The F Plus - 246: Compose With Joystick Controllers

Episode Date: March 15, 2017

Cartridge Lit invites visitors to share video-game inspired poetry and prose, and a number of people have taken them up on that invitation, bringing their credentials with them. And so, what we have in this episode is a straight hour of reading meticulously written video game literature, and if it hurts you half as much as it hurt us, you're gonna need some Percocet before you hit play. This week, she's not breathing.

We gotta find shit to read. Yeah. We're gonna shit. Oh god, that means we have to read this website. I'm ready. That's okay, I'm going to chapbooks. That's a good idea. I'm gonna stab myself in the dick with a screwdriver.

Hello, class of 2017. This is the F Plus Podcast. It's a terrible place. There's terrible things. They're read with enthusiasm. In the room tonight we have Master of Fine Arts, Boots Reingear. Much of the time, I am struggling through the darkness,

hoping the grue does not eat me. Master of Fine Arts, Jack Chick. When you will try anything, you can turn your body into a game. Master of Fine Arts, Jimmy Franks. Jimmy Franks' essays and stories have appeared in a number of journals, including Ottoman Empire,

Hamster Hamper, Construction Paper Zone, Granny Fanny, and the Rattan Hut Review. Master of Fine Arts Achilles Heeles. My idea is hard to explain without a diagram, but basically, we can hold each other and kiss each other without being in the same room. Master of Stog Arts Stog. I broke the spectrum with my teeth. And lemon.

I pulled up my old PS2 and we played Tekken 3 until the Wii hours. My thumbs had forgotten nothing. My skills with Hua Rang, Nina, and Yoshimitsu was as solid as ever. Within ten minutes, he ten-hit comboed me with Haihachi. I called him a dirty motherfucking cheap-ass son of a bitch! This is your right. We left it all there on the battlefield that day. Do your best.

Big Nicky Bonfisso. Hey, F+. Hello. Hey, what is your favorite art form these days? Video games, the one true art form where you don't need to read dead tree format. Dead tree format? What's a dead tree format? You know, the format where you just put words onto dead trees and it like kills the environment

and then you don't stare at it because it doesn't fucking move and it's just oh stog are you high already I'm drunken high on life okay well I want to

tell you all about this very exciting website called cartridge lit it is available at cartridge lit dot com tell you all about this very exciting website called Cartridge Lit. It is available at CartridgeLit.com. It is not available, unfortunately, at CartridgeLit.it. So if anyone wants to snatch that up, it is available for, I believe it was $28. $28 will get you.

But this document was provided to us by Achilles Heelys. Oh, who's that? Yay! Oh, I know that guy. Fuck that guy. I know that guy, too. Achilles, why don't you tell me a little bit about what led us here? How did we get here?

Okay, well, I searched video game poetry on Google. Good. As one does. And this was the, I believe, third result. Okay. What came before that? Was it like GameFAQs or? You know, let's check it out.

Okay. Some hotline reaction for all of you. Hello, poetry is number one. Oh, yes, I get poetry You know what it's not it's not at the top anymore. I don't know what happened, but That won't be a did its thing so yeah, so this is cartridge lit it is is all Creative writing exercises about video games is that correct? Oh, no. Right. It's the best poetry, fiction, and non-fiction about video games on the internet. The best. From people with

some very serious qualifications. And they want you to know about them. Oh, my God. Exciting. Well, let's go straight here to cartridgelit.com slash about. And Jimmy Franks, why don't you tell me about this website that we're about to involve ourselves in?

Yes. Cartridge lit is an online literature mag dedicated to showcasing the best lit fiction, nonfiction, poetry inspired by video games. That is a terrible sentence. It's a terrible sentence. The best lit M-dash fiction, non-fiction poetry M-dash inspired by video games. We believe video games...

Oh, okay, you're right. We believe video games are important and vital to bracket pop and bracket culture. What the fuck? Pop culture? You've editorialized in the word pop

because... Whatever. It's a Kafka quote that they repurposed here. Hold on. Why shouldn't there be a lit mag dedicated to showcasing lit plus games? Ooh, I know, I know, I know.

Oh, Jack Check, Jack Check, what do you have? Because that's going to be fucking terrible. Yeah. Video games haven't earned their beard. See, I put that exact same argument. We don't know why not either, so here we are. That's a sentence I use when I'm about to do something bad. We want games inspired lit that takes risks and tempts edges, that sparks and burns.

Tempts edges? Yeah, tempts edges. It caused an electrical fire. Send us your uncharted prose poems No Final Fantasy 6 flash fiction No Oh boy

Segmented essays on transformation and mutation in games Chrono Trigger Donkey Kong Minecraft The Last of Us Games new and old Oh boy We want to showcase the power of what games inspired literature can do Games new and old. Hmm. Oh, boy. We want to showcase the power of what games-inspired literature can do,

what it can be, break our hearts, or light our minds afire. We're here. Press play. All your games lit are belong to us. Fuck you. Yay! Fuck! Fuck you. Yay! Fuck! Fuck you.

Okay, so I'm looking at the right, and there's tags. Yeah. And some of them are bold, which, like, doesn't bold usually mean it's a more common one? Yeah, it's a more common. Why is Galaga in bold? It's a rich story to be told there. Well, yeah, let's cut to this, because clearly it's an important artistic medium

that we need to expose ourselves to. So, Boots Reingear, your name is Cowlin Madden? Yeah. All right. I'm Kalen Madden? Yeah. All right. I'm Kalen Madden. And there's, you certainly did format this poem. I'm sorry.

I need a beer before I fucking listen to this. Hang on. All right. Okay. My poem is titled From Vast Necro Hall okay and there's a picture of a guy I believe from Final Fantasy 12

who cares looks like a Japanese pervert just know when you're listening to this if I say a noun that ends in a consonant, add an E on the end. Oh, that's good. Okay. That's how poetry works.

Yeah. Ahead the field of muck, I wade into the swamp. into the swamp. Fielded of Betel, a Teutonic man bears his midriff in tones. Vast

necrohol. I wade into the swamp. Square, square, square. Okay, so so far you went into a swamp, someone showed you their belly, and then said your square. Yeah. Okay, so so far, you went into a swamp, someone showed you their belly, and then said your name. Yes.

