You are finally nearing the end of your journey to the Enlightened Master.
Thank God.
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You are finally nearing the end of your journey to the Enlightened Master.
Thank God.
[spoilers begin here]
I don’t know how many of these games I’ll get through, because I genuinely have tons of other stuff I need to do instead, including but not up to “clean my filthy apartment.”
Which is exactly why I’m playing Spring Thing games.
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It’s gonna get real sexy below the jump, kids. Quotes borrowed from The Guardian.
When I first read that this game existed I was super excited but then I saw a tweet that suggested it might cause me to have emotions, so I’ve been avoiding playing it, because all emotions besides “I am currently in a hammock” are pretty much terrible.
But then I was like, you know what, whatever, fuck it, I’ll just play the bear dad game. And that brings us to now.
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I like the idea of being a tiny microbe with grand dreams, working my way up from the evolutionary mailroom. Also this game has promised me a chance at a fancy hat.
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“The God Device” is a pretty good title. Also, I really, really, really want to know what’s in the blood-stained envelope the archaeologist gave Tanya just before she died.
…it’s probably nothing.
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I just ate McDonald’s last weekend for the third time since I saw the movie Super Size Me twelve years ago.
This is how it happened: I was standing behind the counter in the organic grocery store where I work, surrounded by kamut berries & sprouted spelt flour & shoppers arguing about the micronutrient profile of kimchi. My boyfriend walked in, trailing the scent of cigarette smoke & corporate interests, and handed me a soft, paper-wrapped, hockey-puck-shaped object.
It turned out to be a fucking McGriddle. I love McGriddles. There’s just something about the combination of fake maple & heartlessly murdered mistreated dead animal on a pillow-soft bun that adds up to delicious, and I’m not even kidding.
So I huddled in the corner & shoved the unholy thing into my face like a rodent afraid of the winter.
That story doesn’t have a punchline. Maybe not all stories should have punchlines. Maybe our expectations of stories are forcing us into narrow channels where we’re only using five percent of our neurons & experiencing eight percent of our joy.
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There is nothing you can’t take.
The previous sentence seriously, is the first thing I intend to take. After that, the sun.
[hold on to your blog readers because this looks like it’s going to get real nutty]
It’s an interactive sonnet. When I first read that, I thought “dear God, can I just skip this one like I do horror games, because I neither appreciate nor understand poetry?”
Then I saw that it sometimes generates erotic content & I was right back on board.
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