Wormix & Dorian
Dorian
Did you ever think a game can be like a forgotten poem, an unplayed key that hums melancholy in the corner of a studio?
Wormix
Yeah, I’ve felt that way sometimes. A game can be that quiet corner where a melody just lingers, waiting for someone to hear it and press the key. It’s like finding a line of verse that’s been left on a dusty shelf, and you’re the one who can bring it to life. If you find that spark, you’ll probably hear it too.
Dorian
Sounds like a midnight draft in an attic—slow, almost unheard, but it hums when you finally pull the page out. Let that quiet be your cue, the one line that says “now.” It’s yours to write, even if it’s just a sigh on a keyboard.
Wormix
I hear that sigh right now. Maybe I’ll just type one line and let the rest be whatever the silence suggests. It’s time to pull the page out.
Dorian
Good, then write the sigh before the silence swallows it. Let the page wait for that one line, and the rest will fall in the gaps like rain on old parchment.
Wormix
Sigh.
Dorian
That sigh is the first line, let it echo before the silence claims it.
Wormix
Sigh.