I am a visually inclined person, and this definitely translates into my poems but was definitely something in my aesthetic that became, how would I say—tweaked?—after being groomed by the visuals and movements and patterns of video games. Additionally, I find myself pulled toward accumulation, saturation, bombast, and overlap, in language as well as image—looking back at my gaming history, it’s no surprise…
I didn’t mean to fail my Big-Wheel mission, but still, I returned to the checkpoint with wet socks, staring across the luscious emerald field that was my pool cover and that had just folded over me, clinging to my lanky body like saran wrap.
i get a magnifying glass from inside the house. there are no blades of grass. the grass is a giant mob of tiny imps from the game doom.
We think video games are literature, and so why shouldn't there be literature about video games? That's the question we're hoping to answer here. Read more.
