RND/ to consider a ‘cosmic’ audio remix of the end boss fight in classic rhythm violence game Thumper, using incredible track Legend from 1996 album Fly, Fly My Sadness (Bulgarian Voices Angelite feat. Huun Huur Tu.)
File Size: 401 MB
Duration: 7 min 44 s
Frame Rate: 60 FPS
Dimensions: 1920 x 1080
Chroma Subsampling: 4:2:0
Audio Bit Rate: 128 kb/s
The result seems a potent brew of impossibly ancient mushroom based plant teachers, the expansive plains of the Mongolian-Russian border, mind searing cosmic horror, ideas concerning spiritual evolutionary ascendency, the birth of a new (‘near future retro 80s’ universe, and hyper-futuristic mind-controlled videogame brain console plugins free in packs of mango bubblegum.
RND/ to imagine a “Portrait of Woman With Started Eyes”
– To imagine what the subject is thinking in the strange transition between snapshots somehow concerns notions of epistomology and the true limits of human knowledge – symbolized (say) by the existence of Gravity’s Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon, accidentally left behind on the seat of a midnight maglev train to andor from a futuristic Brighton, UK
to consider marginalia as horror play by connor sherlock developer of amazing atmospheric experience sanctuary
technical review of marginalia / says little about atmosphere of play – which feels kinda interesting / aesthetically engaging – less so than connors previous research – but not really scary
– voice over sounds muffled – at one point n mentions packs of wild dogs roaming streets but n sounds like packs of wild ducks which actually / unfortunately sounds better
– good accompanying soundtrack would sound better if more intermittent allowing for more environmental noise / silence/ more wind in trees / footsteps through tall grass seems needed
– perhaps disembodied voice of narrator should somehow feel more embedded in landscape – perhaps as loose pages resarcs can collect / then quote listen to – actually no x bit too slenderman
– mildly corny writing/ in particular bit about dark quote seeds growing – somehow sounds unnecessarily noirish
– what resarc does not know – disembodied walkers relationship to mysterious eric ey seeks – therefore any motivational sense – why ir seeking ir out equally mysterious
– twenty seconds before end of play narrator suddenly goes off on emotional tangent rambling wildly about quote machines – x well out of tone with rest of ir delivery up to x point / sounds awkward
– if music had actually stopped at moment walker reaches quote machines n would of made far more impact
– n did not seem possible to change fov in menu in current build
– consider general disconnect between what resarc as able to do in such narrative space – just walk – potential for quote researching meanings of play through environmental interaction
– tone set up by mixture of environment / narration needs to be more narrow / specific
as x horrible memory dream with terrifying punchline or just generally meant to feel creepy from beginning to end
– what ey would do different/ tweak writing / delivery to feel more matter of fact – in same way one readily goes along with dream logic – simply strolling through well lit woods at night – until n starts feeling distinctly nightmarish
/ sanctuary – some virtual tourism
one of more compellingly atmospheric research spaces of 2015/ consider sanctuary by connor sherlock as excellent example of what theorist robert what calls abstract encounter
/ birthplace of ossian
to consider virtual scottish landscapes signified in walking sims by digital space auteur connor sherlock
impressionistic remix via theorist robert what
autumn in highlands would be brief – glorious riot of colour blazing red across moors gleaming every shade of gold in forests of sheltered glens
those achingly beautiful images would be painted again / again across hills in shivering waters of mountain tarns until harsh winds of winter sent last quaking leaf to x exit on frozen ground
– elizabeth stuart/ heartstorm
garrison sleeps in citadel
with ghosts ancient stones
high up on parapet
scottish piper stands alone
high on wind
highland drums begin to roll
something from past just comes
stares into ey soul
– mark knopfler/ sailing to philadelphia
for so long as one hundred men remain alive/
ir shall never under any conditions submit to
domination of english
x not for glory or riches
or hon ey ir fight/ but only for liberty/ which
no good man will consent to lose but with ir life
