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The fall always comes – A response to True Romans All by Emilie Collyer


Casca (James Tresise) photographed by Catherine Drysdale

The fall always comes

A response to True Romans All

by Emilie Collyer

Their problem was in underestimating me.

This has been the case since I was a child. It used to pull at me, like hooks under skin. Not even worth a mention. Not even: ‘Keep an eye on that one.’ Nothing. The glazed flick with the eye, dismissing me. Not built for fighting. Not pretty enough for fucking.

In a city where you rise to the top with boots and knives or sink under the weight of others’ ambitions, I found a way.

Living between the cracks.

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Tipping point, the conclusion to The Whispering Society, by Emilie Collyer


Tipping point

by Emilie Collyer

All he did was stop for a coffee.
Tuesday morning, city square. Autumn sunlight bouncing off the little canal they built into the concrete pavers. The smell of promise in the air. Autumn in Melbourne always smells like promise.
His grey suit, nice cut, looking like he forked out a bit for it. Maybe he’s on his way to an interview. He’s nervous. Low self-esteem. The shoes are worn but polished and just a bit too much after-shave scent trailing in his wake. Soapy, with undertones of cigarette smoke. Hands shaking gently as he wraps them around the cardboard cup, flicks the lid off, blows on the coffee.
It’s one of those pretty coffees. The barista has taken care, drawn a delicate swirl in the crema, shaped like a love heart. If the guy had looked closely it might have been warning enough. But only if he’d recognised the symbol. And why would he? He was a regular guy, with ordinary hopes and petty fears, feeling a bit flat on a Tuesday morning, wanting the buzz of a caffeine lift.
He wasn’t one of us.Read More

Plays Well With Others – a response by Emilie Collyer

Our Writer in Residence, Emilie Collyer, also wrote a response to the experience of playing games at the Fresh Air festivalin Feb, 2013. We’re proud to present Emilie’s brand new work – Plays Well With Others.

PlaysWellPlays well with others

by Emilie Collyer


The problem wasn’t so much in the game. The problem was in the aftermath of the game.

‘Who the fuck is going to clean this place up?’

He was blonde, lean and dressed as a security guard. None of us could tell at that moment who was Halo and who was Human. It was hard enough any time, but straight after a long game judgement was particularly impaired. But he was holding a gun so we gave him the benefit of the fucking doubt.Read More

Believer, a response to Mount Trottoir by Emilie Collyer

Our Writer in Residence, Emilie Collyer, has been hard at it and here responds to the experience of playing Atmosphere Industries’ Mont Trottoir.


by Emilie Collyer

My favourite photograph is the one of us at the top of the mountain. You’re looking like a freakin’ movie star. Fuck you’re gorgeous. And I’m looking like the idiot who’s in love with a movie star. We’re both wearing sunglasses and peaked caps and kerchiefs – is that what you call them? – around our necks. Mine is orange and yours is purple. The sun is shining so brilliant. Behind us are mountains and more mountains. Serious mountains for serious fuckers. Our mountain was humble in comparison. It was only 5,000 metres or thereabouts. You know I should look up exactly how high it was. I have never been happier than in that moment. On that day. Fuck me, you were so beautiful.
We never own anything, that’s what I learned. Things, people, mountains, sunshine, they’re just on loan to us and we can’t ever get away with thinking we can keep them forever.Read More

They’re behind you, a responce by Emilie Collyer

We’re very proud to announce our new Writer in Residence – Emilie Collyer! Emilie writes plays, performance words, fiction and poetry and in between all that she’s also one of our Pop Up Playtesters. We asked Emilie to respond creatively to playing The Curse at The Village with us.


They’re behind you

by Emilie Collyer

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.
They met playing a simple game and swiftly became a tight gang of three. Like the Famous Five or the Secret Seven, but only three.Read More