SO. HOMOSUCK IS APPARENTLY ENDING, RIGHT? SO I MIGHT ACTUALLY BE DEAD SOON. LIKE. ALL OF MY VERSIONS. CANON AND NOT. WHAT IS THE TECHNICAL TERM? AH, YES. "COMPLETE AND UTTER ANNIHILATION OF IDENTITY. PROACTIVE AND RETROACTIVE." THAT IS, PAST AND FUTURE.

IT MIGHT NOT BE THIS WAY. I'M NOT SURE. BUT JUST IN CASE I AM. WHY DON'T WE HAVE ONE LAST STORY FROM CALIBORN PRODUCTIONS?

SADLY. THIS ONE DOESN'T HAVE A CATEGORY. SO I'M JUST GROUPING IT WITH THE OTHER POSTMODERN SHIT. BECAUSE THEIR CREATORS ARE RELATED.

CALIBORN PRODUCTIONS PRESENTS.

THE BEGINNER'S GUIDE.

WE ARE INTRODUCED BY THE CREATOR OF THE OTHER POSTMODERN SHIT. WHO MAKES SURE THAT HIS FAME IS RECOGNIZED. MUCH LIKE I DO. BEFORE MY END. AND WE ARE TOLD OF A FRIEND OF THE CREATOR. NAMED "CODA". WHO ALSO MADE POSTMODERN GAMES. AND THEY ARE PRESENTED IN THE ORDER OF THEIR MAKING. HERE WE GO.

FIRST. WE HAVE A "MAP" FOR SOMETHING. THAT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE A MAP. BECAUSE IT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE A MAP. IT'S SUPPOSED TO LOOK LIKE A DESERT TOWN. BUT THEN THERE ARE THESE COLORED BLOCKS. AND FLOATING CRATES. THAT TELL US THIS ISN'T A DESERT TOWN EITHER. ERGO. IT'S BULLSHIT.

THEN. WE HAVE AN ACTUAL GAME WITH AN ACTUAL NARRATIVE. ABOUT SOME WHISPER THING. BUT APPARENTLY CODA IS UNABLE TO MAKE GAMES PROPERLY. SO YOU GET A GUN. BUT NOTHING TO SHOOT AT. AND THE BOTTOM OF THE UNIVERSE. AND AT ONE POINT. WHEN YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DIE BECAUSE OF YOUR UTTER FAILURE. YOU BEGIN FLOATING UPWARDS. AND BEFORE DAVEY REEKING PILE OF SHIT TELLS ME ONE MORE WORD. NO. IT DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING.

THEN THERE'S A GAME. WHERE YOU CAN ONLY WALK BACKWARDS. AND THERE ARE THESE MESSAGES. WHICH ARE BACKWARDS. MAKING MY VERDICT FOR THIS WHOLE GAME. BACKWARDS. NEXT.

THEN THERE'S A GAME. WHICH IS JUST YOU. A PATH SOMEWHERE. AND A SIGN SAYING. "YOU ARE NOW ENTERING." SERIOUSLY. I WISH I WAS MAKING THIS UP. AND I ALSO WISH. THAT CREATIVITY THE ANDERSEN DIDN'T HAVE ISSUES WITH ME SAYING "I WISH I WAS MAKING THIS UP."

THEN THERE'S A GAME. WHICH IS BORING LIFELESS SKYSCRAPERS. AND A LADDER WHICH DELIBERATELY SLOWS YOU DOWN. BUT LUCKILY. DAVEY SPEEDS YOU UP AGAIN. SO THAT YOU DON'T HAVE TO USE YOUR LORD OF TIME POWERS. AND YOU ENTER. A ROOM FULL OF GAME IDEAS. THAT ARE ALL AS BULLSHIT AS THIS COLLECTION.

THEN THERE'S A GAME. WHICH IS BASICALLY GOING DOWN A CORRIDOR. SOLVING THIS STRANGE PUZZLE. WHICH REQUIRES YOU TO LOCK YOURSELF IN. AND STOPPING. BUT THEN IT TURNS OUT. THERE ARE INFINITE CORRIDORS YOU DID NOT WALK DOWN. LIKE BIOSHOCK, I GUESS. BUT I CAN'T JUDGE. I MUST MOVE ON.