Okay. Level one, valediction forbidding. Oh, good. Fuck. Fuck. Slunge over the side of mine horse. I carry it, the Beluvad. I carry it. V, Beluvad.

Oh, no. Oh, God. Input, input, coad. Greater than, greater than, greater than, greater than. Level three, Alembic. Greater than, greater than, greater than, greater than. Plus one, Armour from thy blue-odd. Minus one dexterity from thy booty.

Is that supposed to be body? Is that what that is? Yes, I believe so. Okay. Okay. Plus one cossin to titan from... Breach butt and expansion. Hey, what did you call me? to titan from breach but an expansion hey breach but

hey jerky kept draveeing even after mean moont sangaka I tied my moont To a tree with the It's toonj

Toogney I bound mean eyes With blued androav To tested The necrohal Tag squares Autosave level boss I Tag. Squares. Autosave.

Level boss. I Kali your Boa die. The way point I clallet the final bossay. But the finale bossay

is my bodai kinoe, the goalie. It is still finally Sing King. The karaoke master is the Sing King.

I am the king of sing. I cannot speak because my mouth is cloased with the blowdew of Ollie the man and elf's eye

oh my god this is so fucking weird I can I cannot speaky Oh my god. This is so fucking weird. I can- I can-not-speaky-beak-away. I forget-how-to-connect-dee-the-merker-foan. Tag! Oh boy.

Squares. Cutscene. Skip, skip, skip, skip. Skip, skip, skip, skip, skip, skip. It's one of those unskippable cup scenes. X, X, escape. P, I don't know. S?

Face bar. Teutoniki. C4PT4 I Nope, that's a one Leetspeak Captain Just to point out that the word Captain was written in Leetspeak and is so far

the best spelled word in this poem I love it This is good Withy his dwelled belly-ish shirty his dwelled belly-ish shirty, his hammery, ye clept fuck monster 666!

Now it's getting good. I bid him sleep-ath, but harky! That is his voice in the cutscene cutscene for

ordained you do not chuzzy he is telling ye my story ye no matter ye my level no matter ye how much ye lycra and ye scull's Scully's I farmy for mine bra no matter how much she painy I farm a how much she sunny light.

I gate. I read 99. I opt. 99x. I optimizied at campy. Resistance at 99% 5. The katusin your resistance is fu... Oh, wait. Oh, God.

Okay. Is futile you watch them die. Orteal, you watchie them die. The toontonic man's abdomine flexeth with putrie. With putty. Putie. Putie. Sorry, I, yeah.

How dare you? Yeah, no, this is really easy to read. You fucked up their art, Jack. Guys, I'll do better next one. I'm really sorry. I was just, you know, performance anxiety. My grandfather was half Poot Yay. I'm 50% Poot Yay.

No matter how we many ti-ti-ti-i-me's you reloady. Tag! Square, square, square. I've never, I've never hated squares more. Square, square square square I've never I've never hated squares more square square square autosave oh captain

my septains I am sorry I silenced you with my brood vomit apology apology accepted with my blood vomit. Apology accepted. I am sorry my

blood vomit splashed on the cutscene. Among my people we grade each other blood for bloododol. Dom, you like us back in style. Among my people, this is tenadarness.

LOL, I died not. No, you, ye loved it not. LOL, I died not. No, we, ye would

be afraid. My beloved lieth at thee. I shall make my wiser. I shall make no

more blued. I shall optimize. What? more blood I shall optimize. What I have been provided equipping what shall best serve me for my work

of sinking the heaviest arrows the lady grieves 99 pointy arrow percent resistance to my

brood zero captain I read your voice again Zero Captain I heard your voice again Zero Captain 666 A beautiful voice

I clout Figged for And also loathe Zero Captain 666 Beautiful voice I clout for And also lobe. Zero, Captain 666, beautiful voice, the cloud, four and also lobe. Oh, cap plus ten, three grass.

Is it over? Yeah, let me tell you a little bit about the author. Oh, okay, good. Yeah, Kellan Madden is a PhD candidate in English Literature at Rutgers University. Fuck. Grass.

She has an MFA from Johns Hopkins where she first encountered Final Fantasy XII's Necrol of Nabudus. Her writing has appeared in Triple Canopy, Bone Banquet, Iron Horse Literary Review, The Great Gatsby Anthology, and Weird Sister, where she is a contributing editor. She lives in Brooklyn with her husband and daughter. I found a website that has an interview with her and an audio clip of her actually reading the poem. Oh my God. So if you want us a bonus content.

Oh my God. Is it at all like our reading? Probably. I don't know. I haven't listened to it. Oh, my God. We want to showcase the power of what games-inspired literature can do, what it can be. Break our hearts or light our minds afire.

Jesus Christ. It's so laborious. So, Achilles, thanks for really leading us in gently with this document. Yeah, you're welcome. Yeah. Things that we really... Well, you know, I learned to write from this website, and you want to start with the climax, right? Yeah.

I mean, there was a part of there that felt a little bit like naked lunch. Like this is like what Burroughs thought Ginsburg wrote like. I think this is what someone writes if they only thought about doing drugs. Well, now I would like to bring you my poem. My name is Julia Madsen. And on April 27th of 2016, I wrote my poem. My name's Julia Madsen and on April 27th of 2016, I wrote this poem. It's called Doll in Solitude.

Uh-huh. Here's a little picture of a doll and a short report on nature, the other, and shadows in the form of a game. Oh, God. That sounds fun. Okay. We're going to start off with a JavaScript variable.

So, dull equals prompt. What? Yeah. Open paren, quotation mark, do you want to play with the dull? Yes or no? Too uppercase. I don't know why I couldn't have just written that. Okay, so that's the first variable. Then switch dull.

