Depending on who you ask, the time of day, and the number of empty coffee cups on my desk, I’m either a starving artist or a freelance writer. For over fifteen years, I’ve written for online and print publications including Australia’s PC PowerPlay and Hyper Magazine, IGN.com, Unwinnable, VG24/7, as well as the now-defunct GameSpy, The Black Panel and Games.On.Net.

With a belief that there’s a story behind every headline - regardless of how big or small - I have a love of unique angles, thought-provoking stories, and storytelling opportunities. It’s these stories that have seen me mentioned on Kotaku US, Critical Distance, and Rock Paper Shotgun, as well as place as a finalist in the Best Gaming Journalist category at the 2013 Australian IT Journalism Awards (The Lizzies).

Nowadays you’ll find me penning thoughts for editors either brave - or crazy - enough to accept the editing challenge - mostly myself! It’s here I’ve explored the joys of Darkest Dungeon’s Vita release, waxed lyrical about Hozier and what it means to be 'known', and rambled about the ways in which Thunderbolts* gives the modern Marvel Cinematic Universe some semblance of hope.

Consider the life cycle of any given videogame, and you’ll find it’s a sombre affair. Following years of hard work, hype, and hands-on previews, this industry moves so fast that a game’s date of birth is also its time of death. Every review is an obituary; every aggregator a morgue.

Inspired by the likes of Edge Magazine’s Time Extend, Rock Paper Shotgun’s Have You Played, and the countless voices highlighted by Critical Distance that dare to look back in an industry obsessed with moving forward, Late to the Party is an excuse to hop, skip, and time-jump through a personal backlog and return with thoughts from videogaming’s future past.

So grab a drink, throw on a hat, and pick up a controller.

It’s time to party like it’s _ _ _ _

Deer was written as a first foray into interactive fiction when 80 Days and Heaven's Vault developer Inkle called for submissions for their at-the-time in-development game of strategy and storytelling: Pendragon.

The prompt asked for short, lightly-interactive campfire stories "written as dialogue between two characters, the first telling the story, and the second butting in with the occasional dialogue choice to pace the flow."

Deeply flawed, I still hold a soft spot for both Deer and the format itself. 

A perfect storm of sadness, virtual tourism, and a lifelong obsession with the stars, No Man's Rhyme began in 2020 as an ode to anyone who has ever stared up at the night sky — with hope, wonder, or tears in their eyes — and dreamed of escaping this floating space rock we call home.

It was inspired by an overwhelming need, at the time, to simply be free — of the weight of guilt, of grief, and of gravity itself — and No Man's Sky’s unfairly maligned, '80s sci-fi book cover–generator of a universe proved the perfect place to sit and contemplate love, loss, and wanderlust.

What you'll find beyond is the ongoing result of that contemplation: a collection of poetry, rhymes, and an excuse to continue exploring developer Hello Games’ ever-expanding universe.

It just so happens that the most alien of places are sometimes the starkest reminders of every little thing it means to be human.