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QUOTE OF THE MONTH
"Always forgive your enemies; nothing annoys them so much."

— Oscar Wilde
Dear friend,

This year really whanged the nail over the crumpet. We launched a new game, developed three others and had at least one nervous breakdown, but what's that between friends? A good excuse for port, if you ask me.

Thank you for being with us as we map the unmappable byways of the Bounds, scale the figmental Walls of the House and wrangle that bewildering, throbbing, many-limbed thing as it tries to do something unspeakable to our shoes.

At this cold and misty time of year, remember that the Principle of Heart subverts the Principle of Winter. "Even in the snow, in the silence, in the white without colours, life will never quite cease."
 
Pip pip,

Alexis and Lottie
MEGA CHRISTMAS ROUND-UP
HAPPY NEW YEAR FROM MARI LWYD
"You can't match my witty repartee!"
"I could, if you would use some breath spray."
The Welsh pagan tradition of Mari Lwyd ('the Grey Mare' or 'Holy Mary') is jolly folk horror. In late December, a decorated horse skull - with ribbons, articulated jaw and sometimes glass eyes - is stuck on a pole and carried by someone wrapped in a white shroud. They're followed by a motley crew of 'merrymen' - musicians, puppeteers, chancers - led by a harlequin whip-bearing Leader.

Mari is paraded around her village and stops at each house, where - and I'm not making this up - homeowners are challenged to a rap battle. They hurl rhyming insults back and forth to prevent Mari from passing their threshold, but those inside inevitably run out of ideas at some point. Mari enters (bringing good luck, apparently) and runs around snapping and knocking things over while the Leader pretends to try to restrain her. Her appearance inspired AK when writing Marinette, 'Our Lady of Wires', in the Exile DLC:
 
"It reeks of rotten blood, and it clacks its jaw each time it speaks. Perhaps there is a woman, huddled beneath the cloth and the bones. Perhaps it's some puppeteer's trick..."
 
I should clarify that Mari Lwyd's head is always a horse's skull. Marinette's isn't.
READING REC: SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT
Okay, I'm a purist, and I don't think David Lowery's Green Knight film does the original justice. This Middle English masterpiece hides in the Cotton Nero AX manuscript between three incongruously religious poems ('Pearl', 'Cleanness' and 'Patience', about as fun as they sound). But you can read beautiful modern translations like Simon Armitage's which bring this Christmassy chivalric romance to life, from pagan gods to sexy witch-wives to teeny birbs shivering in snow-covered trees. Yule-y heaven! Enjoy.
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