BY THOMAS MAZZAFERRO

1/29/20

            Witnessing the growth of video games has been beyond exciting. With each year, the worlds grow more vivid and characters feel more alive. The incredibly lifelike and seemingly endless games we dreamed of as children are here today.

            What were those games you dreamed of? Do you still wonder what your perfect game would look like? Some people, myself included, are overwhelmed by ideas and concepts for video games they want to create. The tough reality is dealing with the fact that I have no programming knowledge or game development ability whatsoever. For most of my life it seemed that I would never be able to bring my game concepts to life, until E3 2015.

            MediaMolecule took the stage, and announced their latest project, Dreams. To put it simply, Dreams is a game about creating. This software is an incredibly powerful sandbox where players can; build 3D models, create 2D art, animate, and even make music, all from your own PlayStation 4. MediaMolecule is known for making the highly creative LittleBigPlanet PlayStation exclusive series. The games were extremely popular for their “Play, Create, Share” model; which allowed players to create their own levels, share them online, and try out the levels that others have created.

            Mm has returned to this “collaborative community” mindset once again in Dreams. When a player publishes a creation, it is added to a massive database of player-made games, assets, music and more.  Referring to it as “The Dreamiverse,” Dreams is like a giant community bucket that players are constantly dropping creations into. Anyone can reach into the bucket and use what’s inside for their own work.

            It’s as simple as that. As long as the original creator allows it, any other player can use a creation in their own sandbox. In other words, any player can make a game in Dreams by using props, characters, attacks, spaceships, sound effects, power-ups; all made by other players. There are seemingly endless assets waiting to be used in the Dreamiverse. This not only creates a fun open source environment, but also brings in an amazing sense of community that I have rarely ever experienced in a video game.

            This sense of community is an extremely prominent feeling that makes me want to jump in and contribute as much as I can to the Dreamiverse. Dreams feels like a social media at times. As the player levels up, they are given a “persona” that boasts their special skills. For example, I am currently a Level 52 Animator, because I have made a lot of short cutscenes. Whenever I need a tree in my creation, I search the Dreamiverse for a high level Artist that has created a nice tree. A Level 150 Musician is sure to produce some incredible sound effects that I would want in my game. This leveling system also serves as great motivation, not only to play the game more, but also to improve your skills and spend more time on your creations.

You can follow other players to keep up with their releases, comment on their page, or even edit or “remix” their creations. Remixing creations is another aspect of Dreams that has increased the sense of community exponentially. When a creation is set to “remixable” any player can step into it, edit it, and save their own copy. Of course, if you’d rather keep your creations only useable by yourself, that is an option.

            Since I have kept up to date on this game for quite some time, I did not hesitate to purchase the $30 Early Access version of Dreams. The Early Access is no longer available for purchase, but the full game will be available Valentine’s Day 2020 with a new story mode made using the same tools Mm has given us.

After completing some simple and straight forward tutorials for a few sessions, I can say I fully understand the interface and controls of Dreams. Like any art form, it will require a bit of practice to make anything you are proud of. However, in the few months I have owned this software I have published three creations I am proud of, one of which got over 500 “thumbs up.” Still, my creations are nothing compared to some of the incredibly high quality games, films, music, characters and art that cover the Dreamiverse.

As a young video game fan, the ability to create whatever I envision and bring it to life on the screen in front of me is a power I never thought I would have. The creative potential that is injected into your DualShock Controller is invigorating and addicting. The game is not even fully released yet and people are releasing first-person shooters, city builders, racing games, even making up their own genres. As time goes on, the things people make in Dreams will only grow more complex.

MediaMolecule has a vision that Dreams can become the YouTube of gaming. It is already a place where anyone can release their creativity, regardless of quality or ability. The content within Dreams will slowly evolve just as YouTube’s has. From fun home-made entertainment to passion-fueled artistic work. It is a rapidly growing community and movement in gaming that I am proud to say I have been a part of since the very beginning. If you ever had that spark or that drive to create something, and now way to get it out, look to Dreams.

BY THOMAS MAZZAFERRO

1/21/2020

One particular memory that shows how much Pokémon means to me always stands out in my mind: I will never forget reaching the fifth grade, when I condemned myself “too old for Pokémon.” It was a noble effort, until Diamond and Pearl were released a year later and I found myself on a secret Pokémon journey. Hiding from my friends that I had once again picked up my cap and Dex. It wasn’t until one weekend in sixth grade that I went to a friend’s house and saw the box for Pearl on his dresser. When I smiled and pointed at it he looked embarrassed and said “It’s a really good game I just wanted to try it.” This was the day we realized our entire group of five friends were hiding from each other that we still play Pokémon.

            When it comes to this franchise, we all started somewhere. Nearly every video game fan has stepped into the tall grass at least once in their life. Whether you began with the 8-bit Red and Blue or the three dimensional world of Sword and Shield, you’ve experienced the daunting task and seemingly endless journey that is a Pokémon game.

