Thought.is

Something strange happened. I played through the first two hours feeling like I had not made a single good decision. I told my wife, semi-jokingly saying, “This game feels like life.” Aviva defaults into a sturdy hatred for all games, no matter their configuration, but my reaction intrigued her. As I progressed through the dystopic Georgian nightmare, Aviva watched. She was drawn in. The game transcended its gameness for both of us.

We slept at her place. I didn’t sleep at all. The night air felt cool, and haunted by some animal’s light. I haven’t watched the film since, afraid that any new viewing will shift my sense of its original terror, which has frozen inside me, and which I know is not replicable.