Case, yes. Now we got a new variable called distance. That's a prompt. Color wildlife and biology. The color educes red. Recalls green. Now it echoes hue. To be sure, the grass may stain cloth and the woodland elicits distance,

shuddering inside demolition. In essence, this doll is worried about advanced capitalism. Oh, my God. It's like being with my creative writing class all over again. And neoliberalism's effect on the environment. Are you worried about this, too? Yes or no? Too uppercase.

There's a twist ending. You should have been yelling that whole fucking thing. Control-O-Mu-Eat. Okay. Got a new variable, and it's called America. That's a prompt. Growth is the process of an individual organism aging organically. Are we still in the switch statement?

Here it is. Yeah, we are still in the switch statement. Although, wait, there was no curly bracket. Yeah, so the switch statement was pointless. And then the case statement, obviously, should have brought a syntax error. Okay, okay. So here it is evidence in plants, trees, rocks, shadows, and others.

One is the loneliest. It encompasses a dissenting clique or the act of departing politely. For instance, communities don't grow alone, polite or unpolite. That's the word. This doll thinks that America is a plutocracy in which the wealthy attempt to avoid environmental laws

in order to maximize their bottom line. Do you agree? Yes or no? Also, too uppercase. No, no? Yes or no also to uppercase? If you put your shitty ideas Inside of you know like programming language it becomes poetry Yeah, as long as it's not programming language that actually works. Yeah. Yeah, like I don't know I've never written go Maybe this is that's part of the message man

know. I've never written go. Maybe this is what go looks like. That's part of the message, man. Erlang? I don't know. So a new variable is called find. Can you find the doll? Oh, here's the game part of the game, everybody. Yes. Yes. It's the part of the picture that looks like a doll. Hey, here's a variable called thinking.

Can you tell what the doll is thinking? Yeah, this is still the game part of the game. Is there? Okay. And finally finally we got alas and alas is a bird breathes in the dirt in the time it takes for a

planet to make a complete revolution to that end is that a comma no this is my dirty monitor to that end growing organisms are in a delicate balance. They are like a delicate chain link fence leading elsewhere. Thus, to go away from a place, M-Dash, silly death doll, M-Dash, is a full resolution.

Yes or no? So now I'm going to grade your scores. Great. I love grading. I'm going to grade your scores. Great. I love grading. I'm going to grade your scores. And if distance triple equals yes, so it is JavaScript, actually. Yeah, it's JavaScript. Or.

Or. If distance equals yes, or America equals yes, or I find equals yes. I don't know that that was one of the variables. Or thinking equals yes, or alas equals yes. I don't know that that was one of the variables. Or thinking equals yes, or alas equals yes. Then we're going to have a console log of how to arise unconfirmed error, or if not, else, console log, the leaf relates to the tree, it is requisite for shade. Boo.

Then break, then default colon. What the fuck? So we are still in that switch statement. Default colon? What the fuck? So we are still in that Switch statement. Then console log, undoubtedly, you are alive. I'm going to dredge up all my shitty short stories for my college days. I'm going to put them in a JavaScript prompt, and I'm going to sell on Amazon, and I'm going to be a fucking millionaire.

Are you going to read the profile for this poetry writer? Yeah. Well, before you do, I just wanted to point out that GameSpot gave that a score of 8 out of 10. Oh, so... That means it's the worst game you've ever played. IGN gave it

8.1. Julia Madsen received an MFA in Literary Arts from Brown University and is currently a doctoral student in English-slash-creative writing at the University of Denver. She is a writer, teacher, tutor, and volunteer. Her poems and multimedia work have appeared, or are forthcoming,

in Drunken Boat, Cake Train, Alice Blue Review, Black Warrior Review, Deluge, Dredgenald. Hi, I'm Dredgenald. dreg general I'm the dregs of Reginald tag work cut bank small portions and elsewhere god damn it god damn it god damn it okay alright

okay okay so Jack Chick yeah hi really excited to hear another one of these yeah just a little cold water on your face boys we got a ways to go this is really making Achilles Heelys grow in my estimation. Really happy to know him.

Yeah, yeah. Yeah, so Lemon, I just actually, before we move on, I want to know, what did you think when you didn't know me very well and I sent this poem to you on Steam that one time? I wake up some nights and say, how did I get here? That's... Okay. So, I think Stog, you get to make a choice here. Yes.

I got two different short sort of poems. One is called RuneScape. Oh. It's about RuneScape. And the other one is called Split Screen. You know, I used to play a lot of RuneScape when I was in like eighth grade. So let's go with RuneScape. Let's go down that fucking path, everybody.

Okay, great. So yeah, take me your poem. Your name is Liam Swanson. Oh boy, you're going to only read part of this poem, asshole. That's way too many squares. There's three separate poems on the page. Oh, yeah. Okay. Yeah. Okay. Okay. Yeah's three separate poems on the page. Oh, okay. We just want the middle one.

Okay. Yeah. Okay. Okay. Yeah. My name is Liam Swanson. I'm heir to the Swanson family dinner empire. Probably.

I don't get it. TV dinners will be the future of food in America. All right. Is this thing on? Unfortunately. I wasn't kidding about those TV dinners. Anyway, I have a poem. It's called RuneScape.

It's about a video game I played. Well, that's great. That means it's art. Yep. Anyway, RuneScape. What dragon is between us? Drop party. You in teal armor.

You in bark armor. Archer kills me. Yay! In forest. And I lose your ring. I mine coal and you give me a ring. And we marry. First sexual encounter.. First sexual encounter.

Private chat this purple text. Bury my giant bones. Your prayer level in fishing and cut right across the desert. We are just underneath the beginners. When fields are cast with

slaughtered goblins. The year Skater Boy came out, we killed a vampire together. Come on! Come on! Hey, Lemon. What? Where were you when Skater Boy came out? I mean, I don't know.

I feel like I was still... It was 2002. I guess I don't remember... I guess I don't remember I guess I don't remember like years in Avril Lavigne terms laughs what we found in his basement

switches on off daily you take me to runes and god words and black armored knights I mine silver and you cook a pie in the public house you take me to runes and god words and black armored knights. I mine silver and you cook a pie in the public house. My red bar. Is that a euphemism?