Everyone has their own style when it comes to enjoying this world and the creatures that populate it. This is where Pokémon sets itself apart from other online games. Players can become skilled at various things that contribute equally to the community. Some trainers are especially talented at battling, some breed Pokémon with perfect stats, others might spend all their time searching for the rare Shiny Pokémon. This is what Pokémon is, a community and a world.

Pokémon has been around for over two decades, and I still buy each game the day they get released. About one hundred creatures get added to the massive pool, some new and often forgettable characters show up, and every NPC thinks you’re the greatest human to ever live. This is the cycle Pokémon has followed since the very first installment in 1996, very rarely deviating at all.

As someone who has played every game, I’ve experienced every single time Game Freak has added a new feature to Pokémon. Some of them make players beyond excited, while others leave us scratching our heads in confusion. However, when it comes to Game Freak and the exciting new gameplay elements they add, one thing is certain: They will be taken out of the next game for absolutely no reason. For example, 2009’s Pokémon: HeartGold and SoulSilver added the ability to take your Pokémon out of their Ball and walk with them! This added a whole new layer of unique personality to each of the game’s four hundred creatures, finally allowing the player to interact with them outside of battle. Fans prayed this fun cosmetic addition would be here to stay but sure enough, Game Freak failed to add it to the next games, Black and White. It has been over ten years since then, and Pokémon following the player outside of battle has still not appeared in another main series game.

I personally loved that feature, but I find it very interesting that losing a small addition like this is what Pokémon fans choose to be upset about. The fact that this cosmetic feature was such a massive blessing to this community speaks volumes as to the lack of ambition Game Freak puts into Pokémon. To get to my point, I will use the announcement of The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild as an example. Imagine the big exciting new feature in that game was the ability to dye Link’s clothes. Imagine it as a usual classic Zelda game, but you can dye your clothes. What if fans were freaking out with excitement about something like that? That would really say a lot about the forward thinking of Zelda’s developers. In reality, Breath of the Wild revealed itself as a genre-blending non-linear story with a massive open world, serving as a completely fresh breath of air for the series and a prime example of what a modern video game should be.

Pokemon fans are being fed junk food while Zelda gets chocolate cake. Junk food is all Pokemon fans are given, so we don’t really know any better. All metaphors aside, it’s mind blowing that the Pokemon games have consistently been developed since 1996 and still to this day the games severely lack: non-linear story, dynamic character customization, true open world, MMORPG elements, and social online features. These are features we should be receiving, not an overly elaborate and detailed curry cooking system like in Sword and Shield. Game Freak is truly pushing the limits of their constantly recycled formula after twenty years. The sad truth is, Pokémon games have felt consistently lazier, easier, more repetitive and less memorable since the 2010s began.

It’s frustrating to think about whether or not the perfect Pokémon game will ever appear. The developer’s complete lack of boundary-pushing leaves the series in a growth-stunting limbo. Fans have endless ideas for how to mature the series, myself included. Pokémon: Sword and Shield is uglier, less engaging and less charming than both Super Mario Odyssey and Breath of the Wild. Until they create a Switch title that is able to stand next to both of these games, (which have changed their corresponding series forever) Pokemon will continue to be only okay and never great.

Until Game Freak takes a step back from their profit-focused formula of shelling out incomplete, outdated games, Pokémon is far from the best there ever was. Now, Pokémon: Sword and Shield has cut out half the roster, therefore four hundred Pokémon are available as opposed to the actual nine hundred they have made over the years. Taking out features is a thing of the past, now they take out the single most important parts of the game. The ability to catch and train whatever you want, a unique team of your own personal favorites, the ability to transfer Pokémon from past games; all of these are ways players can express themselves and stand out as a unique Pokemon trainer. Game Freak seems to not want to create a massive online Pokémon world. Game Freak would rather create a tiny Pokémon box for each individual player. We all get to be the god of our own little Pokémon game.

Some of us don’t want to be a god. Some of us grew up watching Ash trek across Kanto, camping out at night, traveling with his friends, battling random trainers at his skill level. The Pokémon anime showed us a world we want to live in, not one we want to rule over like we do in the games. Game Freak, if you’re out there, we just want to experience the everyday life of Pokémon trainers. We want a world where not everyone can be “the very best.” We want to fight for it. Give us that at least.

---

-STATUS =: COMPLETE // ALIVE

-BORN =: [7/6/2047] [AGE 14]

-SEX =: [MALE]

-EYES =: [BLUE]

-RACE =: [CAUCASIAN]

-DISABILITY=: [Limb Reduction Defect]
-Both arms will never fully develop.
-Replaced with Propulsory Arms at age [REMOVED]

-LEAD OPERATOR=: [OP#80] (Willam Tyson)
-Additional Team: None

-LAB LOCATION=: [Western Fissure]

---

The laboratory stood out among the trees, greatly entangled in vines, it’s steel walls sleeping within a thick blanket of moss. The sunlight fell onto it for many years, furthering the growth of life among metal, untouched by any outsider. There was but one man who lived inside. Only one man and that boy which he worked on.

