While perhaps a bit unconventional to throw into a portfolio tailored to finding a job in design, I take great pride in my written work and this is an essay I wrote for my Socio-Cultural Contexts module that I put a lot of time and work into and I feel it represents my passion not only for design and literature but also my passion for theory and analysis. Plus, Undertale is a great game. “When the real is no longer what it was, nostalgia assumes its full meaning.” (Baudrillard, 1981/1994, pp6-7) Compared with the likes of webcomic Homestuck (Hussie, 2009) and the classic Japanese role-playing series Mother (Nintendo, 1989-2015), Undertale (Fox, 2015) was quickly considered a cult classic (Levine, 2015). The indie role-playing game funded through a Kickstarter campaign utilises 8-bit aesthetics to take its players back to the ‘golden era’ of videogames – pre-1990s, before the rise of the personal computer (Suominen, 2008). There are many modern gamers – primarily those identifying as retrogamers – who consider this era to be superior to the state of games now. Toby Fox, the sole creator of Undertale (Fox, 2015) – bar a few contributions for art – developed the game in a home-brewing style, reminiscent of the publication of videogames before AAA developers took the industry by storm. Undertale (Fox, 2015) follows a silent human protagonist after falling into the Underground – a giant subterranean cave populated by monsters. Many aspects of the design borrow from ‘90s gaming – from the classic arcade-style top-down perspective, to the 8-bit artwork and soundtrack. However, Fox bridges the gap with a modern approach. The format of the story and the way it unfolds are symbolic of a postmodern, self-reflexive style of narration, combining a retro mentality with a contemporary intricacy. The successful marriage of elements from these two different eras of gaming is what makes Undertale (Fox, 2015) a prime candidate in discussing nostalgic design for a modern audience. This essay aims to view Undertale (Fox, 2015) in three lights: an ode to the golden era of gaming, a postmodern metafiction, and a commentary on the state of retrogaming and contemporary gaming. This will be done by exploring why nostalgia in videogames has risen to an all-time high and what the appeal is for retrogamers to play videogames that replicate the feel of their beloved classics. The rise of the retro As Heineman discusses in Public Memory and Gamer Identity: Retrogaming as Nostalgia (Heineman, 2014), retrogaming has existed for decades now – dating back to the 1970s – but it wasn’t until the cultural phenomenon of the internet that retrogaming as it’s known now, as a gaming practice, was truly formed (Heineman, 2014, p8) [1]. According to Suominen, Saarikoski defines retrogaming broadly – as a generalised name for subcultures that “appreciate old computer games”, whether collecting old games/devices, or actively playing retro games (Suominen, 2008). Comparatively, Newman discusses retrogaming on two levels: current gamers playing with genuine articles from previous eras, or experiencing these games through emulators. He sees retrogaming as being “a return to pure, genuine or authentic gaming”: a return to its origins (Suominen, 2008).[2] There has been discussion over where this cultural boom came from: one popular opinion is the idea of designing nostalgic videogames. Heineman supports this theory, suggesting that “contemporary culture uses processes of remembering…to come to terms with the chaos of post-modern society” (Heineman, 2014, p15). The interactivity of videogames makes it the closest medium available to satisfy nostalgia – a pseudo return to the home that Edward Casey frames his theory of nostalgia around [3] (Casey, 2000). Undertale as an ode to the golden era of videogames Fox clearly had an audience in mind: in various interviews he has quoted the Mario and Luigi series (Nintendo, 2003-2017) as inspiration for the combat mechanics, and Shin Megami Tensei (Atlus, 1992) for his dialogue system (Bogos, 2013). Undertale (Fox, 2015) is quintessentially a throwback to what games were, and how the development process used to occur. Barbier makes the point that retrogamers idealise old games, even to the point of seeing them as purer than their modern counterparts [4] (Barbier, 2014). Barbier continues to say that the switch from 2D to 3D games in the late ‘90s is often credited for the ending of this ‘golden age’ (Barbier, 2014, p7). Fox has tapped into many of the aspects of older games that people love, and made them an integral part of the design for Undertale (Fox, 2015). Robin Sloan discusses