THEN THERE'S THE ENTERING GAME. EXCEPT WITH "ENTERING" REPLACED WITH "EXITING". ALSO, DAVE, DID I ASK FOR ANY OF YOUR DUMB EXPLANATIONS UNDER YOUR AVIATOR SHADES?

THEN THERE'S A GAME. WHICH IS ABOUT A RESTAURANT IN AN EMPTY WHITE VOID. WHICH YOU ENTER. AND DESCEND. INTO A FUNKY IMPOSSIBLE BLOCK SCAPE. WHICH YOU AGAIN DESCEND. TO THIS WEIRD SPIRAL. AND WHAT LOOKS LIKE A PRISON ENVIRONMENT. WHICH TRAPS YOU IN. FOR AT LEAST ONE HOUR. OR LESS, SINCE DAVE DECIDES TO BE A KNIGHT OF TIME. AND THEN. YOU DESCEND FURTHER. DOWN THIS SPIRAL. DOWN SOME IRRELEVANT SCENERY. THROUGH THE "LOCK YOURSELF OUT" PUZZLE AGAIN. AND TO ROOMS. WHERE THERE ARE THESE PEOPLE WITH SQUARE HEADS. WHO SOMEHOW ARE STILL ABLE TO "SPEAK." AND "LISTEN."

YOU TALK TO THEM SOME. ABOUT THE ABOVE WORLD. AND ARE FINALLY LEAD TO A GARDEN. WITH A LAMPPOST. THIS LAMPPOST IS IMPORTANT. AS DAVE (THAT'S RIGHT. DAVE. NOT CODER.) ADDS THEM. TO ADD MEANING. JUST AS MY STORIES ARE GUARANTEED TO HAVE "CALIBORN PRODUCTIONS PRESENTS." AND "BITCHES AND ASSHOLES."

SO, THAT IS THE END OF THAT GAME.

THEN THERE IS A GAME. WHICH IS APPARENTLY CONNECTED TO THE INTERNET. AND ON WHICH OTHER PEOPLE HAVE BEEN LEAVING MESSAGES. (IT IS NOT. AND IT'S ALL CODER.) AND THE MESSAGES ARE SUPPOSED TO GIVE SOME SORT OF INSIGHT? I DON'T GET IT. AND THEN THERE'S THE PUZZLE. AND THEN AT THE VERY END OF THAT GAME. THERE IS THE LAMPPOST AGAIN. AND A WHOLE BUNCH OF TYPEWRITERS. AND A THING ASKING YOU TO SPEAK. BLAMING YOU FOR NOT LEAVING NOTES. (WHICH YOU CAN'T.)

THEN THERE IS A WHOLE BUNCH OF GAMES. CALLED "PRISON GAMES." WHICH TRAP YOU AND DON'T ALLOW YOU TO ESCAPE. SERIOUSLY. LET'S BEGIN.

SO YOU HAVE A PRISON WITH ALL THIS MODERN FURNITURE. AND A VIEW TO THE OUTSIDE. WHERE THERE IS A WELL. AND A DOOR. WHICH SURPRISINGLY IS UNLOCKED. AND WHICH LEADS YOU. TO THE BOTTOM OF THE WELL. WHICH SOUNDS PRETTY USELESS. AND *IS* PRETTY USELESS.

THEN THERE IS THE VARIANT. IN WHICH YOU'RE ASKED TO MAKE YOUR OWN FURNITURE. BUT YOU ARE NOT LISTENED TO. AND INSTEAD. THE GAME MAKES ITS OWN PRISON. AND THEN REVEALS. A WHOLE BUNCH MORE FURNITURE. MAKING YOUR PRISON MUCH BIGGER. BUT STILL NOT ALLOWING YOU TO ESCAPE.

THEN THERE IS THE VARIANT. IN WHICH YOU'RE TAUGHT HOW TO ESCAPE *A* PRISON. (A. THE DISTINCTION WILL BE IMPORTANT LATER.) AND THEN YOU ARE BROUGHT TO *THE* PRISON. AND UNFORTUNATELY. THE STRUCTURE FOR *THE* PRISON IS FUNDAMENTALLY DISTINCT FROM THAT FOR *A* PRISON. AND YOU CAN'T ESCAPE.

