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Great question. If I only had one video I could play it would be this.

Oh crap sorry! Extra Credits! Along with Heathcliff, I dedicate this story to the following people, in no particular order:

Ada Lovelace

Kurt Vonnegut

Bill Gates

Steve Jobs

Grace Hopper

Ray Kurzweil

Gabe Newell

Barack Obama

Michelle Obama

The Fam

Sunday, December 11, 2016

Issue : People : Obligation

OneShot is a game about the omniscience illusion.

From time to time I am a sherpa. Over the years the city I live in has been getting closer and closer to resembling actual civilization, which means more and more opportunity for tribes of paint spillers and noisemakers to mark it as a stop.

A homie from the Deutschland rolled through, she has one of those jobs where if you do it right every person, place, and thing but you gets famous and people openly wonder what you do all day. She said her crew had a day off before hitting the road and wanted an "off menu" tour of Sunny-D.

I immediately said no, because that is how I start all negotiations. Then she offered to pay for everything and I immediately said shit, which is how I end all negotiations. Not that I could have declined the offer even if I wanted to. Thing is, it wasn't really an offer but more of a friendly challenge.

It's one thing to create an advertisement or campaign over time in circle jerk, but can you create an experience in the moment tailored directly for a target market of a few? Do you know the people and the places and the things around you well enough to convince others to invest in them? Ok, you can rap, but can you freestyle? It's the debt of having friends in low places.

So in true D&D fashion, I meet the party outside the Observatory, they roll for initiative and the winner decides they want a drink. GG, if this town is good for anything these days, it's a drink. So I took them up the street for round one. They aren't video game people, but I have not yet in my lifetime met anyone who didn't enjoy the four-player Simpsons Coin-Op, sober or drunk, and I'm still waiting.

Folks from out of country only have one question for Americans these days, especially Americans that look like me, so I was relieved to get it over with when she pointed to the television,  motioned to me incredulously, and said, "Really? This guy?" I spun my index finger around the rim of my pint and said, "Yeah, that guy."

I said, "Ok, imagine you have this friend, you grew up with this person, there has been history with this person that goes back to before you were born, old wounds that aren't like to heal. The friend is obnoxious, mean at times, and says wild shit to people and more often than not you are embarrassed to be associated with them.

But over the years you fought, celebrated, and mourned with this friend and you know that beneath that anger is fear, and beneath the fear is hurt. When someone is hurt, they are willing to make a deal with whoever claims to understand their pain and promises to make the pain stop.

This is that jackass up there, you know he is mos def not your friend, he is the worst parts of your friend given corporeal form. And honestly I don't know how to stop the anger, combat the fear, to address the hurt. I don't know what happens next, but I will never give up on a friend, because I am all those things too, and I only exist now thanks to the people in my life that withstood the storm and never gave up on me. Maybe it's dumb, but I'm dumb."

She responded, "We had a person once."

The rest of the day was a blur, I swung them around Garnett to a beach adjacent dispensary that laughs if you pretend to have cataracts. We watched the one guy who could handle the breaks surf at Blacks because I'll be damned if my fat ass is getting in the water. I mean I could, obviously, but my leg has been acting up, no need to risk it.

We slithered into the Rock and Roll pub with a metal bike in the front to wind down, and then I took em to Skyline and showed them the majesty of a proper rolled taco, ensuring to remind them that they have to ask for green sauce and jalapeno's and carrots at the window, they won't just give them to you. Then it was time for them to load the bus and leave, remarking, "Hmm, San Diego, isn't bad." High praise.

I walked home, dropped my bag, and said hello to Rocket, who was crying in front of Boo's cubby hole bed. I placed my arm inside the hole, Boo's body was cold, looked like she was sleeping. I sat on the ground and Rocket and I stared into the hole all night. I felt if I moved, I would have to address this moment, this moment that comes sooner or later. I realized, we adopted Boo in Golden hill, not a few blocks that way.

She was a mess when we found her, mostly feral. But it was her, we knew that much. She hated plastic bags with a passion, wouldn't go near them, she had gold green eyes, she loved her space, but knew when you needed her, she drove me crazy, but she was loved, that was the best that I could do. So it goes.

Also JOBS.

The Protoculture Mixtape : Issue : Games :  Valhalla

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