Dennis Detwiller

Creative Director, Game Designer, Writer, Artist

Clients Include: Activision, Electronic Arts, Viacom, Lightstorm Entertainment, Wizards of the Coast, Nickelodeon, Hasbro, Marvel Comics, DC Comics, Sierra, Vivendi Universal, Ocean Pacific, Radical Entertainment, Emerald City Games, Darkhorse Comics, White Wolf Games, Steve Jackson Games, Hothead Games, PlayFirst, Green Ronin and more.

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Email: dennis.detwiller@me.com
Cell: (415) 999-7402

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Posts tagged Horror

THE SENSE OF THE SLEIGHT OF HAND MAN - PROGRESS!

THE SENSE OF THE SLEIGHT OF HAND MAN continues, struggling towards Bethlehem to be born. The writing is done. Shane is madly laying it all out. I am madly illustrating the last bits. MADNESS.

It’s grown and grown. It was supposed to be ~128 pages, and now it looks more like 200+ pages when all is said and done. I’m super excited to share it all with you. So, please spread the word to people you know. Download the first 88 pages for free below!

THE SENSE OF THE SLEIGHT OF HAND MAN pages 1 to 88.

For those who missed out on the Kickstarter, a print version will be available for general purchase post-launch, once all the contributors have received their copies. 

Keepers’ Korner - IMPOSSIBLE LANDSCAPES

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Oh, you know, just something I’ve been working on for awhile. I have a ton of these works (the Gilchrist Trust, a book on the Great Race of Yith as DG enemies/allies and a lot more). 

 

IMPOSSIBLE LANDSCAPES

Wherein Minds are Lost but Truth is Found

A Campaign of the King in Yellow, for Delta Green

"We shall have a procession of data that Science has excluded. Battalions of the accursed, captained by pallid data that I have exhumed, will march. You’ll read them — or they’ll march."

—Charles Fort

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Philosophy, a Short Story for Delta Green

©2012 Dennis Detwiller

He sits in a green jumpsuit, looking wasted and thin and gray like cardboard. He has a cigarette unlit in his right hand, which is pulled up to his face, scratching his temple with his thumb. He scratches too long. His eyes are lost behind a spray of white-flecked curly brown hair, so I can’t see them. I can’t see him. What’s left of him, at least.

I remember when we were last together. He was standing on top of the boat, a pistol in his hand, screaming and trying to do the right thing. It was like an action movie. But that was a long time ago; two years, maybe? Now it’s a drama, a psychological drama, maybe by Von Trier. Depressing.

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