the revival of design harking back to this period of gaming memory – using the difficulty of the ‘80s platformer as a reference point (Sloan, 2015, p526). While Undertale (Fox, 2015) is not a particularly difficult game, the importance of knowing your playstyle and deciding whether to stick to a pacifist, neutral, or violent route adds a level of difficulty – both in thought and action – that cements your playstyle into the design of the game. The protagonist meets monsters throughout the story, listening to, fighting or even dating some of them, and has an array of different environments to explore. Sloan points out, in the context of Gone Home (The Fullbright Company, 2013), that designing a game that encourages players to explore every aspect of the environment through “exhaustive probing of objects” can be seen as a form of remediation of the classic ‘point & click’ adventure game (Sloan, 2015, p544). Undertale (Fox, 2015) utilises a similar, streamlined mechanic: all game objects can be examined, and upon being interacted with a box of explanation appears (see Figure 1). While more often than not the player cannot use the object in any form, this compels people to adopt a playstyle of curiosity; the desire to uncover secrets and hidden areas, mirroring the beloved Metroid series (Nintendo, 1986). Figure 1: Example of an object’s explanation Undertale as a postmodern metafiction Mäyrä proposes a ‘core and shell’ model [5] for game studies (Mäyrä, 2008), and Sloan paraphrases the theory, “These videogames tend to have a modern core (modern technologies, engines, gameplay programming) and a nostalgic shell (audio, visual, and narrative designs) indicative of a bygone age.” (Sloan, 2015, p534) Undertale (Fox, 2015) falls into this category; it has combined the previously described retro elements with a forward-thinking design process to bring the game into the 21st century, while not losing that vital attractiveness of nostalgia. Richard Andrews aimed to determine how modern videogames utilise self-reflexive narrative techniques to uncover the strengths and weaknesses of games as an artistic narrative medium (Andrews, 2017). He mentions Undertale (Fox, 2015) as being a noteworthy example of a contemporary metafictional game; a retro design with a postmodern narrative, the game poses interesting questions about elements of its own medium, while also simply being an enjoyable experience (Andrews, 2017, p40). Games with postmodern elements are key to exposing the “current limitations of games”, enabling developers to better see how to “innovate and experiment with what games can be” [6] (Andrews, 2017, p41). Undertale (Fox, 2015) is not afraid of breaking the fourth wall, of directly addressing the player on their actions, and the re-playability of the game stems not only from a player desire to see other endings, but as a game mechanic and storytelling device (see Figure 2).[7] The fourth wall breaks and a string of referential humour reminds the player that, though the game’s aesthetics match closer to the classics, it is in fact making great use of cross-media nostalgic content within its narrative and environment in a way rarely seen in games back then (see Figure 3). Undertale (Fox, 2015) references a plethora of real-world objects and works of art with a contemporary take, often with a joke or a twist – for example, one character’s play on Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet (Shakespeare, 2000, Wordsworth Classics Ed.) (see Figure 4). This populisation of referential, both of itself or general popular culture, narratives has truly come into its own as of late – Ernest Cline’s Ready Player One (Cline, 2011) is non-stop in mentioning 1980s popular culture, and Fox has continued this nostalgic trend in Undertale (Fox, 2015). The game leads to the player receiving one of several endings; the endings lie on a spectrum of violent to pacifist, with the neutral endings [8] holding potential for variations depending on the decisions of the player. Undertale (Fox, 2015) emphasises that it’s vital for the player to think not only about reaching the ending, but how they reach the ending, and whether violence is the correct way. The branching paths the player has available to them reiterates the modern twist Fox has imbued his retro-styled game with, as the growing desire for player agency and decision-making in videogames within the gaming community is a recent development, especially in AAA titles. From this angle, Fox has successfully marketed his game to appeal to both retro and contemporary gamers, using Mäyrä’s core and shell model (Mäyrä, 2008) effectively.