– declaration of arbroath 1320
/ prelude to irrelevance – another limitless night under alien stars on sum impossibly distant planetoid
to stare up at megastructural architecture over billion eons old in silent awe struck wonderment
/ stepped reckoner – in which resarc henry swanson says/ if ey travel into heart of structure ey may jump up – eventually scramble onto roof beams
from there ey may carefully make ey way to outside – jump up between cubes/ feel ey virtual nuts tighten from height/ falling down from three thirds of way up sucks
/ last visit to shard – some virtual tourism
while researching yearn for option to stop piano music – wish to scale highest cubes – also for cubes to be loose respond to mild earthquakes resulting in sudden potential crushing of disembodied resarc / ghost
one also imagined distant lightening fog arising from unplumbed depths wind noise at altitude
also at nodal point feel desire to cross vast wonderfully deadly chasm by skill / grappling hook
again – if only such play spaces / systems were more fully procedural architecturally emergent literally infinite ever evolving/ images brightened colour adjusted
/ simulation sphere – oddly cyberpunk/ as if pleasantly caught in slow animation loop within sum long lost vhs tv series
/ steelspill – in which after repeatedly falling resarcs soon forget trying to make n to surface of crates just stare in head aching semi mystery at ir immediate surroundings
/ suzugy 7016 – welcome to milliways two point zero
in which connor sherlock play designer of marginalia – amazingly atmospheric sanctuary
annoyingly voiced strains of announcer in ey ear as easily ignored
n could even be ey own inner voice idly chatting to elf in order to delay inevitable feelings of deep ontological paralysis mute temperature less terror
what as ostensibly cheap sci fi narrative in setting quickly devolves back towards what was there all along – silently crushing feeling of blank violently inanimate doom – infinitely oppressive weightless burden on existential chest
architecture of vamana as blandly terrifying futility made structurally manifest
in which ey now always were mummified undead fly permanently stuck in infinite colourless nonreal spacetime amber
despite several large white blocks changing state within x floating mindless vessel of dereliction x always nonthing but nonthing whatsoever happening here so will there ever be – profoundly unprofund uselessness of infinitely solid yet completely hollow space bulk – eternal fatalist block universe unmoving purposeless quote infunctional – utterly deterministic – parmenidean nightmare sum random lifeless annihilation existing forever whose only meaning equals none
darkly resonant cry of organless organs as empty virtual cathedral dedicated to nonthing but elf for no reason/ to consider voice of vamana one big silent open throat unable to scream leading nowhere – forever
RND/ to consider several imaginary, somehow culturally computationally-parallel megastructures:
Abandoned Arcology Hyperstructure
Example RND Statement via Robert What: accidental homage to Masdar City on Earth.
3072 × 3456 .jpg, remix of old Doom textures
An abandoned arcology hyper-structure, recently rediscovered floating on orbit around ZX84 in the Tramodine System.
With its signature 27,000 mile high walls of impenetrable black nano diamond, intricately patterned with outlines of once fertile rice fields – no records remain of this once classically designed (yet now mysteriously empty) megacity.
It’s the fourth such wall found in as many years; Big Scientists are now suspicious.
As for the life forms who once lived there – their culture and ultimate fate still remains unknown / unknowable.
3072 × 1920 .jpg, via screenshot from Aliens (1986, James Cameron)
Imagine a vast post industrial processor of ambient, lo-sci-fi atmosphere manufactured by Weyland Corporation – where researcher Billy Fanward works as cheap Renta-Ultraborg security.
Blue Blade Megacity
3072 × 1728 .jpg, via screenshots from Blade Runner (1982, Ridley Scott)
Fusing two iconic images from movie.
CN Tower, Toronto
3072 × 3072 .jpg, remix of Caitlin Cronenberg photo
Remix of album cover by some awful industry rapper; an arresting image of ‘towering’ monolithic power – raw designer bleakness, desolate and oppressive – an artificially brooding mega-structural erection to hyper narcissism – an alternative, doubly inverted retro Sci Fi take.