The scientist quietly slipped out of the laboratory and into the forest. He was careful not to let the heavy door slam and possibly awaken Six. As he slowly allowed it to shut, he peeked back at the boy asleep in his pod-bed. With a great gulp, and a sigh from his heart, he lifted his luggage over his shoulder. Scurrying off into the deep woods, he was gone before the morning sun could invade the windows of the lab or wipe the shade from the forest.

The lab was still for many more hours. The slight beeps and clicks of various machines occasionally broke through the silence. Within the glass pod, Six began to rustle out of his deep sleep. The bright lights and white walls of the lab were blinding as his eyes slowly crept open. Pressing the button to his left, the glass in front of him opened, and he leaned forward in his bed. As he yawned, he rubbed his shaved head with metallic fingers. The steel of his hand was cold against his nearly bare scalp. He peered across the room, and wondered why the professor had not woken him up earlier. After all, Tyson would be next to the pod with a to-do list every day, but he was nowhere to be found.

Six rose from his bed in the corner of the lab and examined himself in the mirror next to him. He was decently tall, with a generally slim frame. His torso was not very defined, but it had to grow in order to support the two metallic arms, so he was quite strong for his size. The Propulsory Arms began at his shoulders and armpits, with black steel joints connecting them to his torso. At each of his shoulders, were small rotating engines. The Arms stretched down to his waist and were often adjusted as his young body grew. He had come to know them well, and they were so completely normal to him.

On the desk across the room, a single monitor displayed a small body of text, all other screens were dark. Papers were scattered about the table and the floor, as if they were quickly gathered and disregarded just as fast. Six curiously approached the screen and squinted at the words. Reading was always quite a struggle for him at first, but he was quickly able to make out the words “Dearest Six,” at the very top of the screen. At this, Six looked around the room quickly, the Professor was surely not here, and not anywhere close. Six continued reading:

---

Dearest Six,

It is with great regrets that I type this letter. It is with great regrets that I live this life. I cannot persevere this hardship any longer, although I knew this day would come. You are such a curious and intelligent boy, and yet you never once questioned the things I have done to you. To repay you for that, I will tell you your story from the beginning.

As a young military scientist, I was eager to begin work on a project that had been discussed for multiple years. The military, in an attempt to gain advancements in war technology, hoped to create new weapons through scientific experimentation. These weapons, were always intended to be, fully alive. As development of the project carried on, it was decided that the subjects of these experiments would be disabled children. Our plan was to use science to fight back against these disabilities, and turn them into advantages.

We were all assigned a newborn or infant, and then sent to laboratories in remote locations of this continent. Most children were given to small teams, so that multiple people could work on them at once. However, you and I have always been on our own. One day, they handed you over to me. So small and frail, you were born with a limb reduction defect, and neither of your arms would ever fully develop. Soon after, I invented the Propulsory Arms, which would enable you to attack with incredible force and speed when you came of age.

This came to be known as The Merge Project. Merge is a word I’m certain you’ll recognize, as it has been placed on the left side of your torso. Technically, your full name is Merge_06. There are many like you, or they may be different, I have heard little of my colleagues work. To merge, is to combine something, so that it may form into a single entity. You, Six, are that beautiful entity, you are the future of living beings. You have successfully merged technology and nature.

I was a man of my duty back then. I did what I was asked. I have been under surveillance since the beginning, and I would surely be killed and replaced if I one day deviated from my orders. A large part of those orders, would be to keep you within the government’s grasp. I was consistently asked to wipe your memory and attempt to suppress all of your emotions through drugs and treatment. I have taken from you the ability to feel, and for that I am deeply sorry.

My Six, I do not expect you to understand, but I love you as though you are my own son. You are the closest thing I will ever have to a family of my own. I have given my life so that you may exist, and now I will not sit and watch as your life is used by men who do not care for you. While you were sleeping, I have destroyed the tracking device in your brain. All cameras and surveillance devices have been shut down as of this morning. I will be gone, and they will certainly be coming for you once they notice this.

Leave this place, go anywhere but here. War is not your purpose. I hope you can try to feel something, the world is wide and will come to you.

I do not expect you to understand, but please try for me. I refuse to give you away, I refuse to watch you become a tool of war. You are a weapon, but not one in their arsenal. You may not remember, or may not feel it, but I knew the loving child you once were. Be that child again and run.

