They came bearing gifts, or so I thought. They wore the faces of my own family, and ate mince pies with expert mimicry. Oh my friends - I am ashamed to say that I suspected nothing. Then the noise I would come to know as the console alarm began: gentle at first, designed to pacify.
“Wee-oo, wee-oo, wee-oo, WEE-OO...”
They asked me about my job, mostly. Sometimes they would send others, more uncannily familiar faces, and they too would ask me about my job. I knew what they wanted - names, numbers, free games - but I’m too clever for them. I’ll eat their food, drink their wine. I’ll bury my head in these strange, bloodless video games. Designed to pacify. But I’ll not be consoled so easily.
I have spent today drifting between this place and another, which they call Nintendo Land. It is a world much like our own, but its edges have been rounded off by some divine and diligent sander. For every corner a curve.
I’d managed to conceal a copy of Card Hunter’s PAX demo on a 3½ inch floppy disk in my colon, but its respite has proven fleeting. These fiends will not let me out of their site, and talk of nothing but couch co-op. It is comfy, but it is not the same.
This wee-oo has broken me. Without regular crashes to desktop I know not when to take my tea break. Without tea breaks, is an hour even an hour? A day a day?
I am left with naught sane to do but wax epistolary in this finely-bound leather jotter the rotters have foolishly left me with. Know they not what I can do with words?
I gave them Julian. Lord forgive me, they asked for Julian and I offered him up like a turkey with a talent for high-concept newswriting. Breakfast today: spaghetti bolognaise with a garnish of torn blue jeans. Mince decidedly chewy.
They’ve given me a laptop. Its keys are sticky with guilt, but I must type. Tomorrow: penance. Jules? PC gaming? I’m sorry.
Today is a new day. Nobody comes. It will be a day about Dishonored, and CRPGs. A day about PC games. Mostly though, it will be about Card Hunter. Is that okay?