Loading screen takes forever. Oh. Oh. Just like this fucking poem. It's the shortest one, too. These hunters keep...

Are you sure? These hunters keep arrowing the wilds. Squeeze through. Take me. On. Sugar Battleaxe Lag. Sugar Battleaxe Lag! My DPS...

Sugar Battleaxe Lag! My DPS My DPS into you If you arrow me here I will leave behind all but three items Boo It doesn't matter I've already got a credit in my MFA journal. Fuck you! Jack-Jack, tell me a little bit about Liam, won't you?

Liam Swanson's work has in part appeared in Cabildo Online, Sonora Review, Platypus Review, Cloud Rodeo, The New Delta Review, and his forthcoming in Diagram. So, follow him on Twitter if you're interested in insects, communism, and or video games. I'm interested in all three.

Liam definitely does not own a fedora. Yeah, he owns a trilby. He owns a trilby. Are these published publications? Oh, well, no. I'm finding some of them. I can actually Google for some of them. Oh, boy.

Sonora Review exists. Does Platypus Review exist? Liam Swanson on August 31st tweeted, Read my X-Files erotica now in issue 16.4 of Diagram. I think it's nice. We'll get right on that. I would like to

just give you the sentence from I'll let you just give you a sentence from the Platypus Review. Taking stock of the universe of positions and goals that constitutes leftist politics today, we are left

with the disquieting suspicion that a deep common... Oh my god. Okay. Jimmy Franks. Yes, sir. Alright, I'm going to give you a choice. I'm actually pretty excited about these two choices right now. Well, then it can't be that bad.

Yeah, no, no. Start with optimism. That way you have so much further to fall. All right, so, Jimmy Franks, you've got two options. Option number one is called It's Dangerous to Go Alone. Okay. That's a poem. Yep, some classic Zelda.

Drop in some Zelda knowledge. All right. And option number two That's a poem. Yep. Some classic Zelda. Dropping some Zelda knowledge. All right. And option number two, also a poem, and it is called Ellipsis, Erm, what's his name again? Ooh. Oh, man. I'm going to go with the second one. I never go wrong with the second one. Oh, I didn't know you had a strategy at this point.

Go with number two, Pat. Go with number two. All right, fantastic. Your name is Leilakati. Leilakati. Leilakati. All right. And, yeah, tell me about your social.

Your Blink-182 song reimagined in second person. Watch his name again. Not even your goddamn grandfather can remember your name. I hate it. That we both own that specific brand of suffering, fucked up families. I mean, what kind of broken mother sends her child wilderness bound with a backpack,

a pet, and a pet on the ass? God, mom, I'm 11. What do I know about battles? What I know about battles is keeping a berry tree alive past its first sprout. Is this satire on Pokemon? Yep. Yep, it sure is.

That guy over there knows what I'm talking about. What I know of patience is walking the long way around the tall grasses. My only risks, ledges. Oh my god. All I've ever known of desire is possession. When he asks me to name my enemy, it's always after someone I used to love. What's the difference?

Something small and painful, I'm sure. Unimportant when it all comes down to it. A splinter, a pebble in my shoe. Choose! Choose, goddammit! Come on! I always make these decisions for you. Destiny sits round in my palm.

Yours is whatever foils me. Lick of fire to my tranquil green sea-lapped against my single spark. Fucking fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck off. I want to be the very best. And the best is only better than you. Be the very best.

My whole life alongside yours. Your steps the trail to every town your shadow the dark of every cave I know I know in the end it comes down to this you and I together

on the road to victory your body locked there looking out in the final battle, your name tumbling from my mouth. Stop! Is this the angry step-to-step? Layla Chadi is a Tunisian-American poet currently residing in Raleigh, where she is an instructor and MFA candidate in poetry at North Carolina State University. Of course it's a fucking MFA candidate. In her previous life, she was a high school special education teacher in the San Francisco

Bay Area. Her work has most recently appeared in Rattle and Decomp, and you can find her blogging at leilachaddy.blogspot.com. Let's go! In Pokemon, she always pickslogspot.com. Let's go. In Pokemon, she always picks fire type. Great. You know, thank you. I am fucking finally someone will mention that in their author bio every fucking time.

Which Pokemon type is your favorite? Oh, I went to school. I can't help but feel like these blurbs are fucking bullshit because like we've read a lot of fucking poetry on this podcast and this poem suffers from the same fucking problem they all do. Like there's no concept of scansion or rhythm or meter or like form. Well, that's because they're pushing the battle. You're thinking on too simplistic terms here, Jack Chick. Yeah. Well, it's because poetry...

You're not at the level that these people are. Well, poetry doesn't come from education, man. It comes from the heart, so... Oh, so that's the problem here. Yeah, that's the problem. All right. Too much education. Mm-hmm.

So, we have been recording this episode For I think six or seven hours Sure feels like that Really it feels like days And Now we're going to move away From the poetry section Into the fiction section

Oh good And Achilles Heeles you brought this poem To us or you brought this Document to us, or you brought this document to us. You seem to have a whole bunch of fiction here. Yes. I am going to present it back to you, and you are going to edit it down judiciously. Sure am. So your name's B.R. Yager?

That's right. Hi, everyone. My name is B.R. Yeager. Welcome to the Unauthorized Guide to Circles Drain. Overview. Circles Drain, released as a bunch of Japanese characters in Japan, is a top-down... One of those is...

Why does Wikipedia still think I'm talking about a Katy Perry song? I don't understand. ...is a top-down action RPG slash farm simulator for the Sega Game Gear. If you've never played this kind of game before, you should familiarize yourself with the instruction manual before

beginning a new game. Yeah, great. Thanks, B.R. Yeager. So this is the Fantendo wiki presented as fiction? Yeah, it's as art, I believe. Great. Good. Good. Yay. Players control a farmer named Henry.

The objective is to help Henry manage his crops and livestock while also maintaining a successful marriage. Circles Drain does not have a password or save function, so be sure to set aside at least three hours before playing. No. Oh my god. No. Implement a save game function.

