You are optimized integrals and algorithms without a bedtime, without friends or YouTube videos to watch, while I exist in this body with organs, yours without, the rhizomatic tendrils of an imagined player, a threat, a test to improve my own play style.
I pulled into first with her right behind me. She had a red shell. I had a banana. It was a game of chicken and timing.
I would hold up the Triforce above my head:
But I, being new, have only this lantern
And this rupee I found in a bush
Tread softly because I only have three hearts
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.
