P0LYBIUS

TIM0THY TUCKER

The day the new video game Polybius came out it swept through gaming circles like wildfire.

No one knows where it came from or who developed it, as it just seemed to have been spawned from the network of servers independent of outside influence like some pervasive meme. I was given a copy from a friend who got it off a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy, and even though I played it from the comfort of my basement, alone, I became lost. The more you play it the more challenging it becomes. It's one of those games that doesn't end but as you play it on and on and on again you can get pretty good.

I think I'm pretty good.

So far I am grinding up to eighteen hours on the game. My jaw is clenched tight as I guide abstract shapes through matrices of contours, vibrant colors pulse and coalesce into intense flares of light that explode across my television and burn directly into my irises. There is no soundtrack to the game, only a subtle yet incessant tone pitch that seems to reverberate in short iterations from everywhere at once.

After a while you learn to play through the fatigue, the hunger, the aching wrist, it all goes away until there is nothing left but the shapes and colors. There is no more room in my mind as my thoughts fluctuate to the rhythm of matrices and contours and when I close my eyes I am bombarded by the multicolored, multilayered perfusion of the antidream, for my waking hours have become the nightmare of black squares and red lines.

Sometimes I wonder what happened to my friends. I wonder what happened to my television. I wonder what happened to my basement. And then I realize that I can still hear the buzzing, like a swarm of distant hornets and I can still see the shapes clouding my peripheral vision.

And when the men in black come to take me away I play the game in my mind until my eyes become as empty as the farthest reaches of outer space.

GAME OVER