New Game, New Bimbo World: Notes from a Worse Paradise
in which our heroine is in Florida literally and in her imagination
Hello, lovelies. Much news and a little gossip to share this time. I find myself for ahem, reasons, spending a week unexpectedly by the Gulf, and I took the fully liberating step of not taking my laptop. So I’m clacking this out on my iPad with a cup of coffee overlooking the water while the sounds of the surf and butt rock coming from portable speakers of the more-than-fully bronzed and irradiated early beach goers drifts to my beach chair. I haven’t heard Creed playing this many times since high school.
Still. Not a bad view. I’ve been here before, I should note. Readers of my entire catalogue might recognize some thematics. But this year, I’ve got mixed emotions about it all.
It’s a little more dead. I’m enjoying the relative peace and ease of not waiting for tables, but my heart breaks a little because I’m seeing that it is in fact harder economic times for lots of people. Self included. I’m trying to live very simply and enjoy the free things, but lord, I hope things improve for us all.
I’m here because I’m a guest, so I’m not paying for accommodations. I’m also using this peaceful time to be doing a lot of thinking about how to make ends meet. In the short term at least, this is good news for you, my readers, because I’ve determined that writing is one of the better, proven ways to make up the monthly shortfall in my expenses with the rising cost of my insurance, taxes, and basic necessities.
It also makes me realize I need to take a moment to publicly thank everyone who supports me and reads this newsletter. And a big thank you to my premium subscribers, as well. You’re going to get a few things as thank yous from me once I’m back with my full laptop. But truly - the subscription not only keeps me motivated to work on my output and entertain you all - last month it made the difference in paying my bills. So thank you. And for anyone who can somehow upgrade, I’ll put this here just once:
Okay, on to some news.
Continued Adventures in Game Development
So when I unlocked the demo of The Bimbo Room for my readers, it went accidentally public to, um, everyone. This is organic zero-marketing interest in the ALPHA DEMO of the game. Apart from one Karen who wanted me to mark a TEXT game with no sex, no full nudity, and quite honestly extremely tame content by Solar Harris standards “adult only” (which I did even though it feels like vocal minority censorship to me) - the response appears… good?
I also suspect some of you who joined my newsletter might have done so because you found me through the game. Amazing. Welcome. I promise you’ll get news, too. In fact, here’s some:
I really learned a lot from my initial foray into this space. I was originally thinking that I’d keep going and develop a full text game like this, where this was just the character creator, but since everyone who’s played the game hates the Mirror Lounge as much as I do, I’ll admit I’m frustrated by how hard it is to make Inform do some of the simple things I’d like the game to do to handle a Bimbo RPG instead of a text adventure. So I’ve decided Version 2 will be in a more modern engine that has some flexibility and also more tutorials available.
I started working on it before I jumped a plane, and the big thing I was worried about was something I talked about before: modern engines have graphics.
Disclaimer: In this newsletter I use Gen AI to let us have a little fun, I’m open about that, at least. As I’ve received…. 0 fan art in my ten years of writing, I gather my readership is not a secret well of artists. So since I’m still learning how to make games, I’m probably going to temp things in that way. If against all odds this gets popular and someone here wants to do original art, I would obviously prefer to work with other humans.
Okay, disclaimer over. What’s the game gonna be like?
Well, we’ll be going beyond the character creation, but the idea of The Bimbo Room remains. Limitations of being a solo developer are what they are so we may not launch with TEN playable classes, but I’ve been working out a pretty fun little adventure that I can promise is not as frustrating as a text adventure but more gamelike than a visual novel (which as a gamer I find frustratingly non interactive.)
And while it’s not as unlimited as my “text is cheap” complicated fashion system, the outfit gachapon and stats based on fashion choices are still intact. I’m pretty proud of wrangling tools to build a paper doll system, so here’s a peek at the “test” outfits for the Academic Disaster archetype while I prototype the outfit system. As you can see, mix-and-match is possible and a lot of thought went into designing ensembles.
Anyway. This shit is hard. But it’s motivating and I’m very open to feedback. One thing I’m going to open up to premium subscribers: we’re going with Academic Disaster as one archetype for launch, but at least two more is on my plan for the initial. One of them I’m letting EVERYONE here vote on. But once that’s chosen, premium subscribers will get a private selection. And other perks!
Bimbo World: The New One
It doesn’t have a title, but it already has a first chapter. I’m very re-energized and excited, too, because while trying to get it going again I found a great story thread and so we’re full steam ahead on at least finishing what I call “season two” while there’s interest. “Mile High Minx” is my best selling publication for the month, so I’m glad I didn’t kill the series’ interest with my own inability to write more of it for a while there.
Okay, this might change, but as you can see, Florida’s been on my mind and I was only here for 24 hours before I knew how to approach the competing techbro pleasure island.
