E-soterica

Created by Alyse Stanley and Khee Hoon Chan, E-soterica is a weekly indie column for Unwinnable that spotlights up-and-coming titles that defy industry standards, tackle complex subjects, or otherwise spit in the face of convention.

Adorable Point-and-Click games, Rise!

E-soterica spotlights the indie darlings Khee Hoon Chan and Alyse Stanley just can’t stand to see players miss. Titles that buck convention, brave uncommon subjects, or whose strangeness begs players to stop and gawk. Join us each week as we scour the corners of the internet to share what treasure we find. Every few years or so I see come across an article heralding in apocalyptic terms “Point-and-Click is dead!” “There’s no more audience for such titles,” “they’ve moved on,” “no one’s making t

Indie Games for the Overworked and Underslept

At this point, my side hustle occupies enough hours of my week that it could become my main hustle, but I’ve still got my day job charging full force from 9-5. And of course there’s, you know, life stuff that needs to get done, a pupper that needs to be walked, basic oral hygiene to uphold, dishes probably. In short, I don’t get a lot of sleep. It’s apropos I’m writing this at midnight, drunk on tryptophan with a belly full of Thanksgiving turkey.

In Space Everyone Knows You're Gay

Gravity defines the three main characters of Heaven Will Be Mine. Their factions war over its influence, wrenched apart by where humanity’s future lies. Its pull powers their “Ship-selves,” a more intimate name for their giant space-traveling mechs, so in synch, they may as well be second skins. And, like gravity, the three women find their fates drawn towards one another, again and again, no matter what side they choose. It’s destiny. Or maybe just physics.

The Domestic Horror of Perfectly Ordinary Ghosts | Unwinnable

Just as summer stirs cicadas from their slumber, the warmer weather seems to loosen the bonds between what’s possible and impossible, cooking our brains just past the point of coherence. Perfectly Ordinary Ghosts lives in this threshold, begging the question: What will you make of that shadow in the corner of your eye before it slips away? And at what point do the memories cushioned deep, deep in the corners of our homes begin to take on a life of their own?