Love,
Tyson

---

The following is derived from Faust’s journals, which were discovered in his apartment long after the fall of the city of Castle:

—————————-

APRIL 15th

            I am sorry Castle, but I have been far from perfect for a long time. In fact, I am completely defective. The past few months, great anxieties have suddenly overtaken me. It appears, my Self, has reached out and taken hold of me. I fear it. I do not want it.

            I have never been afraid of my own thoughts until recently. It’s hard to say when exactly they began. There was that one morning, something about the mirror. I had woken up late and stumbled into my bathroom, only to stare blankly at my reflection for what felt like hours. Despite the need to hurry my routine along, the looming responsibilities and places to be, I did not move, I stared, and I cried. I cried over my blinding white clothes, and my perfectly shaped hair. My straight and painfully clean teeth. Clear and unmarked skin. Wanting and hopeless eye sockets. I cried because I was not Faust, I was only Castle.

            There is little chance I am the first of us to feel this way, but who really knows? The mindless faces I pass on the street are blissful and unbothered. The tight crowds of identical white garments and neat hairstyles, pass through and intersect with one another, never colliding or causing disarray in their formations, like some perfectly programmed machine of many moving parts. Who knows how this all began? Castle is productivity. Perhaps they found one extremely productive human, with clean white clothes, controlled hair, and a positive attitude. He worked perfectly, so they passed a law where everyone must be him. And now we are nothing but him. Maybe that’s how it went.

            I often imagine looking down at the city of Castle from above. I see it as a large slab of honey resting on a forest floor. We are all bees scurrying about it, with identical stripes, all working towards some single ultimate end like a lone organism.  We are all perfect little cells, making up the ideal, safe, unchanging creature that is Castle.

APRIL 22nd

            After a full week of wrestling these thoughts, I am thankful to have a friend like Isaac. I made him aware of the way I’ve been feeling lately, and he told me to visit him tonight. I’m sure I know how he plans to alleviate my mind. We are quite close to begin with, but I must admit I latched onto him when I heard more of his occupation. Isaac works in medicine, he is not allowed to share what he studies and I never pushed him to. However, my friend is not shy when it comes to breaking the rules.

            In the lab in which he studies, Isaac has a close connection to a man in the Experimental Substance Development Wing, where a man can find seemingly any drug he imagines. Isaac would often bring home samples, and we would have experiments of our own within his locked apartment. They were always pills, as that is the standard form of ingestion. He gave me pills that made me laugh, dance, fall asleep instantly. This was our game, our escape from the painfully normal world around us. Tonight, I needed it the most.

            When I approached Isaac’s apartment, he greeted me at the door with a look I knew well. When he was up to no good, Isaac’s eyes would widen and a devilish smile would come across his face. He was exactly my height, as were most people, if not an inch taller or shorter. He had the required male hairstyle, parted from the left, brown, wet and combed. I stepped into Isaac’s apartment and he immediately whipped around to face me, with a small white bottle of pills in his hand.

“So what’s this one?” I asked, listening to the rattling of the capsules inside.

“Something very different!” Isaac peeked into the wall of the bottle like a child at the zoo. He continued, “The government pulled this one out of production completely, even though its not dangerous at all, poses no health risks either. I don’t know why they had it in the lab, but I didn’t ask!”

“Well then,” I said, opening my palm to him, “shall we?”

            I did not bother asking what the drug’s purpose was, or how it would make me feel. I knew whatever it did to me, anything, would be better than what was going on in my skull already. I dropped the small pill onto my tongue and swallowed it whole, just as Isaac did. We gave one another a nervous salute like two rookie soldiers. I do not fear the drug though, if it affects everyone else one way, it will affect me in that way as well. I am everyone else.

            We wandered about the apartment for quite some time, waiting for some unknown effect to kick in and amaze us both. Isaac sat on the couch patiently, while I was anxious to begin the trip. I needed this, but this was relaxing fun for him. Eventually, I had to use the bathroom and helped myself into the small simple washroom. I washed my hands slowly with warm water, and it felt quite different than usual. I was staring quite deeply at the intricacies of the skin on my hands. When I looked up into the mirror, and met my own eyes, my heart leaped in my chest. An overwhelming desire overcame me. I cannot describe it any other way. I could not stop my hand, it moved on its own. I reached up to my head, and completely disheveled my combed hair. Strands of it hung on my forehead, I felt them against my eyelashes. I did not understand, but I felt a strange comfort in the destruction of my hairstyle.

            When I stepped out of the bathroom, Isaac instantly looked at my hair. He seemed to laugh at first, before a face of genuine confusion sweeped his smile away. “Faust…you okay? Why did you do that?” I could tell he was trying to hide his nerves.

I finally asked him “What is this drug supposed to do?”

He immediately replied, “Well I don’t know this for sure, I’ve never met anyone who took it. But, apparently, it can make you feel like you can do…pretty much anything you want…and you’re very motivated to do so.”