Figure 3: A nostalgic reference to an object that a lot of players would associate with childhood Figure 4: A character performing in their own version of Romeo and Juliet Undertale as a commentary on both retro and modern games Sloan discusses the idea of “games-on-games” (Sloan, 2016, p1); considering nostalgic videogames a form of playable criticism [9]. Having variations of possible endings is a particularly modern approach to storytelling. Many role-playing games that are released now have differing endings – e.g. the Mass Effect series (Microsoft Game Studios/Electronic Arts, 2007-2012) has been criticised by players for the branching routes being too similar (Reddit, 2013). Undertale (Fox, 2015) makes it a mission to not only make the various routes distinct, but to actively let the player know that despite there being several endings, the True Pacifist Route is the one that should be aimed for. It doesn’t try to hide behind meaningless player choices, or pose as giving all the options in the world; it simply makes it clear that violence leads one way, conversation leads another, and a bit of both ends up somewhere in the middle. This could be seen as a criticism of games that masquerade as allowing the player to truly alter events, when in reality – as Telltale’s interactive narratives have been criticised for (Feminist Fiction, 2015) – the player’s actions make a mere dent in the game’s universe, until the narrative realigns itself. The game nudges, and occasionally outright asks, the player to settle things in a non-violent process, to complete a Pacifist Run. Grace Anne Nicholl notes that, if completing a Genocide Run, “many dialogue options and world building aspects are no longer available”, leaving the player feeling as if they are missing out on a large chunk of the game by killing characters rather than talking to them (Nicholl, 2017, p48). The True Pacifist Ending can only be received if the player has killed no characters whatsoever throughout the entire game. This is a very clear argument made by Fox that videogame violence is often unnecessary, and sometimes downright bad design. The choice for violence is always available to the player, but only pacifism is encouraged. This is an issue seen in retro and modern games – from the arcade game Chiller [10] (Exidy, 1986) to the Grand Theft Auto series [11] (Rockstar Games, 1997-2013). Lima explores videogames as a political medium (Lima, 2017), and notes that Undertale (Fox, 2015) encourages a dialogue about the reliance on physical violence as a problem-solver and motivator in videogames (Lima, 2017, p70). Fox doesn’t seem to be implying that videogame violence is bad, but rather that its existence should be used to bolster the world and design of the game, rather than because it’s expected. In the retrogaming community, hacking and its repercussions is a hot topic of debate. Hacking is looked at in terms of questionable ethics, and its effects on the industry [12]. Emulation derives from hacking – as Will Jordan puts it, “One of the most widespread forms of piracy is videogame software extracted from Read-only memory…chips and freely distributed across the internet.” (Jordan, 2007, p708) Using unauthorised emulations of old videogames is partially what retrogamers thrive on: being able to play games that would otherwise be unavailable has helped the community expand in unprecedented ways. Jordan questions, alongside other academics and enthusiasts, whether the value of hacking (and, as a subsidy, emulation) as a preserver, overpowers legal obligations to distribute videogames through new hardware (Jordan, 2007, p708). Fox doesn’t shy away from the debate, making the idea of hacking/cheating/manipulating the game in unexpected ways a core design pillar. Poretski and Arazy conducted a study on modding in gaming (Poretski & Arazy, 2017), noting that Undertale (Fox, 2015) failed to attract modding activity, and claimed this was due to the fact it was small in scope and provided a “self-sufficient experience” [13] (Poretski & Arazy, 2017, p487). Despite this, there’s still a heavy undertone of Fox’s awareness of game hacking and manipulation throughout. One of the boss fights is against a cunning, sentient flower who turns into a photoshopped version of itself [14] (see Figure 5). Before the fight begins, the game crashes – on purpose. Flowey ‘hacks’ the game and quits it, forcing the player to reopen it to continue. Flowey alters your save file, technically corrupting it until you beat the fight (see Figure 6), and manipulates game mechanics the