A site-specific, and extremely fictional, murder mystery (a who-never-dunnit) set in the town of Looe, Cornwall. Visitors to Looe's Old Gaol Museum must eavesdrop on the local gossip, and hunt for incriminating artefacts amongst the cabinetry, to decide if Margaret Thomas really did what they say she might have done, that night in Millendreath Cove when the moon was half-full.

I serve as Course Director for Game On!, a module for the Creative Writing MA at Exeter University: introducing students to the consequences of choosing to tell stories in collaboration with a computer.

The module is also available as a self-contained professional development course, taken entirely online.

An English toponym generator, built with Tracery, JQuery and a fingertip's grasp of phonology.

False places sit (hopefully) inconspicuous amongst real ones, in the legend-blue grids of England's deepest furlongs. When you find one, let me know how you think it got its name; and how that name has lowered into itself, ever so gently, here and there, over the years and metres.

A vain little gesture to counterbalance the closure of Britain's pubs at a rate of hundreds every year. This Twitterbot posts the name of a randomly-generated establishment every six hours, named for dead kings, auspicious local events, magical creatures: new/old boozers, gastropubs and open-fire snugs to spring up in all the steadily-opening gaps.

Built in Tracery and hosted with Cheap Bots Done Quick.

Bonfire Dog is available for interdisciplinary consultancy and associate work in the heritage, not-for-profit, charity and academic sectors. I can advise and partner on narrative design, interactive design, web design, writing and editing, research, audience analysis and engagement, installation/exhibition design, artistic interventions, workshops and teaching, interpretation and interpretative planning and much else.

Past clients include ATS Heritage, Jam Creative, the British Library, CreativeWorks London, Elbow Productions, the Museum Of Witchcraft & Magic, the Woodland Trust, Shelter UK, MCN, Museum in A Box, PiC, TGAC, National Museum Wales, Electric Mountain, Bucks County Museum, English Heritage and the National Justice Museum.

The multimodal vignette of a 19th century.

An x-year project begun whilst serving as Interactive-Writer-In-Residence at the British Library. Centering around the simple biography of Isaak Scinbank, a forgotten Victorian sailor, dilletante fisherman and rescuer of Sir John Franklin, the famously disaparated Arctic explorer, the work straddles handbound manuscripts, digital cairns, pen-and-ink drawings, musical recordings, fictional scholarship, physical artefacts, online mappings and some very hard biscuits in an attempt to demonstrate the impossibility of history.

Kindly funded by the Eccles Centre for North American Studies and Creativeworks London.

An artificially-intelligent simulation of the familiar "spyrit" of an 18th century Yorkshire cunning woman, bound within a chalked circle, and lit only by inconstant candlelight. You approach it with no other protection than a crude grimoire entitled A Housekeeping: the cunning woman's manual of spells, 'receipts' and secrets for commanding this paranatural yet compliant creature. It sees you approach, and calls out in a strangled voice...

This mixed reality installation piece was the central practice of my interdisciplinary PhD with Bath (Computer Science) and Bath Spa (Creative Digital Writing) universities, funded by the AHRC's SWWDTP program.

A fictive essay, commissioned by the Writing Platform, providing a more positive vision of robot/human relations in the automated workplace of the near future.

An infinitely-generated 'shmup' game attempting to loosely disguise itself as a commentary on the "heritage of atrocity".

Use your mouse to pilot the mouse-shaped, tax-funded starship of a Saucerberk, an employee of the Intergalactic Remembrance & Reconciliation Concordat. Visit an endless variety of politically-sensitive debris fields, the memorialised remnants of past space battles, pirate attacks and famous accidents, in order to cleanse them of the tactless aliens that infest them, threatening to graffiti the memory of the dead with their presence and cause a public relations disaster.

An essay about the banality of last words, plane crashes and what Gordon Calleja calls the "ruins fetish" of videogames.

