There's something special to your brain, a unique structure. I had to believe we were fighting to build something, though unable to appreciate full scope of the tapestry in which we were weaving if for none else, I am supremely proud of my crew for their confidence and resolve.
They are what has kept me going through the darkest of my days and were there and were there as my friends when I was lost and drifting from one corridor to the other.
Navigating Dead Fields is no easy task, whatever universe you find yourself in, proceed with care. and handle it with love. I look to the skies asking when we'll be now, realizing I get lost in my own fantastical hopes is painful.
But to at least process the gift seeing I was drowning in my own fantasy allowed me to stop long enough. to fathom how far down the rabbit hole we had fallen, a test of theatrical endurance. a five year four, five year trial of the soul. We could not help but grow.
left with one course of action, whatever skill I lacked, I would learn and become worthy of the treasure we so dearly coveted. The boon we desired, the ending we deserved. Standing by as an observer was never an option for us.
It looks like a Que We were cued. D. We were cued. Ludens. We are those who play. Who would I have to become to earn the right to don that suit and title?
What would it mean to abandon everything and pursue this character's objectives, as if it were my own? What cost would I be willing to pay in order to be in the right place at the right time?
Whatever the cost accrued. I would take on the debt and commit my life to pursuing the vision I had returned with from the zero cell system. How exquisite a design, what grandiose claims after the first year I had difficulty detaching from zero.
The essence of the ion being the act of leaving reality provokes this steady dissent into a zero cell system where self and story are inseparable with prolonged engagement only compounding maladaptive belief systems and entropic narrative loops in attempting to make our mark ..
..and leave an impression on the project, we that is to say, I allowed this bleed to go unaided for too long and as such, there is now a part of 0GTProlog that is permanently a part of me.
While I have been able to move beyond its fiction, I lived, my hopes or in dreams, of an interactive geolocation strand type, real time play system remains unrealized.
Regrettably, I have reached the wall, and beyond rescue, I am stuck where I am, crafting a better signal, telling a better story, in pursuit of a wild enigma.
Were we manipulated? Or was it simply suggestion that drove our minds to the brink of madness? We did this to ourselves. We did it to each other. We did it because we wanted the game to be real.
We had knelt before the impossibility of a future calling to us; a future where we were no longer fighting in the shadows, linking BT ghosts and abandoned trailers, a future where our loyalty and unity would be waiting. The question remains, are we abandoned?
Now, how do I put my life back together from here? How does one begin to live a normal life after returning from Middle Earth? In our minds? Vindication was always coming tomorrow. And as it never came, we were trapped in the town of nowhere.