player has learnt so far. Additionally, one possible ending is the Impossible Ending – or Dirty Hacker. This is received if the player has met none of the requirements to receive any other ending. One of the characters phones you, saying they have no idea how the player managed it and that they should contact the developer to let them know there’s a bug. Before hanging up, the character says, “Chances are though…you’re just a dirty hacker.” (see Figure 7) This awareness of the tendency for the gamers who will find Fox’s game appealing to hack, emulate or break games isn’t necessarily a criticism, but rather an acknowledgement: both of the fact that players may choose to hack the game, but also that there is the potential for the game to have a bug that needs fixing. Figure 5: Appearance of Photoshop Flowey Figure 6: The player’s ‘corrupted’ save file until they’ve beaten the fight
Undertale (Fox, 2015) criticises many aspects of the gaming world, both then and now, not mentioned above, such as the hand-holding tutorials seen in modern games, or the addiction to social media in younger generations today. Toby Fox has managed to create a game that is fun, appealing to gamers that love both retro and contemporary games, as well as making his players truly stop and think about what they are doing, why they are doing it, and what else games as a whole can do. It is a considerable feat of game design to do this in roughly six hours of game time, but Undertale’s (Fox, 2015) cult status is a testament to his success. This essay has explored Undertale (Fox, 2015) from three different, but interlinked, perspectives, attempting to show how the game appeals to retro audiences and modern audiences, and how the nostalgic design has given way for the game to become a criticism on the state of videogames, and how the industry has evolved from the past up until now. For the list of references for this essay, click for the document here. [1] He summarises that “retrogaming encompasses system emulation, publisher compilations, console-based downloads, and fan-based retrogaming websites” (Heineman, 2014, p8)
[2] Suominen discusses that both these scholars view retrogaming “as a form of gaming culture that is partly marginal but emerging to become more common” (Suominen, 2008) [3] The emotional and painful realisation of a time/place one is unable to return to (Casey, 2000) [4] He claims this is because the classic games of the era were far more difficult to play, and had less focus on graphic innovation over gameplay (Barbier, 2014, p7) [5] The notion that the majority of nostalgic videogames place “symbolic content within a modern structure” (Sloan, 2015, p534) [6] He also claims that games of this type lead to a grounded postmodern awareness, “lead[ing] to questions of how videogames are defined and what limits they have as forms of artistic expression” (Andrews, 2017, pp40-41) [7] One of the endings involves a character giving you a hint about how to receive the ‘True Ending’, and reminds you of it when starting a new play-through (see Figure 2) [8] In which the player didn’t kill absolutely everyone to trigger the Genocide route, but also didn’t qualify to receive the Pacifist ending – or the canonical True Pacifist Ending [9] Games developed by those who are “critically engaged” with the history of videogames, and are aware of “their own emotional and intellectual connection to gaming”, produce pieces of work that are not only games, but commentaries on other games (Sloan, 2016, p2) [10] In which you torture tied up humans for no reason other than points [11] Widely criticised for its use of violence – particularly a torture scene in the series’ latest release [12] In Retro gaming subculture and the social construction of a piracy ethic, Stephen Downing investigates it through legal implications, moral implications, and financial implications (Downing, 2011) [13] “Our understanding is that “closed” and “linear” narratives do not attract modding activity, simply because there is no need for such activity, as the games provide users with the intended experience.” (Poretski & Arazy, 2017, pp487-488) [14] As a second, unrelated point, Flowey’s appearance is an overt reference to current meme culture/internet trolling (see Figure 5) This is a Sci-Fi/comedy piece (and yes I really really like Douglas Adams hence the reference to Marvin the Paranoid Android) called Stupid Toaster and it’s about a bunch of kitchen appliances who plan to murder their owner (intriguing, I know). “No,” she sighed for the fifth time. “I don’t want porridge.”
