‘Skull Kid’s Lament for the Dead’ and other poems
Liam Swanson
I don’t care for the end
of this game. Every struggle is the struggle
for the maintenance of heterosexuality.
I don’t care for the end
of this game. Every struggle is the struggle
for the maintenance of heterosexuality.
The surface is a knot
That tightens on one end while it loosens
On the other. The sky is full of ether.
Tubes lead nowhere. The wall persists.
After failing to write one word for four months, I decided I had to make the dissertation a game. I had to treat myself like a child—develop a system of rewards. The method came to me in a flash: eight proposed chapters, eight Aeons in FFX. The idea of a pilgrimage. My old, dusty idol.
I go to fight the Deathclaw Queen, now that I’m strong enough to kill it. And I do. But Tycho dies. Reload. I die. Reload. Dogmeat dies. Reload. Tycho dies. Reload.
We’d like to take a moment to officially welcome A.A. Balaskovits, who we are bringing on as the third editor of Cartridge Lit. She will be helming up new social media initiatives, reading submissions, doing the kind of outreach we haven’t even thought of before, and generally keeping the airship afloat with her supreme delegation skills, and we couldn’t be more thrilled to have her.
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.