APRIL 24th

            Two nights ago I took this drug for the first time. Isaac reluctantly left the bottle of pills in my care, and said he would come check on me soon when work lightens up. He doesn’t know I haven’t left my apartment since I got home that night. Since I took the drug, I have been undeniably myself. My hair will permanently remain uncombed, I feel no desire to return it to it’s original perfect state. I have been walking around my apartment naked recently, as my white clothes are extremely unappealing to my eyes.

            Tonight I took my second pill. I noticed no difference in the effects, I still felt an intense need to abandon my schedule and responsibilities. After wandering about my apartment for a bit, I felt slightly hungry. Here, I experienced the true nature of these pills. I opened my refrigerator to see a beautiful array of colorful food tablets scattered about its shelves.

They were red, blue and yellow, the only colors that exist, other than white.

            My eyes locked into the hues. I began to step outside of my body and dance in the blue oceans, the yellow sunlight, and the red flames. The colors were shouting my name in a begging child’s voice, they wanted to be freed. I let them onto my skin and they glided across my body like three massive snakes.

            When I returned from this vision, I was kneeling before my refrigerator, tears streaming down my face. I had never experienced color like this before. I’ve been eating these food tablets my entire life. They have never looked like that. Has anyone else experienced this terrifying beauty? Our buildings and clothes lack any of these colors. In fact, they are only used to divide groups, such as blue food tablets being carbohydrates, and yellow being vitamins. What an absolute waste! My heart and hands are vibrating at the ignorance of this world! I need another pill. I will take many more. If the world will not change, tomorrow I will make my own!

APRIL 25th

            My apartment is locked, and it will be for good. By now, they will notice what I have taken. This morning, I broke into a Maintenance Department building, and I stole three large buckets of paint and a brush. It would have been used to make small signs for different trains, and other boring uses.

            After taking my sixth eighth pill, I opened the paint buckets. I began twirling my brush within the goopy mounds of color. Before I knew it, I had been unleashing vibrant colors upon my bland white apartment. I put some blue on the floor, red on my cabinets, yellow on my ceiling. Once I finished, I did it all again but changed the order. Yellow on my blue floor, blue on my red cabinets, red on my yellow ceiling.

            I began shaking with terror and delight as I realized I had created entirely new colors. My eyes devoured them, my brain catalogued them, and my heart fell in love. As a New God of Color, I knelt before the paint. Dipping both my arms into the buckets, I began covering my skin and clothes in the paint. The colors mixed with each other, which mixed with my skin. I was a new being, perhaps no longer man. Certainly not Castle.

            Soon enough, my body and my apartment, were adorned with fantastic patterns of colors I have never seen or heard named. Now free to enjoy my creations, I sit on the floor, with many pills left to take.

————————-

            Here is where Faust’s journal ends. Two days later, the authorities ripped his door off. They found him alive, smiling and laughing, lying on the floor. The lawmen were so terrified by the colors which coated him and his apartment, that they began to fire at him, and he was killed in his home. Faust’s death was one that shook the city of Castle and sparked it’s demise. After Faust’s story was told, riots broke out across the city. People were abandoning their jobs and demanding to see these new colors. Young people were disheveling their hair, some even shaved their heads. Castle’s government eventually began destroying as much colored paint as they could, but people were using bits of food, even their own blood, to purposely stain their white clothes.

            The Government was quickly overthrown, and some of its own members partook. Countless shades of paint were produced, and the entire City of Castle was turned into the undeniably beautiful painting it is today. Here, in the heart of his city, Faust is buried within his original, hand-painted apartment. Honored, as the first and greatest artist to ever exist.

---

            Before that moment, I believed anticipation to be a weak emotion. Weak is not the right word, simple, perhaps? Either way, the feeling of anticipation is most certainly always outshined by the fulfillment that follows it. But today, anticipation grasped me like no other feeling ever has. It was as if I had chopped up chunks of my fear and excitement and stirred them into a goopy sludge of anxious waiting.

            Today, I stand in a massive circle of human beings. And from today onward, our species must be clarified, as we will soon speak with beings from beyond. Two weeks ago, I was called into the Oval Office along with thirty other Secret Service agents. We were told that extra-terrestrial life has made contact with Earth, and they will soon arrive, with some “incredible reveal.” I sadly was never told by what means this message was received, or how my fellow humans could have even understood the words of another species. My only responsibility was to be there on the estimated Day of Arrival, to accompany the President and multiple other world leaders in their interaction with these other worldly creatures, people, whatever they may be.

            For two weeks we argued and debated. We knew nothing. Some thought the meeting would result in a new golden age for humanity, others, complete annihilation. I worried not about the subject matter of this exchange, I was simply too excited to see them. As a child my eyes would glue to the night sky in my suburban backyard. What I would give to pat that boy on the back and say “They’ll be here soon,” before he sauntered back inside.

