2019-06-01_PC_Gamer

W

hatamI doinghere?

It’scold.It’slonely.

It’sboring.Ambient

noiseoffersthe

suggestionoflife,

butit mayaswellbeanillusion.

Thereisnothinghere.I accidentally

knocka sparelightbulboffa

nearbybookshelf.Ratherthan

smashitselfagainstthefloor– a

sharp,violentexclamationmark

punctuatingtheendlessellipsis

ofthisspace– it justfallsapart,

silentandtimid.

It’sWinteris a short,experimental

gameaboutthesolitarymalaiseof

livingina post-Sovietapartment

block.TheTVhasnoreception.The

radiois broken.Thereis nogoal,just

objectsandisolation,architecture

andsnow,andquiet,familiardread.

AtleastI havesomethingtodo

now.I pickupa shardofbroken

glassandcarryit overtothebinin

thekitchen.I gobackandretrieve

thenextshard.Andthenext.It

passesthetime.

Finished,I pickupthebinand

leavetheapartment.Downthestairs,

I findthegarbagedisposalchute.I’m

notreallysurehowtotipthe bin

over,soI flingit againstthewall,

emptyingthecontentsoverthe floor.

ThenI pickuptheindividual bits of

rubbishandplacetheminthe

hopper.Itpassesthetime.

I needn’thavebothered.The

stairsoftheapartmentarelittered

withdebris,fromsmashedplates to

multipleashtraysworthofcigarette

butts.I returnthenowempty bin to

itshomeunderthekitchensink.

Outside,a tractorpassesby.It drives

upanddowntheroad,itsorange

warninglightperiodicallypuncturing

thedarkness.I headoutsideto watch

it.Itdoesn’tacknowledgemy

presence.It’sanothersuggestion of

life.Anillusion.

BACHELORSAD

BackinsideI fryanegg.I microwave

a suspicioustubeofwhatmight be

meat.I attempttocutwhatI think is

a blockofcheddar,butgiveup after I

realisetheknifedoesn’twork.

I feelaloneandempty,which is

quiteanachievementbecause I’m

playingIt’sWinterinthemiddle of

Future’seditorialoffice.

It’sprettyloudinhere.

GamesRadaris havingstrong

opinionsaboutSekiro. Official

PlaystationMagazineis playing some

animegame.Buttheambient noise

feelslikeit’sjustthesuggestion of

life.Itmayaswellbeanillusion.

Me?I’veknockedoveranother

lightbulb,deliberatelythistime. It

passesthetime.

to cobble together the simoleans,we
also end up needing an urgent
extension to the hospital.

OUT OF OFFICE
Even once I’ve establishedan
equilibrium where almostnothingin
SNAFUville is on actualfire,people
still won’t stop nagging me.There’s
never enough suitable housingforthe
middle classes, my zoningmanager
gruffly informs me. Thepowerplant
manager keeps yelling atmeabout
brown-outs, although mywindfarm
is clearly generating a surfeitof
electricity. Commuters fumeover
traffic problems, and apparently
those are all my fault, too.
After enduring a spellofthis
ceaseless mithering, I walkaway.
Quite literally, I stand upandstep
away from the PC. I go offfora
shower and to stack somedirty
dishes, leaving the gamerunningat
full speed. If they’ve all gotsuchgood
ideas about how to run SNAFUville,
they clearly don’t need me,dothey?
Let them do it themselvesif they’re
such experts. I come back 20 minutes
later to find the town experiencing
major issues with power,zoningand
schools. As I am nothingif notpetty,
this provides more thana twingeof
vindictive schadenfreude.UntilI
notice that my mayoral approval
rating now stands at 78 percent...
eight percent up on the number
before my impromptu sabbatical.
They literally like me betterwhen
I’m not even there. Sigh.

PHILSAVAGE

THISMONTH

Tookoutthetrash

ALSOPLAYED

SeaofThieves,Babais You

WaitingoutthenightinIT’SWINTER

“I microwave a tube

of what may be meat”

Guess what? If you want power,

you’ve got to work for it!

THE GAMESWELOVERIGHTNOW

NOW PLAYING

This is the approval rating of a mayor A meal fit for a bachelor.

in absentia – irritatingly high.