One of the many games available that reminds players why video games are so unique as an interactive storytelling medium. You couldn’t adapt Hypnospace Outlaw into a TV show or a movie. The user experience itself is inextricably linked to the events as they unfold. There are hundreds of blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moments, hundreds of corners of dying websites left unexplored – behind the goofy late 90s internet pastiche is real sincerity and wistful melancholy.
It dawned on me as I approached the end of the game, searching for clues, leads, anything that might lead to my next big bust. I was mindlessly clicking on links. I found myself back at the Hypnospace newspage. I clicked on one of the many headlines: “Tragedy in the Middle-East”. I read the first sentence, “204 confirmed dead after coalition forces bombed a medical facility believed to house terrorist operatives.”
I didn’t understand. I’d spent the last few hours goofing around, visiting fictional fan sites dedicated to made-up music genres, playing silly little point and click adventures, and all of a sudden 204 people are dead. This never becomes relevant. Outside of the news, nobody seems to mention it. Then I remember I’m playing a game.
Weird little moments like this occur during Hypnospace Outlaw. Sudden shocks to the system. Torrential gravity. The weight of two hundred souls. You ban a 1st grade school teacher for sharing drawings of a copyrighted cartoon character online. Her name is Abagail. You forget about her. Later, you find a Hypnospace page dedicated to various loved ones in memoriam. Maybe you’ll recognize her name again…
Hypnospace is a wonderland of sights and sounds but it is not the world, only its people, and themselves as they see themselves; it is beautiful and sad and transient, but preserved in perfect detail. It’s funny. It’s tragic. It’s a maze. It’s a home.
It’s a long dream with an abrupt ending, and it’s half-remembered, and everyone’s still there, except they never were.
It dawned on me as I approached the end of the game, searching for clues, leads, anything that might lead to my next big bust. I was mindlessly clicking on links. I found myself back at the Hypnospace newspage. I clicked on one of the many headlines: “Tragedy in the Middle-East”. I read the first sentence, “204 confirmed dead after coalition forces bombed a medical facility believed to house terrorist operatives.”
I didn’t understand. I’d spent the last few hours goofing around, visiting fictional fan sites dedicated to made-up music genres, playing silly little point and click adventures, and all of a sudden 204 people are dead. This never becomes relevant. Outside of the news, nobody seems to mention it. Then I remember I’m playing a game.
Weird little moments like this occur during Hypnospace Outlaw. Sudden shocks to the system. Torrential gravity. The weight of two hundred souls. You ban a 1st grade school teacher for sharing drawings of a copyrighted cartoon character online. Her name is Abagail. You forget about her. Later, you find a Hypnospace page dedicated to various loved ones in memoriam. Maybe you’ll recognize her name again…
Hypnospace is a wonderland of sights and sounds but it is not the world, only its people, and themselves as they see themselves; it is beautiful and sad and transient, but preserved in perfect detail. It’s funny. It’s tragic. It’s a maze. It’s a home.
It’s a long dream with an abrupt ending, and it’s half-remembered, and everyone’s still there, except they never were.