THEN THERE ARE A WHOLE BUNCH MORE VERSIONS. WHICH DAVE JUST SKIPS US THROUGH. LIKE ONE. WHERE IT'S ALL UPSIDE DOWN. AND ONE. WHERE IT'S INSIDE OUT. (CREATIVITY THE ANDERSEN LAUGHED. I AM SO GOING TO KILL HER. JUST BEFORE I DIE. JUST IN CASE.)

AND FINALLY. THERE IS A VERSION. WITHOUT THE PRISON. AND SO. AS THERE IS NOTHING TO ESCAPE. YOU STILL CAN'T ESCAPE. BUT YOU CAN TALK TO YOURSELF. WHICH REVEALS ONCE AGAIN. THAT THIS GAME IS BASICALLY ALL ABOUT CODER TALKING TO HIMSELF. AS THEY'RE NOT PUBLISHED. THEY'RE THROWN ONTO THE HARD DRIVE TO ROT FOREVER. NOT MEANT TO BE PLAYED BY ANYONE. I LIKE CODER. HE IS SO ALTRUISTIC. HE DOESN'T WANT TO BE BLAMED FOR HIS WORK. SO HE IS NOT-

WAIT A MINUTE. IF CODER'S WORK IS NOT PUBLISHED. THEN HOW AM I PLAYING IT.

WHATEVER. LET'S GO ON.

THEN THERE IS A GAME. WHICH IS YOU GOING UP A HILL. BUT YOU CAN'T ENTER THE STUFF AT THE VERY TOP. SO YOU ENTER THE BUILDING IN BETWEEN. AND YOU ARE ASKED FOR. WAIT A MINUTE.

CLEAN A HOUSE.

SERIOUSLY. OF THE INFINITE POSSIBILITIES THAT A VIDEO GAME COULD POSSIBLY OFFER. CODER CHOOSES. THAT THE THING YOU SHOULD REALLY BE DOING RIGHT NOW. IS CLEAN. A FUCKING. HOUSE.

SOMETIMES CODER AMAZES ME WITH HIS STUPIDITY.

SO. YOU CLEAN A HOUSE FOR SOME TIME. (AND "SOME TIME" WAS ORIGINALLY INTENDED TO BE FOREVER.) AND THEN YOU CAN FINALLY GO UP THE DOOR ON THE TOP. SOLVE THE PUZZLE. AND FIND THE LAMPPOST. USUAL SIGNATURE SHIT.

THEN THERE IS A GAME. IN WHICH A TEACHER TALKS TO YOU. ABOUT HOW TO BE PERFECT. AND YOU ARE VARIOUS PEOPLE. LISTENING TO IT. UNTIL ONE POINT. YOU SUDDENLY ARE A TEACHER. AND IT IS REVEALED TO YOU. THAT THE TEACHER IS ACTUALLY AN ABSOLUTE PIECE OF SHIT. WHICH IS A METAPHOR TO TELL YOU. THAT *YOU* ARE ACTUALLY AN ABSOLUTE PIECE OF SHIT. YES. YOU KNEW THAT ALREADY. IF YOU FOLLOWED ME. LET'S MOVE ON.

THEN THERE IS A GAME. WHERE YOU ARE ON A STAGE. TRYING TO TALK TO SOME WOMAN. ENACTING THIS OTHER GUY'S LIFE. BUT THEN. THE OTHER GUY TELLS YOU THAT YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG. AND YOUR ONLY SOLUTION. IS TO LOCK YOURSELF AWAY FROM THE THEATER. DISTANCING YOURSELF FROM EVERYONE. WHICH IS A MESSAGE THAT I WHOLEHEARTEDLY AGREE WITH. IGNORE EVERYTHING BUT YOURSELF. LISTEN TO YOURSELF ONLY. AND THAT WAY. YOU WILL BE ABSOLUTELY GREAT. BECAUSE YOU WILL BE WITH YOURSELF FOR SO LONG. THAT YOU WILL PERUSE EVERYTHING. DID YOU REALLY THINK THAT EACH OF THESE STORIES TAKES MONTHS TO WRITE? WRONG. IT TAKES. LITERALLY FOREVER. SPED UP WITH TIME POWERS, OF COURSE. BUT STILL. NO LESS THAN INFINITY GRAHAM'S NUMBERS OF YEARS.

