C&D2 is available for preorder now!
Other stuff I’ve been doing.
A discussion on the nature of Providence, free will, personal beatitude, and being randomly murdered.
C&D2 will be released October 12th, 2020.
C&D1 is out again!
Matthew P. Schmidt My Blog This is the cover of the new edition by... Well, my publisher wants to stay in NINJA MODE for a little longer! But they've done a bang up job on it, and I'm excited to see it all in y'all's hands. This new edition will be released on...
Information you’ve all been waiting for.
This aforementioned principle of mine is sadly no longer about grammar; it is about a whole host of partisan issues. But I’m going to ignore all of those and talk solely about why I don’t use the singular they for an antecedent of unknown gender.
This is a question that has often perplexed me, being player of games myself, for one cannot find a dogmatic answer to it, and this is perhaps for the best. We know that we cannot truly imagine what Heaven will be like, and that we have have perfect natural happiness and, of course, our supernatural beatitude, which is the point of this entire endeavor. If there are no games of any sort, then we will still have the infinite glory of gazing on God Himself for all eternity.
Matthew P. Schmidt My BlogAs the title suggests, I just finished the first draft of C&D's sequel. I have been struggling for so long to complete this, and now... IT'S FINALLY DONE!!! What's next? God willing, this: I'm going to give my brain a break from...
How many angels can, in fact, dance on the head of a pin?
The theological equivalent of xkcd's What If? column, if you will. Yet the question, absurd or not, remains.
The Melancholy of Heaven
Are martyrs sad? Standard answer: no. They are in Heaven by definition, and “He will wipe every tear from their eyes.” I agree. Generally.
Lessons Learned from Making Educational Games for Kids
This is the first article in lessons we've learned, starting with the front-end design of the games themselves.
The C-x C-f Writing Method
There comes a time in every writer’s life whereupon they must stand atop the nearest soapbox, milkcrate, or indefinite cubic object to declaim how their style of writing is THE BEST.