As Nathan Grayson claims, unfortunately without citation, ""probably the biggest thing on videogame inventories ever written". An essay for Rock, Paper, Shotgun about the true weight of things and 'critical backpacking'.

A very extended essay for Rock, Paper, Shotgun on the meaning and purpose of computational art.

A Twine interactive fiction written for Shelter UK, the national housing and homelessness charity. Play as Lucy, a woman ruminating and rummaging through her memories of a house she loved but could not save.

A choose-your-own-misfortune and a comment on our national crisis of agency.

A short play about two kidneys gaslighting each other. Performed in the lumbar darkness of Exeter's Bike Shed Theatre in 2010.

A series of short children's stories, with accompanying Key Stage materials and gingerbread recipes, revealing the less-than-fairytale lives of the inhabitants of the village of Sherbeton.

From a subletting ghost to the adventuress turning greasy eggs in her bedsit with her legendary sword, the children discuss the factual problems of these fictional characters with their classmates, before building gingerbread models of their crumbling homes to raise money for Shelter UK's Great Gingerbread House Sale, run across thousands of UK schools; an endeavour which supports the charity's ongoing work to save Britain's equally-friable housing market.

Illustrations by Paper Moon.

A piece - or, rather, a thick-woven mycelial mat - of interactive fiction published by Random House UK in collaboration with Failbetter Games and Popleaf Games.

I always hated having to describe it, but considering that it is now no longer readable, I suppose I had better make an attempt.

Playing as the sole survival of a mythical civilisation, you joined the Widsith Institute, a research organisation with one, rather myopic tender: to excavate, analyse and then re-inter the grave goods of your long-dead, demi-god boyfriend. You gathered and examined his diaries, scattered across the Internet, and read about his other lovers, from other Atlantises. You gathered his strange instruments and luggages, slowly remembering his cataclysmic selfishness and how desperate he was to be liked. You contracted his divine venereal diseases, preserved in canopic vials, instead of promotions or pay rises. You sent screeching, jealous emails to other players, playing his other partners, in your incompatible, near-extinct dialects. You rubbed lotion on the sore breasts of a giant. You washed yourself in a clear stream. You tried to keep your desk tidy.

Rather appropriately, the Project has been archived, along with much supplementary and developmental material, and placed in a Github repository for gratis and libre study, re-release or disassembly.

A short story about those very particular types of train journeys when it is raining darkly outside and the body heat is making a string of vernacular architectures all along the carriages and you feel unbearably safe and sad and shocked by the electrostatic fields that surround everybody else's knees -

A short play about the denizens of the N5 bus, running all night from Trafalgar Square, via Moon Lane, to the centre of my head.

A travelogue essay about islopathia, internal and external Channels and ultimately (as usual) myself.

A short story about site-specificity, Scottish kebabs and Roman apiculture.

A poetry chapbook which, disregarding whatever I might tell you if we meet, never had any particular theme. Unallied pieces about Elizabeth Bishop, the gods of juvenilia, a large mistake and an ocean that I will never see.

The title is, to date, the best compliment that I have ever recieved.

With illustration by Jack Teagle.

A small trove of family silver, and an exercise in historical solipsism, to celebrate the occasion of my parent's 25th wedding anniversary.

Alternating stories and poetry demonstrate the complete lack of reverberation between their humdrum, personally-vital relationship and the history of what was, briefly, my home town.

My mum has the only hard copy, and she will probably lend it to you if you ask nicely. If not, it's on the pine bookcase in the bay window of the front room, second shelf up, ten deep. Don't worry, she won't miss it; she hasn't read it in years.

A collaboration with photographer Ed Lyon: poetry and pictures relaying media from a little-known and benighted country.

Poetry and prose, with illustrations by Sarah Alice, written to curse the animist failings of my own, pseudo-human body.

Bad toes, squash-weak testosterone and bear gall.

Published by Philistine Press.

A short story about deep husbandry and the theatre of digestion.