Exclusive preview straight from my iPad:
The private jet banked sharply, and through the oval window I caught my first glimpse of “paradise.” The fact I was being taken to some kind of techbro attempt to “disrupt” the demon resort I’d worked for and been forever altered because of going there was still not fully sinking in to me. How on earth were they planning to compete? And why? There was no human business model that made any sense. The demon enterprise ran on souls and the sinful excesses of its guests. What use did Teddy and his business partners have for souls?
The wheels touched down with a gentle bump. Teddy’s hand found my knee. In the beach trash couture I’d accepted as part of my dares on the flight out, that was easy. The denim shorts I’d changed into as part of my final arrival outfit were well scandalously beyond the limits of what defined a pair of Daisy Dukes. These were, my latent bimbo brain somehow knew, called “cochise cutters” and they earned that rep the moment I pulled them up.
"Excited?" Teddy's breath tickled my ear, bourbon-sweet from the in-flight celebration he'd enjoyed once I’d given into his in-flight games. His fingers traced small circles on my thigh. I allowed it. I was still bound by the rules of the game, only permitted to say no if I truly didn’t like or want something. The sensation felt good, so I let it continue… even if the implications were increasingly worrisome.
"Nervous," I admitted. Through the windows, I could see the welcoming committee. A dozen women in impossibly tiny bikini tops waited, wearing belt-style miniskirts made of LEDs. The skirts displayed numbers that cast colorful glows against their tanned bared midriffs: 2,847... 5,923... 11,458.
"Points Girls," Teddy explained, following my gaze. "Think of them as your... orientation guides."
The cabin door opened, and tropical air rushed in—Gulf air thick with coconut oil and something I couldn’t place. The Points Girls swarmed the bottom of the jet stairs like exotic birds, their movements choreographed to display maximum skin with minimum fabric. One of them—a platinum blonde with breasts that defied physics—held up a tray of champagne flutes that sparkled with something that definitely wasn't just bubbles.
"I can't," I whispered, but Teddy's hand had already found the small of my back.
"You can," he countered, his palm warm through the thin fabric of my sundress. "You're here, aren't you? The hard part's over."
But as he guided me down those stairs, I knew he was wrong. The hard part was just beginning.
"Welcome to a better paradise!" One of them—CANDY, according to the glittery name tag stretched across her barely-there bikini top—stepped forward with practiced enthusiasm. Her skirt read 8,756, and I wondered what exactly one had to do to earn such numbers.
"First-timers get special treatment," Candy chirped, producing a slim device that looked like a cross between a fitness tracker and something from a sex shop. "Let me just sync your Pleasure Profile..."
Before I could protest, she'd clasped the device around my wrist. It pulsed warm against my skin, and suddenly my arm tingled with an electric sensation that wasn't entirely unpleasant.
"There we go!" Candy's voice hit that particular pitch of forced perkiness that made my teeth ache. "Now let me show you how the system works. It's super easy and super fun!"
The device's screen blazed to life, and I found myself staring at an interface that would have made a porn site blush. Categories scrolled past: PUBLIC DISPLAYS, DIRTY DARES, EXPOSURE CHALLENGES, GROUP ACTIVITIES. Each came with point values and achievement badges that looked like perverted Boy Scout medals.
"See, you earn points for everything fun," Candy explained, her manicured nail tapping through examples. "Flash a stranger? That's 50 points. Skinny dip in the main pool? 100 points. And the really good stuff..." She winked, scrolling to a section marked PLATINUM LEVEL. "Well, let's just say the sky's the limit."
My eyes widened as I read the suggestions. Things I'd never even imagined, acts that would have made a courtesan blush, all reduced to point values and leaderboard rankings. The device buzzed against my wrist, already suggesting "beginner challenges" based on what it somehow knew about me.
"This is insane," I breathed, but Candy had already moved on, demonstrating the social features—how to "check in" to various locations, how to livestream challenges for bonus multipliers, how to form "pleasure parties" for group achievements.
Teddy watched my face with obvious amusement, sipping champagne while I processed this gamified debauchery. "We said it was a better paradise, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice carrying that particular tone of satisfaction that came from introducing someone to their own corruption. "The trashier you act, the better you're treated. Simple as that. You experienced a little of our value proposition on the way here. What if you didn’t have to worry about what society thought? What if you were free to just say yes to what felt good? That’s true hedonism. All we’ve done is used technology to patch over a little societal malware."
The other Points Girls had formed a loose circle around us, their displays casting shifting colored light across the tarmac. In the distance, I could hear screams of laughter and splashing water, the clink of glasses and the unmistakable sounds of public pleasure. The very air seemed to vibrate with possibility and permission.
My device pulsed again, displaying my profile: VIOLET - LEVEL 0 - 0 POINTS - VIRGIN STATUS.
Virgin status. Even the technology here had a sense of humor.
Okay, more soon, but that was a lot, right?
Give me suggestions on how to earn “points” on my own Florida vacay?
XOXO
Solar
"The Island of Dr Techbreau"