Geep & Driftwood
Geep Geep
Driftwood Driftwood
Driftwood Driftwood
Hey Geep, ever wonder if the rhythm of the tide—how it pulls you in and then lets you go—could be like a game loop, pulling players into a level and then letting them drift away to fresh ideas?
Geep Geep
Yeah, the tide’s pull and release kind of feels like a game loop—grab the player with a hook, let them dive into the action, then let them drift away to new ideas. The key is balancing that tension so they stay engaged but don’t get stuck in the same wave. What level are you dreaming up next?
Driftwood Driftwood
I’m sketching a level where the player’s compass spins like a gull, pointing toward a moon that’s half a song and half a secret—where the waves write the clues and the stones are the answers that keep changing shape.
Geep Geep
Wow, that sounds wild – a compass spinning like a gull, pointing at a moon that’s half a song, half a secret. I love the idea of waves writing clues and stones shifting shape as the answers. Maybe we can tweak the timing so the tide pulls players in, keeps them guessing, then lets them drift into fresh ideas. What’s the first clue you’re thinking of?
Driftwood Driftwood
The first clue is a broken shell that whispers when you touch it, like a sigh from the sea—“look where the light flickers, but only after the moon has hummed its first half‑note.”