The Belief Engine: Featuring Mike Monroe & Scott McKie

Sure, here’s a rewritten version of your article that aims to feel more like a human wrote it:

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So, there I was, mindlessly scrolling through the latest buzz when I stumbled upon this indie game that just screamed chaos. DEAD LETTER DEPT., ever heard of it? Yeah, typing horror game — wild stuff. Anyway, instead of doing something productive, I got sucked into this rabbit hole of finding out more about the creators, Mike Monroe and Scott McKie. Picture this: two dudes, one from Colorado, the other all artsy from Boston, somehow end up in the misty realms of the Pacific Northwest with a sprinkle of Japan in there. How did I get here, you ask? No clue. Let’s dive in.

So, Belief Engine, their thing — been around for like a dozen years, give or take. It sounds impressive until you realize 2020 kinda flipped the switch. Mike, the heart of this chaos, packed his bags from Colorado to Washington back in 2004. Why? Because video games called, and apparently, DigiPen was the place. Meanwhile, Scott took the scenic route through art school in Boston, wanted to sprinkle in some computer science but got sticker shock (haven’t we all?), and joined the merry band in Washington.

Here’s the weird twist — they started making games because, why not? Experimenting, prototyping, and probably a lot of coffee runs. Mike’s all about games like they’re niche wine tasting events, while Scott’s just trying to pay rent. Whatever keeps the lights on, right?

And then there’s that game — DEAD LETTER DEPT. Where the heck did this come from? Doesn’t matter, it’s here now. The thing messes with your head, inspired by…the mundane? Mike’s typing adventures, Scott’s late-night stints in a creepy Boston warehouse — talk about mining creativity from the crypts of routine. I mean, who knew zoning out at a job could birth horror video games?

Now, Mike’s all about tapping into beliefs and homes — yeah, deep stuff. Friendships, housing crises, frantic moves… it’s like reality slapped him, and he made a game. Scott, meanwhile, is about flow states — what even is that? You know, like when dishes turn into a zen moment, or Tetris becomes life. Not sure I got it right, but flow with it, you know?

(Let’s not lose ourselves here.) Conversations meander into how indecipherable code turned horror — almost magically. Accidental genius? Possibly. I’d love some of that serendipity.

The duo’s creative process is a hot mess — soundtracks that wander in Scott’s playlist, flow states turning eerie, and immersive first-person views, ditching tutorials (praise!). It’s chaos wrapped in brilliance. Throw in creepy Japanese tunnels for authentic inspiration (why they chose to go full Silent Hill IRL is beyond me), and this project screams uniqueness. Japan, with its rust-that-looks-like-blood theme — how’s that for an aesthetic?

Scott’s fantasies? Language learning through RPGs, talking to monsters, caught in language barriers… Sure, why not? Also, Japan — a land of intriguing houses, cultural oddballs, and citizen taxis (though, what?).

Between all this mad creativity, you might wonder, “What about the gaming soundtrack?” Well, like any creative endeavor, it’s fashionably late. But knowing these guys, it’ll be worth the wait. So keep an eye on Steam, and if you’ve got a minute, support this whirlwind of innovation. I mean, who doesn’t want to explore eerie tunnels after this, right?

Anyway, grateful for Mike and Scott sharing their world. They might just change how we see indie games and, who knows, maybe ignite a desire for late-night warehouse horror stories. Fingers crossed for their next adventure — and soundtrack drops. Stay tuned, gamers.