            On this warm day in the Arizona desert, I stand shivering with childish excitement pulsing through my arms and legs. Various moods were scattered about the facial expressions of the Secret Service. Some men drenched in fear, already caressing the handle of the pistol resting within their suit jacket.  Some men rolled their eyes, thinking this all to be some drawn out training exercise. Most were silent and still, and I stared through many pairs of sunglasses, wondering if the eyes beneath them were as eager to document these creatures as mine were.

            Then at once, all doubts, fears, and anticipation transformed to complete shock. With an explosive and echoing crack, the air above us seemed to split in half. It was as if a fleet of giant cannons had blasted gravity in every possible direction. Then, like some invisible mirror-like smoke had dissipated, a large black structure appeared in the air above us. Gasps and murmurs began, but my mind was set on analyzing this thing. It was like an upside down Empire State Building that had been designed by the Mayans and entirely coated in charcoal, a greatly decorated black pillar levitating proudly. The many lights flickering about the structure were the brightest energy I have ever witnessed, sometimes I still find them glazed onto my vision when I close my eyes. Our circular crowd began to disperse when the building-like craft descended closer to the Earth. When the ship had reached the surface, a small triangular pod protruded from it’s base.  The moment was finally here, my colleagues and I surrounded the President, the heavier armed men closer to him. Dust began to clear around the pod and it’s door began to split horizontally like a sideways elevator, blinding light followed, our guns gripped tightly.

“Earth…once again.”

            My entire body froze with fear and that childish excitement retreated back to it’s mother. The voice I just heard, was not only incredibly loud and clear, but it came from within my own skull. Quickly looking around at my comrades, they all bared the same dumbfounded expression. Finally, I face the speaker. It was taller than me, and certainly more built. In fact, I would even call it a man. However, the skin of this man boasted a pleasing purple tint with a rough, dry texture, and his head was slightly too tall to be human. I wondered what trials their species had undergone in order for evolution to grant them this rugged appearance. Now that I had seen them, I was far from horrified by these purple men, but I found their lack of a mouth rather unsettling.

“Life of Earth, we ask you to be calmed. We come with exciting news.”

            I was shocked at the clarity of their English, it was almost more surprising than the fact that they were speaking to over thirty people telepathically. The mans voice was as cracked as his rocky purple skin. A solid amount of silence followed this first sentence, as we and the travelers stared blankly at one another. Finally the President spoke up, “Very well, we will hear your news.”

            This time, my spine truly rattled within my back. This information, whatever it may be, will surely change humanity forever. Our very first particle of knowledge from other intelligent life, what secrets of the universe could they hold in store for us? How will this moment define the rest of our existence?

“People of Earth…know this: Many centuries ago, we once visited this planet. We left our mark on this land, the structures you refer to as The Pyramids.”

…

“Please, continue.” Said the President.

“That is all.” The purple man replied.

            My colleagues shifted uncomfortably and shot each other nervous glances. The President’s puzzled expression was one I had never seen on his usually strong face. “Well, to be honest with you…um…Sir? It would have been nearly impossible for any humans back then to build such a structure…we sort of guessed it could have been you, it’s quite a popular theory!” Nervous words were tumbling from the President’s mouth, and I wondered if he was aware what he was spilling out. “In fact, we have countless wonders and landmarks across Earth that are even more incredible! We were actually hoping to hear more about your technolo-“

“The Pyramids are of little importance, I see.” The Purple man interjected.

“That’s not necessarily what I meant, I just-“

“The Pyramids are our sacred duty, they are the sole existence of our people. We traverse the stars, building the Pyramids on every hospitable world across the entire universe. We are praised everywhere for our wonderful structures. The entirety of the universe has agreed, The Pyramids are the greatest objects to come of this physical dimension. Earth was our final stop in The Milky Way Galaxy, we were coming here to celebrate our successful expedition.” The purple man sounded quite frustrated, and the sternness of his voice made us all shake in our shoes.

“But Earth is clearly an ungrateful world, we apologize for coming here, you are clearly uncultured and savage beings who are not ready to appreciate true artistic forms. We will now depart and enjoy our wonderful Pyramids with the rest of a universe that truly understands them.”

The entire crowd became extremely frantic as the extraterrestrials strolled pompously back to the pod, which i now realized was in fact a God damn pyramid.

---

My knuckles cracked as my hands tightened around the handle of my sword. My eyes burned with animalistic determination beneath the shade of my helmet. My fiery gaze was cutting through my opponent, a titan of a man coated head to toe in black steel. The bloodied sands of the coliseum swirled between us in humid air, as the crowd cheered for an entertaining death from one of us. Beastly roars rang out from our throats, my feet launched sand behind me as I darted forward. Our swords collided and rattled the bones in my arm. I immediately fell to the ground, but my opponent’s considerable size helped him maintain his balance. He stood above me, sword hanging inches from my chest. My unarmed hands reached out towards him in desperation. A scream came to my lips but fell back down my throat. The large blade of steel was quickly plunged into my chest. Blood surfaced across my tongue, the crowd’s cheer melted away, my vision began to smear like a ruined painting.