Fuck you. Hell no. It's a a save game function. Fuck you. Hell no, it's a real-time farming simulator. Yay! Also, you're the person who has to figure out how to change your Game Gear's batteries without it dying in the middle of it. Not just that, not just that, but like, yeah, you know what the best place to release our game that requires three hours to play is? A portable device.

You can take it anywhere, dude. Yeah, no, totally. Yeah, and it weighs 20 pounds. But you can be on a bus for at least three hours. All right, getting started. Oh, no, that's boring. Okay. Great.

The screen will... Hey, skipping parts. Yay. The screen... No, no, no. Hold on. So you play a farmer named Henry. Can we get the statistics of Henry?

Yes, give us the characters. Yeah, I'll do that. The screen will fade to black, and a small man will appear, accompanied by some text. Name, Henry Kowalski. Age, 87. Occupation, farmer. Okay, I mean... This is Henry.

He's been real forgetful lately, so sometimes he needs a helping hand with his chores around the farm. Let's see what we can do to help! Fuck! The man fades into the background and a woman takes his place.

Name, Alana Kowalski. Age, 84. Occupation, Henry's wife. This is Henry's wife, Alana. She has been real tired and two weeks ago she found blood in the toilet. What? Shit.

Shit. I'm so tired of people using that cough as a sort of plot device. I feel like you could be a lot more creative. Yeah. I like the idea that the toilet was perfectly clean and then she went to it and was like, I found all this blood. Nobody's even peed in it or anything. It's just there.

All the plumbing goes directly to Silent Hill. Oh, the toilet backed up again. Oh, there's bones. The TV show? Yeah. Bones the TV show and bones. Alright, well, she found blood in the toilet. Let's see if there's something we can do to help. Press the to button to begin.

Consult a proctologist. Press to to call a proctologist. Press to to stick a finger in her butt. So day one, does someone want to be Henry and someone want to be Alana? Oh, I'll be Henry. I'm Alana. Okay. Monday morning.

Henry and Alana lay in bed. Golden sunbeams fall through the windows and fill the room with light. This is achieved on the Game Gear's fucking shitty screen, apparently. Yep. Yeah. Yeah. It's really majestic. The sounds of bird calls and dog barks can be heard from outside.

Henry yawns and stretches his arms overhead. A dialogue box appears at the top of the screen. Good morning, Alana. Good morning, dear. Looks like another beautiful day out today. That's nice, dear. Use the directional pad to move Henry around the bedroom. It's going to take me an hour and a half to take a piss.

Press two to interact with objects and Alana. He pressed a two on Alana. No, I didn't say that. Thank you. If you press two next to the armoire, Henry will say, There's dust on everything. Jesus, what is happening? If you press two next to the closet, Henry will say,

But I'm already dressed! If you press two next to Alana, she will say, I'm so tired. There's nothing else to do here, so exit the bedroom through the door to the cell. Yay! Kudos, Todd Howard! You've done it again!

Alright, walk down the stairs to the kitchen. Press 2 next to the refrigerator and a menu will appear. From the menu, you can select, eat moldy casserole, eat old steak, or drink expired milk. Or press 1 to exit. I'd like to speak to an operator instead, please.

Are we playing a watch old people die simulator? Yes. Achilles, Achilles, will you tell me about the chicken coop minigame? Sure. Head south towards the chicken coops. Before feeding the chickens, walk east to the side of the house. You will see Henry's dog, Artimo, tied to a tree. Press 2 next to Artimo to make him bark.

Henry will say... Bark! Bark, you son of a bitch! Henry will say... Artimo is a good dog. Walk back to the chicken coops and stand next to the grain barrel. Press 2 to pick up a handful of grain. Stand next to the chicken coops and press 2 to feed the chickens. Henry will say,

There aren't any chickens to feed. There is nothing else to do here, so exit by walking north. I'm really enjoying this Tom Waits simulator, by the way. Hot minigame action. All right. I'm going to skip forward a little bit. Yeah. From the dining room, walk north to enter the bathroom.

You will see a small flashing dot on the sink. Stand in front of it and press 2. Henry will say, I think Alana said I need to take these pills. A menu will open prompting you to take pills? Select either yes

or no. Your choice will have no effect on the game. Okay, then why is this happening? What happens if I say no? It shoves the pills in my mouth anyway? This game feels like it's been ported from the CDI Interactive, to be honest. If you select no, Henry goes, but I have a crippling addiction.

Upon entering, Henry will say, How are you feeling, hon? Alana is still lying in bed. She doesn't respond. Stand next to her and press 2. Hen you will say. Alana? Question marks.

Periods. She's not breathing. She's not breathing. She's not breathing. She's not breathing. She's not breathing. She's not breathing. She's not breathing. She's not breathing. She's not breathing. She's not breathing. She's not breathing. She's not breathing. She's not breathing.

She's not breathing. Gareth Jocka. Gareth Jocka. Guess it was. Guess it was. Gareth Jocka? Yeah, I think you learned Frere Jocka phonetically. Yes. Okay. So anyway, after that...

Gareth Jacko. Yeah, Gareth Jacko. Come on. Oh, my God. Oh, so this is a watch old people die simulator. Yeah, it is. It is. Yeah, okay.

Wholesome. Wholesome entertainment. I don't know that we need more of this, honestly. Oh, my God. Oh, this is... Day question mark. Henry lays in darkness. Can we just speed run this

and find out what happens at the end? Sure. Return inside and walk upstairs to the bedroom. Stand next to the bed and press 2 to climb in. Accept that there's nothing you could do to make the people you've loved last forever. Except that there was never any way for you

to replace the bits of yourself that gradually fell away. Accept that you will come out of this world as nothing more than matter and electricity. And in time, no one will know you were ever here to begin with. Oh my god. Press one to close your eyes.

Press and hold two to let go. A bell chimes. The world blurs and twists into a fractal of neon light and dissolving golden hoops. Oh, like Sonic. Yeah, like Sonic. Men and women without faces appear and flicker into particles.

Everything fades to black before returning to the title screen. There are no other endings. Except for the ending where you get to fuck Knuckles. Sega. Stog, tell me a little bit about this auteur, please. As Love 16, B.R.

