SFTW: Tasha's Game

In this week's <em>Something for the Weekend</em>, Iain Simons is charmed by a gentle world of games

One of the least prolific but most loved studios to emerge in the last decades has been Double Fine Productions, formed in San Francisco by Tim Schafer after leaving his illustrious career at Lucasarts. Double Fine have so far only shipped one title, the critically acclaimed ‘Psychonauts’, but have developed a reputation for being one of the most personable, relaxed and downright fun places to work.

The Double Fine site is conspicuous evidence of this. The company blog recounts stories of the contents of the studio fridge, they have a successful line of employee produced web-comics and occasionally their staff post up a free game("Just like our regular games, but less!")

This week then, I’m directing you toward a small but perfectly formed flash-game by animator Tasha Harris called, Tasha’s Game.

It’s a simple, colourful affair in which you control Tasha (and her cat, Snoopy) in an attempt to free her imprisoned co-workers from an indistinct but still utterly unpleasant foe. The game has a fun central mechanic, in which progress is made by the arrangement of platforms within the level - enabling you to reach your colleagues. You’re gently guided along the way by comedically friendly instructions and encouragement from the environment - who doesn’t want to be congratulated by a rainbow?

Drawn and animated in the style of Tasha’s webcomic, it’s a charming treat that makes you wish you worked in San Francisco.

Play Tasha’s Game?

Iain Simons writes, talks and tweets about videogames and technology. His new book, Play Britannia, is to be published in 2009. He is the director of the GameCity festival at Nottingham Trent University.
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“Minoan pendant”: a new poem by Mark Granier

“Yes – I press my nose / to the pleasantly warm glass – / it’s a copy of one I saw / cased in the cool museum”

Yes – I press my nose
to the pleasantly warm glass –
it’s a copy of one I saw
cased in the cool museum –
gold beaten to honey, a grainy
oval dollop, flanked by two
slim symmetrical bees –

garland for a civilisation’s
rise and collapse, eye-dropped
five thousand years: a flash
of evening sun on a windscreen
or wing mirror – Heraklion’s
scooter-life buzzing and humming –

as I step in to browse, become
mesmerised by the warm
dark eyes of the woman
who gives her spiel and moves
softly and with such grace,
that, after leaving, I hesitate

a moment on the pavement
then re-enter with a question
I know not to ask, but ask
anyway, to hear her voice
soften even more as she smiles
and shakes her hair – no.

Mark Granier is an Irish poet and photographer. He is the author of four collections of poetry, most recently Haunt (Salmon).

This article first appeared in the 16 June 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Britain on the brink