I am Stanley Cliche, born in New York City and a frequent visitor who spent several summers there. However, I lived most of my life in Leverett, MA which is a beautiful small rural town near Amherst. I have a loving family which includes my parents, siblings, and other extended relatives.

My Interactive Media and Game Development major concentrates on writing and I hope to be a storyteller, authoring my own stories, in my near future.

When I was a child, I loved crafting characters from TV shows as well as coming up with many original ideas. I am fond of physical arts like sewing and ceramics as overcoming three-dimensional space challenges comes easily for me and has been the easiest aspect of art to master. I learned sewing to make figurines and ceramics to expand my capabilities. I have the most proficiency with Adobe Photoshop and Animate, but have practiced using programs such as ZBrush and Maya. I am attempting to improve my illustration capabilities to convey more using visual techniques for storytelling. During my time at WPI, I have contributed artwork to games and worked with a couple game engines. In video games, I appreciate how the plot and gameplay are integrated in a way to allow a player the opportunity to participate and possibly alter the story itself, such as inFAMOUS where the player can choose if the protagonist wants non-player characters to view him as a hero or a villain.

Digital Painting – Steam-Puck

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Writing for Narrative – The Wanderer

1. The wanderer traversed the cluttered woods of a rural forest. Some claimed “vagabond,” some “convict” – only seen with fear and disgust.
2. The wanderer is 8ft tall, composed of grey static with arms so long that they touch the ground.
3. At dusk, a father & daughter gazed upon the grey static figure, drooping as it walked toward them. “Daddy, I’m scared.” They run from it.
4. Some claim the wanderer has bright white, black, or no eyes. The eyes are the windows to the soul and the wanderer is your mirror.
5. One night two sisters saw the wanderer and ran away. One claimed it had dim white eyes while the other insisted it had glimmering black.
6. As the father runs, he whispers, “Don’t worry sweetie, that white-eyed freak won’t get us.” The daughter raises an eyebrow in confusion.
7. People focus on the concepts of race, gender, and class. I cannot tell what they are but know how they affect people.
8. I see one group as beams of light dimmed from the emptiness of another. I see the brightest lights stoking the darkness of others.
9. People always change. Some hold onto their light, dark, or emptiness but not forever.
10. I see the beacon of light ahead shrouding the glimmering darkness. Quite a shame, its rare to find such opposing forces together.
11. The father turns back to find the wanderer is no longer there. “Don’t worry sweetie, it’s gone. The freak is gone. We’re safe now.”
12. He thinks to himself, “It had such kind eyes, but I could not take the chance, especially if my daughter’s safety is at risk.”
13. The daughter thinks to herself, “Good, I did not like what I saw in its eyes. How can something hold all of that malice?”
14. The light dims from my sight and the darkness dampens from it. So few have not changed from interacting with me. I miss them.
15. A century ago, many glimmers of light, dark, and grey were on a screaming field. The ground itself quaked with peoples’ fear and wrath.
16. One person on empty field of dimming people took notice of me. He quickly turned from grey to dark at my gaze. “Demon!” he exclaimed.
17. Charging at me and stoking the darkness within, unaware that the blade phases through me as he turns from my gaze.
18. The man cried as he reverted to grey. He then locked to my gaze and stood there.
19. “My platoon is gone. This demon must be responsible. How else could this war exist? But, all I see is myself in its face.” The man said.
20. Some decades ago, a group of people gathered in a clearing as I was hiding in the trees. They stood in awe of explosions in the sky.
21. One of them, a smaller light noticed me and wandered into the woods. The little light extended its hand to mine and asked who I am.
22. I said nothing which dimmed the light for a moment. I moved my hand to the child’s hand, but a pair of larger dark figures came calling.
23. They saw me and screamed to the child. I let go from the child’s hand and the light returned to them. My newest name was given that day.
24. ‘Wanderer,’ they called me. I have had many names, but I preferred this one. Those of light see benevolence, those of dark see malice.
25. My form startles many and evokes qualities that people do not grasp within themselves.