Yeager played Harvest Moon only for its dating simulator, resulting in the ruin of countless virtual farms. His work has appeared in Cheap Pop, Unbroke Journal, Pigeonholes, Mixtape Methodology, and Freeze Ray Poetry.

Oh my God. It sounds like you just made those up. Jaeger currently lives in Western Massachusetts with his fiancée. I love that we've never seen the same journal twice, either. I feel like I misheard Stog, because I didn't hear the part where that guy's an MFA candidate. It's implied heavily. Did I just like black out or something? Like what's going on?

Well, I mean, technically isn't everyone an MFA candidate? Everybody's an MFA candidate now. Fucking apparently. It can come any one of these days. Yeah, that's a fair point. Oh, God. Oh, God. Hey, that's a fair point. Oh, God. Oh, God. Hey, that was way worse than I thought it was.

I didn't like that. I didn't like that. No. There wasn't a lot of comedy in She's Not Breathing. In Lars von Trier's Harvest Moon. My first nihilism. Chaos reigns, Lena.

Great. Thanks, Stone. I don't know. I liked it. Oh, boy. Oh, boy. Should we read Mega Man 2? Yes. Okay.

I guess we'll read Mega Man 2. Jack Chick! Hi! Is your name... Your name's... Oh, okay. Okay. Your name's Ollie Johns?

No, it's Oil Johns. You know what? I've read that so many times, and I read it as oil Johns every time yeah yeah yeah it's actually Oli Johns Oli Johns put on your oil Johns

you're gonna skip a lot do you want me to start at the beginning and then just skip shit or yeah do it I skipped all the way down to your bio Do you want me to start at the beginning and then just skip shit or? Yeah. Do it. I skipped all the way down to your bio and you're a ZZ fan, so.

This will be good. This is going to be great. All right. So. Good. Teleporting man taps the pad with his finger. Next, you're walking in the desert and you see a child lying on the sand. It is bleeding to death.

You help the child or find the evil robot that put it there. Well, let's see. I guess I find the evil robot that put it there. And then what? I kill it? Good. Okay, let's try a little background. Teleporting man puts the pad down and explains the mission. I am a robot of peace and to achieve peace I must kill. I must contend against the evils of Dr. Wily. I am a robot of peace, and to achieve peace I must kill. I must contend against the evils of Dr. Wily.

I must fight... Oh my god! I must rip off Philip K. Dick. I must fight the other men, the ones with only one function, the villains. Woodman, Metalman, Airman, Bubbleman. He explains each one in detail. What about

Gutsman? He's already dead. Gutsman? detail. What about Guts Man? He's already dead. Guts Man. What about Guts Man? Guts Man was Mega Man 1, Lemon. I'm sorry. You're right. You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know why you're saying this. I know it already. Training Man told me. Oh, come on.

All right. Let's just skip a little bit here. Great. me oh come on all right let's just skip a little bit here one great 1.24528 seconds later the black square picture above the red square picture vanishes good so does teleporting man and the teleportation machine and the gray walls and the instruction manual and white light brown ground Brown ground. It's a forest more 2D than anything I've ever seen in my 47 minutes of life. Oh, right, because, yeah, okay. The wooden machines spring out of the ground, leaving no hole, aiming things at me. I don't know what. It's okay.

I was warned about this. Everything will try to kill you incessantly. Don't be scared. I'm not scared! I don't even know what scared means! I push forward jumping, shooting, jumping, shooting! Doing those annoying jumping puzzles where all the blocks disappear

and reappear and they go It's weird. The little white dots work so well in practice, but they don't seem to be killing much now. Leaves slice my cheek. It stings. I expect red, but it doesn't come. The man in the training room told me it wouldn't.

You're a robot. Training man. I think his name is Proto Man, isn't it? Training man. Okay. I guess he was right. I shoot the thing that sent the leaf. Six shots and it's dead.

I move on down a ladder and underground into a surprisingly clean cave. You're not... What? You're not wrong. This is Philip K. Dick. A giant metal chicken runs at me, panicked, but no real threat. I shoot it three times in the beak. It disappears.

Dies? I don't know. I guess so. I move on, shooting, jumping, shooting, climbing, until I'm back in the forest. Oh my god. Which part did you like in this? I try

to look sideways between the gaps in the trees, but it seems I don't have that function. More running, more shooting, more giant chickens with zero padding. Too easy. Way too easy.

Another leaf! Oh, fuck you! That sting again? What is it? I don't like it. Skip, skip, skip. Yep, yep, yep. Is it true that teleporting

man didn't tell you how to beat this guy? That is in fact exactly where I skipped to. Great! Is, uh, who's gonna be reading the quotes? Jimmy Franks. Jimmy Franks will be reading this dialogue for you. Okay, fantastic. Teleporting man didn't

tell me how to beat this guy, but he did say he was evil, so I'm sure it'll all work out. Hold on. You already read it. Yeah. Oh, I see. Okay. Join me in our chat now.

Says Woodman. Says Woodman. I was told not to speak, but I do it anyways. What? Uh. Uh. I don't understand. Uh.

I don't understand. Says Woodman, jumping on the ceiling and stopping just short of smashing his own head in. I still don't understand. What language are you speaking? He throws leaves and shit at me and I make the most of it in the face. Whoa! Oh, you can't swear at Mega Man. That's against the rules.

No, no, no. Leaves and shit. You won't die easy, training man told me. But you're not invincible either. I start shooting numbers over aim. Sure, my little white dots will make it through that wooding padding. They don't. They ricochet off and... Uh... I ignore him and try dodging like I did

in the training room 22 minutes ago. It worked then. It doesn't work now. Half a dozen leaves slice into my side, beginning to think the training was named wrongly, feeling weak. I don't know if Mega Man I felt this too, but more leaves, more slices, more something that could be pain. I don't like it. I really don't like it.

Hey, Jack Chick. Yes. Skip down to I shoot some more. Great. I shoot some more. Bubble Man stops moving and looks me dead in the eye. He conveys nothing. His suit, his body convulses, then splits into six or eight pieces.