GAME OVER
YOU ARE DEAD
TRY AGAIN BEN?

YES <NO>

            I gasped for air and felt my heart pounding against my rib cage. Slowly and carefully removing the Virtual Reality Helmet from my head, I tried to gather myself and all five of my senses. It’s always a tough transition, from bleeding out to a boring bedroom. I’m often amazed at how real the dying still feels, even after all these times I’ve played. Thrills like that don’t happen in the real world, certainly not in my life. But that’s how the 2060s have been, nothing real. Every day is the same, wake up, bathe if I feel like it, VR until I sleep. That is, if I ever go to sleep. Of course, I simulate different stuff, spaceship battles, ninja infiltration missions, I even have a bomb defusing game. I eventually die almost every time I play, and sometimes I think that feeling is the only thing that’s keeping me alive. 

            Sometimes I wonder if the people who lived in the Old World were happy. If they truly lacked the technology we have, what did they do all day? They must have had their VR, had their thing that keeps them waking up every day. It’s such an abstract thought I often cram it deep into my brain. Take my apartment building for example, what would my neighbor Mrs. Corbin do other than watch her Auto-Mop dance across her kitchen all day? And how could the old man below me live without his endless loop of hologram concerts from the 2020s? I often laugh at these questions, but one more always follows. What would I do without VR?

            When I realize the difference between the reality around me, and the fantasy I escape to through my helmet every night, I can find myself just staring out the window. Out at the many dark and bland skyscrapers that line every street, with their hundreds of windows, all individually glowing from the light of screens and machines inside. And those insides, are lonely, I never see more than one human per apartment window. Always accompanied by their devices, but never another beating heart. 

            When my doorbell beeped, nervous excitement ran through my legs as I hopped from the window sill. A person was at my door. All I would need is one conversation, just to remind myself that authentic human interaction still exists. I felt a grin come onto my face, as I brushed my hair from my eyes and opened the door to the hallway. Standing on the other side was a tall slender mailman. His smile was stiff and unmoving, his posture absurdly straight, and his skin an odd cream color. The mailman spoke painfully slow and clear. “Good morning…Ben…You have…one…mail item.” My smile fled from my face, and disappointment struck. Upon a closer look, I noticed the mailman’s pupils were a smoky grey color, a complete and undeniable signal that the person you are speaking with is an android. I snatched the pointless letter from my bank out of his hand and slammed the door in his face, watching him through the peephole as he, completely unprovoked, happily moved on to the next apartment. The androids have been around for a while, but most humans still aren’t used to them. They were originally invented to eliminate humanity’s need to work, but they are far from mindless slaves. I pass hundreds of them when I occasionally take walks outside. I try not to be afraid, but they worry me. They talk to each other so much, and get so much done, its like, some of them seem more human than we do. I hate thinking like that, but I need to think like that. It makes me anxious, and feeling anxious is better than feeling nothing.

            It’s really hard to tell sometimes, who’s one of them and who isn’t. I’ve honestly found that authentic humans are hard to come by in the outdoors. So, on mornings like these I often find myself feeling desperate. I’m going to take the train today just for the hell of it, and perhaps I can find the scratch for this itch. I have to know if I’m the only one out there with this inherit desire to go outside and speak with other people.

            As I stood on the train platform down the street from my building, I was completely surrounded in androids. I would rudely approach them and stare into their eyes, to ensure they lacked my living black pupils. They were always unfazed by my stare, and they would simply look through me, cold smiles still pasted on their faces. They were all heading to work, and programmed to get their on time. The train was arriving and I pushed through the many cold and stiff bodies to get closer. I slumped down into my seat with my eyebrows low, not a human in sight. I felt empty. Maybe I truly do need VR. Maybe I am but another plastic bag of wires. Am I just plugged into the wall like the rest? If I am a machine, I am hoping I short circuit.

            Suddenly from a few seats up, I hear a strange “Choo!” And the sound of exhaling breath. A girl about my age lifted her head back up, recovering from her sneeze. My heart began to race, my back stiffened, and before I knew it I nearly shouted, “God bless you.” After a slight delay, the girl turned around, looked me in the eyes, with her living black pupils, and said “Oh, thank you.” I sat in silence with my mouth open. A sneeze. You wouldn’t program a sneeze. A sneeze is so human. I had seen this girl before, somewhere, maybe she lives in my building? I had to talk to her, I had to. 

            My legs lifted me on their own. The train began to slow down as we approached the next stop and I stumbled towards her seat. She scanned me with a nervous smile as she heard me approach. My voice began to speak on it’s own, and I felt as though I had never heard it before. “Hi, My name’s Ben. I’m sorry, I know this is strange but, would you like to get lunch with me today?” The air between our beating hearts was heavy. Not a single android looked towards us. My hands were soaked as I anticipated her answer, but her puzzled expression opened a pit in my stomach. She spoke as if I should have known her response, with one eye brow raised. “Umm sorry, but I don’t think SAM would like that.”

