I'm Omari. Dilettante turned all-in. Started devving during COVID with whatever engine would run — Unity, Godot, Construct, GDevelop — then committed to Lua as the one real language and made the switch to professional.
Lost a job somewhere in the middle. Turned out to be a signal, not an obstacle. Took every unfinished project I had and breathed new life into them. No degree, no studio, no excuses. Self-taught, self-published, self-directed.
Novels on Amazon since 2015. An album, Machine Lord Human Gang — Don't Believe, on Amazon too. Now a slate of games, each one actually arriving.
Four buttons. Nothing else. Walk, jump, fire, swap element. Built to be playable while you eat, smoke, drink — anything you do with your other hand. Five pilots, fifty skins, five procedural dungeons, thirty-plus relics, ten trial modifiers, nine languages. The constraint is the design.
Your bloodline, written as history. One hundred generations across shifting eras, plagues, and wars, narrated by an AI chronicler in the voice of Wolfe and McCarthy. A novel that plays itself out through you.
A bureaucratic autobattler RPG. Manage a department of disposable employees through thirty-two years of Margaret's watch. Hire. Promote. Demote. Mourn. File. Your rivals will do the same. Six departments, eighty-nine skills, four endings, one form to sign.
A small strategy game about leading a flight of named dragons out into the reach and bringing them home. Bells twice on return. Pegs at the hearth, pretending he wasn't worried. Losses leave empty chairs at the long table. A warm hearth at the edge of a silent world.
Press, collaboration, or anything else —
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