Coogans Bluff Megastructure
3072 × 2592 .jpg, montage of screenshots from Coogan’s Bluff (1968, Don Siegel)
Watch as it zooms out to a global megascale architectural power dynamic; ‘Maximum Amerika’ as pre stressed cultural concrete monolith.
One Percent Tower
3072 × 1728 .jpg, via screenshot of anime Highlander: Search For Vengeance (2007, Yoshiaki Kawajiri)
Example Artist Statement via Robert What: So welcome to the impossibly distant Now – where a 1% tower stands alone, immovable – as much symbolic death wish as megastructure. Hidden in plain view among the ongoing post apocalyptic destruction of (/the idea of) the future, such super image expresses uncommon chronotropic hyper dreamlike feelings without name or label. To consider this image as an expression of ‘visual language’ expressing strange virtual experience – a hot heavy day spent hiding among dusty ruins.
Your throat is parched; you look up from your desperate life and a monumental vision suddenly looms, set against the immortal mechanical sky of a certain peculiar and disquieting shade. Feel that the tower is never quite reachable, but rather reaches out to dominate the surrounding planetary blandscape, making itself the crushingly still, horribly off yellow centre of the new undead world. Total godlike domination – a profound and totalizing uselessness. Slow, sick birds wheel listless in the high thermal updrafts. Occasionally bodies culturally disregarded by those who exist – not live – in tower, can be seen falling from it – exploding silently at the base after a long free fall.
No words are available here in this non place. The air is hot and dry, and you’re forever thirsty – yet only the flat and terrifyingly banal ‘ecstasy of gold’ exists.
Prey 2 Megacity
3072 × 1728 .jpg, remixed Prey concept art
Smeary, faded megacity dreams of a long ‘AAA industry’ abandoned videogame, which, even on virtual paper easily urinates on the modern Prey based product.
3072 × 3901 .jpg, Flickr image remix via Lee Sie
An ‘abstract encounter’ /research space potentiality; Terra Nullius – nobody’s land
To consider the mythic lore and strange narrative surrounding and arising out of (/ the concept of) an ancient, super massive smart concrete flyover of near infinite span: a vast highway overpass, set in an ontological desert wilderness devoid of life, except for giant manta rays, a few lonely crows and some hallucinogenic, electric blue fungus which grows in the sad skeletal eye sockets of unknown humanoid creatures dotted around the landscape. Apparently this space was regularly traversed by orderless ascetic medieval-style monks for contemplative purposes, who walked its endless lengths in state of silent uncanny wonderment until they died of sheer fascination, upon which ir were unceremoniously thrown over the side, often dissolving in the air (such were the heights involved.)
They would also climb up the huge support columns with their bare hands in obsessive attempts to reach ‘higher’ levels – a feat which would often take days at a stretch – whenever they would fall however, they would not die but simply awake on several, highly frustrating levels lower than their fellow travellers. Their journey was made more difficult by accumulated piles of wind blown sand at each support base – which were actually sand coloured nurdles 
A remarkably picture of this megastructure was discovered by hyper-modern researchers in a dusty, legendary illuminated codex, scratched paper texture and time – a pale grimoire for evoking the undying. According to initial interpretations of the book’s heavily codified texts and marginalia, the monks invented a bizarre story that the overpass originally existed to transport immense sentient machines from an ancient cosmic war, themselves on an epic collective quest of spiritual redemption.
In a somewhat foolhardy line of research, players plan to call out to the medieval dead monks – allow their ghosts to enter their bodies on the astral plane, in order to be transported to the overpass (note the appearance of the skulking Skull King in the Terra Nullius logo / logos)
Strangely no food or water is needed here – despite the constant clawing feel of hunger and thirst. To experience Terra Nullius is to immerse oneself in troubled appreciation of incorporeal architectural foreboding – to witness the slow sounds of blood warm wind, the lethargic whale like song of the giant rays which echo blankly off the dull, generally smooth, hard sides of this inconceivable and ‘out landish’ concrete forest. This quietly uncultivated and introspectively barbarous un-territory.