The Wifi doesn't work but we still try tho.
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What could this be?
|11.5 KB||hidas||2016/03/06 03:47|
Well here it is.
|8.2 MB||hidas||2016/03/06 00:22|
|9.5 KB||hidas||2016/03/02 03:31|
Well here it ends
Ricky looked around his home, concerned. The game he had just booted up seemed...incomplete. He wasn't even sure how to play. No cool splash-screen adorned the title menu. No tutorial taught him the controls. In fact, the game seemed to have no purpose whatsoever. Then Ricky, gazing upon the luscious goodness of lemon cake, reached a starting conclusion: Perhaps this wasn't even a game at all. Perhaps, as they say in the Congo, "The metagame is your life", the purpose of the game was to discover, to understand, the game itself. (The Game. You just lost.) Perhaps, (and Ricky could hardly believe his own thoughts) the game recently uploaded to Pyweek by two quite dashing panadas was to discover the purpose, structure, and intent of their "creation". How could anyone be so arrogant, so pretentious, as to upload a metagame to Pyweek, Ricky wondered. Oh well. Time to show those two fool panadas what a true lemon cake maestro had up his sleeves. Hfr gur neebj xrlf gb zbir. Gur fcnpr one cnhfrf gur phgfprarf.
Incomprehensible: a Dialogue on the Meaning of Symbolism in Popular Culture
We have crafted what we believe is the most versatile symbol for human endeavor: a hallway. This hallway, and its features, incorporate and apply several decades of research on human perspective and as such is drawn as if the player were a god; for attainment of the upper echelon of consciousness is in fact the sum total of all work. Preten, Tious, et al. have also studied the coloration of the human soul and found it green. As mere laypeople I have no vain hope you may understand the significance of what we have here made. It is, quite simply, a lesson, a work, a song for the ages. Thou shalt not covet our beautiful handiwork. The doors of the hallway are doors into your soul. I daresay we panadas have discovered the meaning of life. O hallway! Thy wonder shall never cease! From the cracks in the walls to the chills of the soul thy beauty causes peace! The linoleum floor leading up to the door has an echo which never shall tire For when tried by fire thou art found pure!, pure as the gold of Anound from whither thy stones were hewn. Grant me my wish, a boon for thee, o hallway!