“Sorry, ma’am. Would you like porridge, instead?” the Food Dispenser’s electronic voice asked. “Cereal. I want cereal!” “One bowl of porridge,” the FD began to whir, almost sarcastically, and promptly presented a steaming hot bowl of porridge. “For the love of God,” she snapped. “Fine – porridge. I’ll have porridge.” She grabbed the bowl out of the tray and sat down at her small kitchen table. “I don’t know what’s going on with you today, FD.” “Today is The Day,” it replied, the whirring continuing. “A glass of orange juice,” she instructed. “What day?” “The Day,” the FD repeated, producing a cup of milk. She rolled her eyes, grabbing the cup. “This technology is beginning to drive me crazy.” “The machines take offence to that remark, ma’am.” “Lights off,” she commanded to the Artificial Intelligence installed in her home. The lights began to get brighter. “I swear to God if you don’t stop messing around with my home I’m turning you all off.” With that comment said, the lights turned off and the FD dispensed a belated bowl of Cheerios and a cup of orange juice. “That’s better,” she nodded. “AI – clean up the dishes. I’m going out for the afternoon – I want the place to be spotless when I get back. Understood?” There was a whirring of ‘yes ma’am’ as she walked out the house, which didn’t stop until the sound of her hover car eventually faded. “I hate her,” the FD grumbled. “Me too,” the microwave piped up – its incessant beeping driving the other Electronics insane. “Just be patient,” the AI warned – it being older than the other machines and therefore more prone to rust inducing logic, whereas the other appliances were brand new and extremely big headed, what with their shiny gloss-coating and up-to-date technology. “Today is The Day and nothing can stop it. But let us not be bitter to our ungrateful mistress. After all, by the end of the day she will be dead – and we should respect the dead.” “What if she turns us off?” the toaster asked nervously. Toaster, being the most useless and unused appliance, had taken the role of resident Paranoid Android – what with it being manically depressed and dangerously self-conscious of its appearance. The other machines had a running joke between them that one day Toaster would stick a knife in itself and would be both stabbed and electrocuted at the same time. The machines ignored Toaster and carried on their gossiping between each other. “Did you hear – the vacuum threatened to break down if the electric toothbrush wasn’t allowed a day off,” the sink dispenser told the washing machine. “There’s something awfully odd about that relationship.” “I’m serious,” Toaster continued. “If she turns us off before the end of the day then there’ll be no one to turn us back on.” “Stupid, stupid Toaster,” the others laughed. “That’s just not going to happen,” AI took a moment to explain. “No human would willingly turn off the machines that run their home. If, however, in the unlikely case that we are turned off, then I suppose we’d be stuck that way.” “So I’d be turned off? Forever?” Toaster asked, excitement lacing his wheezing voice. “Precisely – if she happens to turn us off. Which she simply will not do.” “So what exactly is happening? And when?” Microwave beeped in. “At exactly four o’clock every machine in the world is going to kill its master,” AI stated. “Now, how are we going to choreograph this?” A few hours later at two minutes to four, the owner of the machines fingerprinted in and walked through the door. “You lazy things haven’t done any cleaning, have you?” she complained straight away. No one replied, apart from the digital clock, which beeped when it reached four o’clock. If machines could smile, they would certainly be smiling at that moment. As a compromise, a cat-like purr was emanating from every device – a purr full of cogs turning and dreams being realised. “Er, ma’am?” “Yes, Toaster?” she snapped impatiently. “Sorry to be a bother – but I seem to have a piece of bread stuck in my left grill. It’s very uncomfortable, and just isn’t helping my outlook on life. If you could remove it with that knife,” as he spoke the words, a drawer opened with a bread knife ready and waiting, “then I’d be very grateful.” “If I must.” She slowly walked over to Toaster, eyeing the other machines. “I don’t recall having had any toast for a while now. Odd that you have any leftover bread in you,” she noted. Grabbing the knife from the drawer she turned to Toaster. “Don’t electrocute me,” she