An Airport For Aliens Currently Run By Dogs
The writer of Hypnospace Outlaw delivers a joyfully weird game
PC
Xalavier Nelson Jr had become somewhat cynical about game development. Having taken on a succession of parachute jobs, he’d begun to wonder whether making games could be enjoyable any more. When NYU Game Center asked him to contribute to its annual No Quarter exhibition, then, the approach came at the perfect time: “If someone says, ‘We’re going to give you money to do basically whatever you want at whatever pace you want, just have it ready by a certain time’, you do it!” Yet it wasn’t until he found himself gazing up at an eight-foot-tall Jack Russell terrier asking if he’d like a ticket to Uranus that Nelson Jr experienced the “spark of creative joy” that convinced him that yes, making videogames really can be fun.
The size is a little different in the finished game, we’re happy to report. “Working in a 3D engine building a world myself for the first time, I wasn’t sure how tall the player is supposed to be,” Nelson Jr says – though as he shares his screen over Skype, tinkering with his game as he talks, it’s clear he’s become adept at building absurdist airports in the interim. It’s a strange time to be making videogames, we suggest; does that make it more difficult than usual to be funny, or is humour a useful outlet? “I don’t find it especially hard to be funny right now,” he replies, and the witty exchanges and surreal systems of the pre-alpha build we play certainly support his case. “Prolonged focus? The very energy needed to create things? That definitely becomes an effort.”
As a frequent flyer, Nelson Jr had been keen to make a game about airports. His time in transit had convinced him that they’re not made for humans at all – hence the alien language you see on signs and departure boards. “The very way they function is an eldritch construction that I’m not convinced is meant for mortal eyes or bodies,” he laughs. “So this idea has been percolating in my head for a while, where you travel between airports, managing your currency and your ability to survive in a society where you don’t know the language of the people around you.”
While over time you may learn the lingo, picking up familiar symbols as you visit the various destinations, you’ll otherwise have to rely on the assistance of the canine staff, who do speak your language. As dogs, they’re eager
Time in transit had convinced Nelson Jr that airports are not made for humans at all
to please, though often you’ll need to solve their problems to get them to help you. A boarding pass alone isn’t enough to get us in the air; the other dog at the desk is insecure about his size (his photo, Nelson Jr explains, is three centimetres smaller than any other) and would like a large drink to compensate. And so we head to the coffee shop to order an ochenta quadruple-shot caramel macchiatino, low froth, cream double-whipped with one sprinkle of
cinnamon; to a dog barista, complexity equals volume. We hand it over and board our flight.
It soon becomes clear that the game is more than just a series of – forgive us – fetch quests. A swig of coffee (or any other drink) will help pass the time if you’ve got a while to wait before you can board. You can talk to and pet any of the dogs, and even the vending machines. As we explore this reactive world, we’re reminded of Jazzpunk’s systemic surprises and offbeat wit. Even missing your flight is no big deal: you can simply get another boarding card because the desk dogs have short-term memories and are happy to supply you with another.
For Nelson Jr, it’s been a therapeutic game to make at a difficult time – and he’s happy for the opportunity to bring joy and comfort to his Patreon supporters, some of whom have sent photos of their own pets so he can memorialise them in the game. He introduces us to a dog called Scooby, who passed away two weeks prior to our interview. “This dog is a vending machine archaeologist. You might notice that the vending machines are one of the very few objects in the game that have non-alien writing. So this dog not only lampshades that the vending machines are pieces of the old world, but it’s an opportunity to have this sincere consideration about how the roles of objects like vending machines, signs and pieces of public transit change over time as societies and their priorities evolve.” He pauses and smiles. “Mixing the absurd and the meaningful is not just the purpose of this game, but of my career. In many ways it’s found its fullest form in An Airport For Aliens Currently Run By Dogs.”