Six or eight. It's too fast to be sure. I stare. Dr. Goddamn Wiley. Six to eight pieces. Six to eight pieces. I feel sick in my throat. You don't need.

Someone threw shit at you. You don't need eights as a voice that may or may not be training, man. Dr. Wily does, but you don't, and that is why you will win. Win? I don't even want to play. The suit does. Poses. Triumphant.

I expect all of Bubble Man's workers to rush in and kill me, but they don't. I hear music that is neither foreboding nor trance. Wait, wait. Is there a third kind of music? No, there is not. I have a custom RSS feed for all the music in the foreboding genre on Bandcamp. Share that with me, Stog. White light.

Red water. Ten thousand kelvins and somehow I'm not sweating a drop. I don't want to do this anymore, but the suit does, so I go forward, shooting more metal that wants me dead. Jumping over lava that probably isn't real lava, but it's still programmed just enough to kill me. Split me into six or eight pieces like Bubble Man. Can lava do that? I blink and the suit has me at the energy bar doors already.

They open. I shoot. Oh good. Oh good. Uh, uh, uh. Okay, um. Okay, okay. You're Heat Man. Says what I assume is heat, man. Shut up.

No. I shoot more dots, each one bouncing off fire and disappearing from programming range. I'm not listening. I'm not listening. Uh. No. The fire continues, hitting me square on. It stings. I don't feel good.

Uh. Says Heat Man. Don't. I say, the suit raising my arm to shoot he doesn't listen things get very hot and very very cold skip skip skip

skip skip skip yay teleporting man stares at my 28 pixel face in its 52 pixel suit fuck you he picks up a pad the same one he used to ask me all those weird questions before what are you doing achilles helios uh you're a teleporting man There's a hurricane coming to your village. People live in shacks. Some of them are going to die. Do you find the robot that made the hurricane

or save the people? You can't make a hurricane. That's stupid. Teleporting man looks at the pad, then back up again. Do you find the robot that made the hurricane, or save the people?

If I do this correctly, can I take a break? Answer the question. Okay. Do you... Coming soon, Mega Man 3! Oh, fuck!

You know what they say, repetition is literature. Yeah. All good literature is entirely repetition. War truly is hell. I really liked Zack Snyder's reboot of Mega Man. It was really good. I really liked Zack Snyder's reboot of Mega Man. It was really good.

By the way, Ollie is ZZek Press. I don't know what that means. That's just a sentence. Ollie is ZZek Press. Cool. Cool. But he doesn't have the little thing over the eye, so I don't know. He lives in Hong Kong, city of no zines.

What? What? Okay. Oh, whatever. He has a Bizarro novel called Lube John the Watch, which, coming out quietly next year with permuted press. That's pretty honest. He can't

complete Mega Man 1, even on the emulator version, because it won't let him recharge his special weapon energy. Also, those swooping fucking penguins, they don't stop coming. They always sneak in mid-jump. He makes zines, which is weird, seeing as how it's a city of no zines.

The latest one has a cover with all the villains from Mega Man 2. It will be sent to the offices of Nintendo or Capcom or the angry video game nerd, not Sega. Don't encourage the angry video game nerd. Yeah. I don't know. Do you think that the angry video game nerd not saying courage the angry video game nerd I don't know do you think that like the angry video game nerd would find this guy annoying I

don't know what the fuck is this fucking story fucking about three shit fucking stupid fucking shit is fucking stupid why they put things on cliffhangers? It's so stupid. Ah! Oh, boy. So they're all like this from now on. Sorry. You mean just like literature?

Like all literature is like this? Or just life. Yeah, life. This has been a very sobering episode. This is the new normal. Yeah, great. Well, so that was the fiction section. The last section we're going to read here is the nonfiction section.

Oh, no. Finally. Wait. And I mean, I don't. Before we continue, Achilles. Yeah. Explain your comments on the nonfiction section. Oh, it's all bullshit.

So it's still just fiction. Okay. Cool. Yay. Okay. Well, I don't know what sort of quality of writing we're in here, what we're in for here. what sort of quality of writing we're in here, what we're in for here, but I do know

that this story is called John Cena is the only thing that is left here. I know what that's like after a couple weeks without going grocery shopping. All you got in the fridge is a bottle of mustard and some John Cena.

John Cena. All you got in the fridge is a bottle of mustard and some John Cena. John Cena. Jimmy Franks. John Cena is the only thing that is left here. By Brian Olu. You couldn't blame her the weeks prior had thrown trees through places trees I could try the weeks prior had thrown trees

through places trees have never been had torn scars through asphalt neighbors pouring out from front doors that no longer exist children stomping on anthills to watch insects stronger than will ever be tangle their bodies together to escape the caving in of all they have built. What?

Yeah, that's what's said. But nothing about the game was real. Not in how his grotesque mouth would open to nothing. How those were textures that didn't deserve mapping. Here, a place that doesn't deserve the shaping of polygons. Of how we dig with our hands and still say the wrong thing at dinner tables. I mean, well, there's still polygons. There's still the inside of, like, whether or not it's textured.

I don't know, man. It's still rendered in 3D space. I didn't go to Art Institute. I don't know how this shit works, all right? Let me finish. Lemon, I'm an MFA candidate. I don't understand how to actually make this. Oh, MFA candidates.

Despite not knowing what exists outside of cages, that the world around us knows more about where we are than we do us, brooms in hand bringing whatever we could gather, because gathering is the only thing that we could possibly think to do. Yeah, brother. So this is about video games. Yep. Yeah, I'm assuming it's one of the WWF video games.

And I'm going to skip way ahead. That sounds great. That sounds super great. Thank you. Perhaps this is why these days we don't believe in gravity. A leap with a man on his back before sending him crashing to the floor.

Oh, fuck. We beg buttons to try to coax our men to get up because this is what we were taught to do when we were young. That there was something that we could do if we were down and out on the floor. Eyes to the fluorescent lights. That this is our natural reaction

to try to put action into something that is long left dormant. And so when someone walks in and mistakes what is on the television for something real, despite the fact that this is an artifice of an artifice of an artifice, I can unfold them. That there are dust clouds where houses once stood.