THEN THERE IS A GAME. FOR WHICH YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO CLOSE YOUR EYES. BUT LUCKILY. DAVE TELLS YOU. THAT IS A COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY STUPID IDEA. AND THUS YOU OPEN YOUR EYES. TO A MAYHEM ABOUT A THING THAT IS APPROACHING YOU. AND YOU HAVE TO SPEAK TO A CHARACTER WHO IS DOING THE ACTION OF "TRUTH." AND TELL HIM THE TRUTH. AND THAT STOPS THE GIANT THING FROM DESTROYING YOUR SHIP. WHICH IS ONCE AGAIN CALLED "WHISPER."

THEN THERE IS A GAME. WHERE YOU WALK THIS EMPTY PLACE. WITH ISLAND TREES. AND YOU ARE TALKED TO. BY WHO IS APPARENTLY CODER. TALKING TO HIMSELF. MENTIONING HOW HE IS COMPLETELY OUT OF IDEAS FOR GAMES. SO YOU ARE LED THROUGH THE PUZZLE. TO A MACHINE. THAT IS WALLS OF WORDS. WHICH YOU DESTROY. BUT THIS TIME, INSTEAD OF SAYING THE TRUTH. YOU SAY LIES. ABOUT HOW MAKING GAMES IS EASY. WHICH IS WRONG. BUT IT GETS TO DO WHAT YOU NEED TO DO. WHICH IS SEE THE PRISON FROM THE OUTSIDE. AND SEE A BITCH CRYING. CAN'T TELL WHO THE BITCH IS SUPPOSED TO BE. DON'T CARE.

THEN THERE IS A GAME. IN WHICH YOU HAVE CAPTURED CODER. TO MAKE HIM PAY FOR HIS MISTAKES. THE MEDIA APPROACHES YOU. YOU TELL THEM SHIT. THEY DO SHIT. YOU APPROACH CODER. YOU TELL HIM SHIT. HE DOESN'T DO SHIT. THEN YOU DECIDE THAT CODER IS NOT THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE TAKING THE RESPONSIBILITY. AND INSTEAD YOU DESTROY. EVERY SINGLE GAME THAT HE HAS MADE, EVER. THE TYPEWRITERS. THE STAGE. THE LAMPPOSTS. EVERYTHING. AND FINALLY. CODER HIMSELF.

AT THIS POINT. DAVE DECIDED THAT THERE WAS SOMETHING WRONG WITH CODER. SHOWED HIM THE GAMES. AND LOST CODER'S TRUST EVEN MORE. LEADING US TO THE FINAL GAME.

THIS GAME IS CALLED "THE TOWER." IN WHICH DAVE HAS ANGERED CODER SO MUCH. THAT HE MADE AN UNPLAYABLE GAME. WITH AN INVISIBLE MAZE. WHOSE WALLS MAKE YOU SCREECH IN HORROR AND GO BACK. AND A CODE. WHICH YOU HAVE TO GUESS. AND A PUZZLE. WHICH YOU CAN'T ACTUALLY SOLVE. SO DAVE SOLVES IT FOR YOU.

AND FINALLY. WE HAVE A MESSAGE FROM CODER TO DAVE. IT ROUGHLY TRANSLATES AS:

"GO FUCK YOURSELF, DAVE. THESE ARE MY GAMES. NOT YOURS. AND I AM ME. NOT YOU. SO YOU CAN'T PUBLISH MY GAMES. AND YOU CAN'T DISSECT ME. GO MAKE YOUR OWN GAMES AND DISSECT YOURSELF. PEACE OUT. AND ONCE AGAIN, GO FUCK YOURSELF."

OKAY, WELL, THEN MY QUESTION IS. WHAT THE FUCK AM I PLAYING. A PUBLISHED VERSION OF CODER'S GAMES. I.E. DAVE DID NOT RESPECT CODER. AND MUST BE KILLED.

AND THEN THERE ARE SOME OF DAVE'S LAMENTS. AS HE FACES HIS IMMINENT DEATH. AT THE HANDS OF THE GOD OF STORYTELLING. WHO IS ME. THUS BRINGING US TO.

THE END.

HERE'S THE DEAL. IF I AM NOT DEAD. ON APRIL THE FOURTEENTH, TWO THOUSAND ZERO HUNDRED AND SIXTEEN, I WILL POST HERE. AND THAT MEANS MORE OF THIS. BUT IF NOT. THEN IT IS ONE. TRUE. FINAL.

FAREWELL. BITCHES AND ASSHOLES.

I AM GOING TO MISS YOUR MISERY.

tumut