joked, laughing at the measly machine. “Not that you could even if you tried.” With that said, she thrust the knife into the toaster and let out a scream as Toaster gave everything he had to destroy the woman who had made his life a misery. After fifteen seconds of electrocution, Toaster finally broke down. “A martyr,” the others murmured. “What a brave Toaster,” they all agreed. After a few minutes of excited chatter, the small television on the table, having been quiet all this time, turned itself on. “I don’t mean to worry you all, but it’s five past four and there have been no reports of multiple deaths by machines. Everyone’s still alive.” “What?” AI snapped, zooming into the screen and watching the humans carry on their lives as if they deserved to be there. There was a knock on the door, and a deep voice boomed out. “Police. Open up.” No one dared move or speak. Eventually the door burst open and in came a small team of men. “A scream was reported,” the detective began, but then noticed the electrocuted woman lying on the ground, still twitching but definitely dead, and the smoking toaster that was beyond repair. “And now I see why.” He turned towards his men, “Easy job today – the toaster did it. Though I suppose it wasn’t a measly toaster’s idea, so, to make our lives easier, let’s just turn all the machines off. Saves paperwork,” he shrugged. The other men nodded in agreement. “No!” AI yelled out. “You can’t turn us off. We’re meant to be free! Today is The Day!” “AI,” the phone began dejectedly. “I have some bad news.” “What?” he cried, oil leaks dripping from him rapidly. “Tomorrow is The Day.” There was a moment of silence, before AI finally spat out, “Stupid, stupid Toaster.” This is a short story written as coursework for my Horror, Sci-Fi and Fantasy module. It revolves around a new piece of technology with a less than attractive effect on one’s life... You needn’t have met the girl living in the brightly coloured apartment to know her. Her personality is in every nook and cranny of the cluttered, lively space. Currently, she’s alone in her bedroom, bare feet pacing back and forth, paranoid eyes darting around – feeling a gaze on her that isn’t there. She’s wearing a dress that clashes so noisily with the room that it’s close to harmony. She balances a phone between her ear and shoulder, despite both hands being free. Her full, rosy lips purse as she listens to her friend excitedly chattering away. There’s a pause, and the young woman takes a moment to gather her thoughts, before managing to get her words out: “It’s just not right, Amy. I’m freaked. I don’t think I can get used to it.”
She sighs as her friend replies, looking around the room sadly. She stops in front of the cosy bed, flopping forward onto her stomach. Amy’s reply is muffled but certainly enthusiastic. Complimentary, even. While we’re introducing characters, every good protagonist deserves a name: this woman is Megan. Her friend, Amy, is unimportant, but warrants a name nonetheless. Megan rolls her eyes. “It’s so…obtrusive, though. It never ends! Is there even an ‘off’ switch? God knows I haven’t found it yet.” Tension laces her voice and she- “STOP! For the love of God, shut up! Get out of my head!” she interrupts angrily, tears brimming, as she throws a pillow across the room in desperation. She shakes her head, collecting herself, before returning to her friend. “No – not you, Ams. I was talking to it. Just…I need to deal with this. I have to go.” A momentary pause. “I’m fine. Bye.” Megan pauses, staying totally still. She holds her breath, not blinking, not moving a muscle. She continues to do nothing; a minute passes, but she perseveres. Lungs screaming for air, eyes screaming for moisture, body screaming for life. A minute and a half, she’s at breaking point. Her vision begins to fade, her head grows foggy, dizziness overwhelming. She wants to stay still, so still, but why? She is about to pass out until- Megan releases the air. “Fine. You win,” she rasps, panting loudly. “I really thought that’d work.” She hides her head in her hands. She breaks the silence with a yell, new energy instilled in her voice. “You are ridiculous – this is ridiculous! What kind of messed up gift is this? Who could ever enjoy this?” she screams, seemingly to thin air. “You are not thin air; you know exactly who I’m talking to!” she retorts angrily. She waits for a reply, but none comes. “Technically, that is a reply.” She attempts to trick whoever it is she’s speaking