Parting the Veil: An Introduction

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As a storytelling medium, a game speaks loudly and provocatively; sometimes in pages and sometimes in pixels. Games orate through their strange voices in such erratic tongues that when you sit with them it is startling how well they can, and will, listen. The most acute games are never satisfied with simply being observed, because they demand exchange, seek conversation, require intimacy. Of course, every medium is capable of transmuting passivity into activity, and many individual stories even demand this. Journalistic reports, films, plays, albums, novels; these artifacts can be resolved without more participants than their makers, even if society is incomplete without them.

Most games, however, need us to properly exist. As an entity, they appear initially selfish. They are mysteries which don't reveal themselves until we are complicit in their function. They dictate their ingredients to us in an enigmatic bid for life. Yet, without active participants, a game remains just an ingredient itself. They deserve far more than their often disposable perception, and the medium offers far more than the discussion we respond to it with. The language surrounding games is indeed young, but the medium is far from immature.

I've learned so much from games and the conversation they demand. I've become more vulnerable and empathetic through them. The best games want you to share more fully with the world. They challenge you to give more. When they feel you've given enough they'll bear a secret; we need games as much as they need us. My hope for Lunar Veil Press is to add to the amazing amount of work already being done to prove that, and through it, I'm excited to see what else I'll learn. If you're reading, I hope that you feel similarly. 

If you do, step through the veil, there are many games to play, and even more stories to share.

- Jabari W

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