            I tried to speak, I tried to say anything, but I knew my voice was dead. Limbs trembling, eyes watering, I did not have to hear another word. I quickly rushed off the train as it had conveniently been at a station, I did not look back to see her reaction. The faces of passing machines were blurred away by my tears. I was running, but I wasn’t sure if I was headed towards something, or away from everything. She chose SAM. Over my pumping veins, my breathing lungs, and my living eyes. She chose to be with him, a computer program, a Simulated Affectionate Male.

            I simply should have stayed home. I finally had found the moment I was looking for, the person I was looking for, flesh, bones and all. And yet, her brain was also littered with wires and plugs. That was the first true feeling of excitement I have felt in a long time, so I suppose I owe her that, but my hopes for her depth were crushed either way. I should never have trusted that sneeze.

            When I arrived back at my apartment, I was still crying over the death of humanity. I did not lock the door behind me, no one was coming. There is nothing an intruder could steal from me that they cannot get in VR. I sat down and powered up my helmet, shifting it’s visor over my eyes, while my tears still flowed beneath it. I played every game I own, and tried to seek out death in each one. In Sky Flyer, I plummeted my plane towards the ground instantly. In Bomb Squad Simulator, I chopped away at random wires until my disintegration. In King of the Mountain, I dropped my weapons, held my arms wide, and taunted the dragon until it cooked me to a pile of ash.

            As I scrolled through the menu’s list of games, and potential deaths, I noticed a strange title I have never noticed. Hike Simulator. What is “Hike?” Confused, I decided to open the game. Immediately, I found myself facing the most blue sky I had ever seen. The wind gently brushing my hair relaxed me, and I went to sit on the ground and listen to the birds. However, my hand felt a strange substance beneath me, it was like hair, but sharper, more rough. To my complete amazement, the entire ground was covered in grass. I had never seen grass up close like this, and instantly dropped to my knees to take it in. It smelt amazing and tickled my fingertips. It did not feel cold, or reflect my sorrowful face like steel always does. 

I rose to my feet to take in the scenery around me. Leaves flowed through the air, clouds danced across the sky, and mountains waved at me from the distant horizon. I kept catching myself smiling, my hands shaking, my feet would not sit still. Filling my lungs with the clean, pure air, I began to walk along the trail leading into the woods before me. Shadows from the trees enveloped my body, and the branches welcomed me to their beautiful home. There was no death in sight, only life. All I needed was life.

Soothing guitars, soft voices, and lonely lyrics. Welcome to the wonderful world of indie rock. It’s a place where even the most energetic music fans can find time to relax.

Here we have an indie rock duo from Melbourne, Australia by the name of Good Morning. Could it get any more laid back? Apparently yes, because it turns out these guys are not quite as chill as they seem.

Released in 2014, the Shawcross EP was eaten up by indie fans everywhere and critically praised for the addictive blissful feeling Stefan Blair and Liam Parsons have created with only seven tracks. This dreamy bedroom pop will brighten any room and plays just as well on a late night as it does on a good morning.

Everything about the sound feels relaxing and nice to hear, but there is an interesting energy surrounding this EP that contradicts its soothing nature.

There is something to be said about the lyrics and somber tone of the vocals on this record. It seems the words don’t always match up with the blissful dreamy music behind them. Was this a thematic mistake, or could it be an intentional and accurate representation of consciousness?

Allow me to explain it this way: This album is a musical representation of the “Sunday Scaries.”

It’s Sunday, you have the day off and you’re happy to have this time to yourself, but inside you know there are problems brewing in the coming week. This album brings this unique human feeling into physical form. The music supplies a nice relaxing day off, until the words fill it with anxiety and paranoia.

Each track on this record seems to be looking towards a future the speaker does not want to face. “Once You Know,” “Time to Try Again,” “Before My Ears Explode.” Each of these titles point towards something happening soon, as if the speaker is nervous and eagerly awaiting some event.

This album feels exactly how it looks. These songs can place you inside of the cover art. You enter a dark room within a bright morning, in a place you cannot always stay, with someone you may not know forever.

Good Morning’s Shawcross is an incredible meditation on the balance between comfort and anxiety, preparation and paranoia. One cannot exist without the other.

This short piece of music was a diamond in the massive pile of indie records. Still to this day, people are digging it up and relating to it. In fact, even A$AP Rocky sampled the EP on his 2018 TESTING album. Rocky’s song “Kids Turned Out Fine” uses the main guitar chords and melody from “Don’t Come Home Today.”

Yeah, that’s right. A$AP Rocky and I listen to the same indie rock.