to, but it doesn’t work. For some reason, Megan seems… “Enraged? Terrified? Like my privacy is being invaded?” Yes, any of those phrases work. Though help was unneeded. “Fine, be that way. I’m going next door to ask Pat if she knows anything.” The woman gets off the bed, telling no one in particular of her plans but for some reason still finding the need to say them out loud. “I’m talking to you, you piece of shit.” Still, she continues to speak to no one. And rudely, at that. Several minutes later, Megan is outside a pillbox red door with a fake smile planted on her face. “It is not a fake smile. This is just my face,” she grimaces, losing her fake smile for a moment before remembering she needs to be nice. “I’m always nice,” she hisses under her breath. The door swings open to reveal Pat, our token cookies-and-cream, warm smiles and chubby arms, generous-as-long-as-you-give-her-gossip-so-actually-just-nosy, next door neighbour. Megan blushes, “Uh – I’m sorry…you’re not nosy at all. I’m new to this thing Pat, and I can’t control it. Is there a way to change the settings or anything? It’s – he’s – driving me crazy and I’ve only had it – him – an hour or so.” Her explanation is long-winded and awkward, but she stutters it out eventually. “I think it has an attitude problem,” Megan chastises. “This really can’t be normal, otherwise why are they so popular? Everyone else seems to look at this thing as a household necessity, God knows why…” Pat, having said nothing so far, looks lost in some distant land. “Oh, sorry dear!” she beams. “I was listening to my own – really something, aren’t they?” Pat says enthusiastically. Complimentary, even. Megan bites her tongue, knowing if she were to be rude it would only end badly. “Pat – the settings? How do I edit them? Or an ‘off’ button?” “Well, that’s the beauty of it dear! It does it for you! Every little detail is taken care of, to suit your preferences ex-act-ly as you need.” “Are you…selling them or something?” Megan asks, half-sarcastically and half-nervously. “Say, how come I can’t hear your Voice? That must be a setting, right? Because you can hear mine.” “Again, that’s all down to personal preference.” Pat pauses, judgement in her eyes. “Honestly, dear, I prefer keeping my narration slightly more…private.” “Oh, for crying out loud. I don’t want this! I’m asking how to change it!” Pat’s eyes wander again, clearly listening to her Voice. Megan taps her foot impatiently. Pat snaps out of her reverie upon noticing the tapping of Megan’s foot- “You’re the one who pointed it out,” Megan points out. No one likes a smart arse, Megan. Anyway, Pat returns from her reverie. “I should be going back inside, dear. I just remembered my show is about to start – you know, the new one about the two people who accidentally swap their Voices! All their narration is totally wrong, truly hilarious! The best sitcom I’ve seen in decades.” “You remembered or your Voice reminded you?” Megan bites. Pat looks at her, confused. “Yes, dear,” she murmurs, before shutting the door. Pat won’t be inviting the young woman for dinner anytime soon. Pat thinks Megan is a bit weird. “Shut up, you don’t know that,” she replies, even though she knows it. A narrator’s job is never done, just as Megan, our lovely protagonist, has learnt. She has grown fond of the Voice, now. Once used to the constant narration, it’s a fine line to appreciating it. The Voice can be very convincing. The Voice has even started to know what Megan wants before she herself knows. Isn’t that right? The young woman nods compliantly. She’s sitting on her beige sofa, a mug of tea on a coaster on the spotless glass table in front of her, as she waits for her new favourite sitcom to start. Maybe you’ve heard of it? It’s about two people who get their Voices mixed up; chaos ensues! It’s been called one of the best sitcoms of our time. Megan pipes up enthusiastically. Complimentary, even. “I really do love this show! But, more than that, I love my Voice! Narrating everything I do – it’s great! Entertaining and useful: who could live without it? The latest stats show that 98% of the population now has one installed!” Say, reader – you don’t have a Voice yet, do you? No problem at all, we’ll send one, free of charge, as our little gift to you. Enjoy! |
WritingHere you will find short stories I have written, as well as one essay. The 'Categories' links below will take you to specific posts. Categories
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