RND// To consider ‘The Best Of Alien Fiction’:
Hi. This is a collection of largely unedited, contextless, middle-2K era posts from my old site alienfiction.com. This was before I was permanently unable to log back in, due to Vogonesque levels of bureaucratic incompetence on Godaddy’s part. (Do not register a website with them.)
I’d managed to save a fair few of the old posts a few weeks before lock out – mostly about videogames and game culture. They are now here for offline viewing (warning: due to link rot, a sizeable number of the youtube hyperlinks shown are probably dead. Various xml fluff from WordPress has been replaced with [IMAGE].)
I poured time and effort into my site, yet it all only got a handful of views. Depending on my writing and the ideas (if any) contained therein, you’re about to find out why. Personally I blame The Algorithm (/Within.)
Despite the narrow range of topics on view here, Alien Fiction was never a site solely dedicated to videogame critique. ‘Videogames’ and ‘videogame culture’ were the only thing I could think of writing about at the time. If generous, I could suggest that readers pretend I was partaking in a form of Strange Internet Performance Art, in which I played the part of a Researcher, pretending to write absurdist articles for a supermassive near future hypercorporation involved in reality changing R&D experiments. But not really. I was just terminally bored.
Don’t even know why I felt I had anything at all to say about games, other than a general questioning curiosity (if not cynicism) about an unchecked, multi-billion dollar industry which appears to have the entire world in its slimy grip. Games are also nice and shiny, which appeals to the easily pleased and distracted idiot in me.
If you enjoyed skim reading though this odd melange and it made you think, please do let drop me an email, as I’d like to imagine it wasn’t all for nothing. (If that sounds like a deliberate fishing for complements, rest assured it is; nobody wants to feel like they’re only ever ‘pissing into their own stale wind’.) That their random midnight backwater-blogging thoughts are empty, without true substance. (Having said that, I kid you not, Ry Cooder’s haunting tune “Paris, Texas” has just come on over the Lab speakers down on Level D8, and is making me feel lonesome and strange and full of distant fading American existential sunsets.) Stay safe. Remember. I’m out here too, somewhere..
Zipped epub file of articles. 272K words (No Copyright, No Licence, Maximum R&D – Please Kopimi!):