there's something particularly grimy about this one that wasn't present in the others. something instigating and coarse and spiteful and reactionary. "language as a virus" as interpreted in the most corrosive way possible. characterized by emptiness; overwhelmingly pro-nothing

HC2 was positioned like an anaglyph where the heightened elements were layered just askew of the seen&felt "human" elements despite their differences, and when paired they were able to speak earnestly to lived experience. HC3 bristles at the very thought; too suspicious and cynical to allow anything to resonate so cleanly; too preoccupied with how earned it is; too uncomfortable with its own audience; too busy wagging its finger at ghosts

this is a work defined by unpleasant, uncharitable metacommentary; the shock of gore, body fluids, and pointlessly cruel backstories amounting to little more than a yawning (bored, boring) void. violent death of the author offered the instant every page's been torn to confetti. one last mean little joke from a particularly mean little game

a neurotic stormcloud reckoning with creation and voyeurism and expectations and consumption. the reclaiming of catharsis thru punishingly overcorrective countermeasure. a last gasp chance to weaponize itself against that what came prior, itself, and the "puppeteer". denouement as calculated sabotage that can't be walked back

rpg maker's BioShock Infinite: Burial at Sea - Episode 2 (2014)