I think if you mistake one of the WWE video games for actual people, you should take an eye exam. Despite one's desire to change, to become something new, to reinvent, to wave a hand over a different face, we are still locked

into an array of repetition, of not seeing things that we can no longer see, but seeing the absence so clearly. Uncle! Uncle, please! God, uncle! This is a submission poetry reading.

This match is scheduled for one fall. Achilles, can you give us the summary of Brian Oliu? Oh, okay. Brian Oliu is originally from New Jersey and currently teaches at the University of Alabama. So don't... Oh, that's what he means by they don't believe in gravity anymore.

So don't fucking go there. He is the author of three full-length collections. So you know it's me. Tiny Horror Hardcore. Sorry. Hold on. Tiny Hardcore Press. Tiny Hardcore Press 2011.

He's got him in the Tiny Hardcore Press! A series of Craigslist misconnections. Leave Luck to Heaven. Uncanny Valley Press 2014. An ode to 8-Bit Video Games Enter Your Initials for Record Keeping by the Cobalt Press Essays on NBA Jam

and IO Civil Coping Mechanisms A Memoir in the Essays on NBA Jam? Essays on NBA Jam? Yeah! Essays on NBA Jam, Have you heard of those? A collection thereof,

obviously, because... Yeah, it's in three parts. It's Boom Shakalaka. He's heating up. He's on fire. Why do I have Bill Clinton on my basketball team?

So I'm looking here at the page on Goodreads for So You Know It's Me by Brian Ulio. It has a terrific, terrific rating of 4.43, spread over 68 ratings with 18 reviews. spread over 68 ratings with 18 reviews. So You Know It's Me is a collection of lyric essays that were posted on the Tuscaloosa-Craigslist Missed Connections board

over the course of 45 days. On the 45th day, in accordance with Craigslist policy, the essays began to erase themselves. See it? So it's beautiful because it's like it's captured in a moment of time.

Except for he collected it in a book and therefore fucked it up. It's no longer in a federal of time, except for he collected in the book and therefore it's no longer in federal. Right. Exactly. But anyway, my name is Mel Bosworth and I gave this collection five stars. I don't want you to guess what I was drinking. I was drinking Earl Grey tea.

I was drinking Earl Grey tea and I was reading Brian Oliu's new book. So, you know Know It's Me, when you and your strong lavender approached. You were wearing cut-off jean shorts. You had a thing in your hair. Maybe chopsticks? Scissored? You were squeezing a copy of a book about water.

You had a funny look in your eyes, like your eyes were broken. Dangling. Maybe your eyes were cleaning windows on the skyscraper of you. I am. I'm not going to click that more. Yeah, because it goes on for a very long time. Jesus. Yeah.

So the tiresome asshole virus is spread through language. Yeah. It's a it's a potty pool except for MFA candidates. I want to read just the review, the beginning of the review from Matt. It's ridiculously stingy of me to mention this, but it needs to be said of the purported 45

short essays Olio posted on Craigslist, this includes only half the odd-numbered ones. Oh, fuck. It's like Star Trek movie rules. Yeah, that's why I gave it four out of five stars. Wait, so we got all the shitty ones. Oh, my dear

Christ. Jesus wept. I don't think we should read any more nonfiction. I just... I don't think we should read any more of this. Hey, F+, what did we learn from Cartridge Lit? Whenever I meet a fucking MFA candidate, I'm just beating the shit out of them. Yeah, good idea.

Good plan. Because odds are they right for this. Mm-hmm. I'm not sure if that's how that works. I learned that I'm glad that, you know, I got more involved with this podcast so I can share my pain with other people. The thing is that it starts to

catch up to you because when it becomes a known thing that you involve yourself in this thing, then people just find you, and then they're like, hey, check out this Juggalo poem. It's like, fuck! Why is this the next 10 minutes of my life? I can't not read it. And by people, I mean the people in this room.

There is a smugness in this literature that I have not seen since those early Pitchfork reviews. It feels like, I mean, it's weird because there's a point where it feels like it's somebody that's trying to punk fiction, but then

they're actually devoting themselves because it's not like they're shitposting this site. Like, that's their output. That's their genuine output that crosses different sites. The only thing I could figure out... Well, no, but... Okay, I was going to say, the only thing I could figure out is it's like, you know,

they want to show to their parents, like, oh, I didn't waste my life in college. Look, I'm published. Yeah, look at my 2400 words about Pokemon. But they also published on like six other like things no one's heard of. So I don't know. Okay, so here's my question.

If you're cartridge lit or Mega Man Stories Guide or Ljubljana Watch or any of these things, obviously you have an open submission process and you're like, you know, hey, send us your thing. Do you edit them? Do you reject them?

Do you read them? Or do you just publish whatever? I think they're all just, I think they're just all scratching each other's back so they can get that paid writing job with Kotaku or Polygon or whatever. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I think they check the word count or they check to see if you formatted it funny and then they submit it. But they want it to be formatted. Oh, yeah.

No, that's a plus. That gets you on the front. Right. Yeah. Yeah, just have like a filter that automatically puts character returns in commas like it's iambic pentameter. But it still doesn't flow that way,

so that's fun. That would actually be a pretty good bot to write. Just a thing that took any text and just formatted it into iambic pentameter. The website is THEFPL.US. Our forum is Ball Pits.

We've got stickers that benefit the Southern Poverty Law Center and, I don't know, like a bunch of other shit that you can do or buy or whatever. And we have

an exciting thing. A thing. A thing. A thing will happen April 1st. A real thing happening April 1st. On the internet. Okay, bye-bye.

Bye. Goodbye. Mega Man 3 coming out 2018. Paul Crenshaw's work has appeared or is forthcoming in Best American Essays, Best American Non-Required Reading, Anthologies by Houghton Mifflin, and W.W. Norton Echo Tone Brevity North American Review.

Why is it not required? Best American Non-Required Reading.