Hi folks! Hoax here (naughtbutahoax here on Tumblr), team composer and musical magician.

So, it’s official: I’m working on the OST for Dating of Age!

This is the main theme: “Clear Skies Ahead”. I could spend a paragraph and a half explaining what I intended it to evoke, but I think the title is pretty self-explanatory.

(It’s downloadable, too! For free, even! Just click the little down-arrow up there, or follow this link to the upload on my Patreon!

Certainly a departure from my usual style, I’ll admit, but I’m not one to shy away from the chance to do something different. And hey, maybe hit up my Patreon and listen to some of my other stuff if you’re into chiptune and electronica. I’m told it’s “not the worst thing [they]’ve ever heard” and that “[they] can dig it” by some notable persons that I absolutely didn’t have to pay to say that!

(Names redacted for privacy and personal integrity reasons.)

If you feel like it, maybe you could even become a Patron and help me do my thing in return for some music and a heaping helping of gratitude! </shameless plug>

Otherwise, expect regular updates along this vein as I construct the OST, and be sure to follow us here on datingofage to keep up to date on the game’s development!

Sound and Fury guide you home.




Carla: There you are, you elusive wretch. I’ve been wandering campus for the past half hour trying to find your fresh ass.
[Sal is leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette.]
Carla: You do this often?
Sal: Maybe.
Carla: You’re not doing your GPA any favors playing hooky like this.
Sal: What do you care about my grades, Carla?
Carla: Not the point. [leans against the wall next to her]
Sal: …Okay, ‘xactly why’re you chattin’ up my “fresh ass”?
Carla: [grits her teeth] Hey. I’ve got half a mind to-
Sal: …to?
Carla: …[sighs] This isn’t working, is it.
Sal: If you’re tryin’ t’confuse the hell outta me, sure it is.
Carla: Look, the reason I came looking for you in the first place was because… well, I heard about what went down, and I thought I’d come see how you were holding up.
Sal: Carla bein’ thoughtful? Lose a bet or somethin’?
Carla: Rookie mistake: I don’t lose bets. And sure, I’m a regular mischief-maker, but it’s not like I completely lack empathy. I’m just… selective about whom I apply it to.
Sal: I meet your rigorous standards?
Carla: As a matter of fact… I don’t know.
Sal: [looks away, taking a drag]
Carla: You… you simultaneously infuriate and impress me. I don’t get you. You’re not easy to peg, and that frustrates me, but I can’t stop trying to. I… I like you, I guess. [glances away, trying to play it off coolly, but is freaking out internally, heart fluttering, adrenaline shooting through her body, breathing unsteady]
Sal: …[puts out her cigarette and turns to Carla] Ah ain’t what you think ah am, Carla.
Carla: Were you listening to me at all? The point is, I don’t know what to think.
Sal: [drops the cigarette to the ground, stamps it out, then walks away without another word]
Carla: Wait-! [makes to go after her, but ultimately slumps back against the wall, arms crossed] “Ah ain’t what you think ah am, Carla”… ugh, get over yourself, Tennessee…