Day 59: Slave of God


As a social butterfly of much renown, it may come as a shock to you to learn that I’ve never really been one for the club scene. Hard as it may be to believe, having an epileptic seizure whilst being consumed by repetitive music and the body heat of strangers has managed to elude a position on my bucket list all these years.

With that disclaimer out of the way, I won’t claim to know whether or not Slave of God accurately simulates the experience of a drug-addled night out. I’m going to lean towards a no, since I’ve never met anyone in the real world that’s been shaped like Gumby and surrounded by an aggressive force-field of light, as most of the… NPCs we’ll call them, appear to you. You can walk up to most of them and make a connection of sorts, tuning into their own personal rhythm, eventually drifting away to a world where you’re the only two on the dance floor. It’s romantic? That question mark wasn’t a typo, I’m legitimately not sure.

I think an important and often overlooked quality of truly intelligent people is their ability to admit they don’t know everything. That said, I have no earthly idea what Slave of God is, aside from a very focused assault on the senses. It’s somehow equally difficult to look at and look away from, your eyes likely to start bleeding before you finally surmise its meaning, if one exists at all. It’s certainly thought provoking, too well-crafted of an experience to be feel truly random, as if it were trippy and nonsensical just for the sake of it.

Being stone sober my entire life, I’d say there’s definitely something to simulating such a specific experience that I’ll never actually partake in. From that perspective, I imagine there is some sort of commentary on the lifestyle as a whole, or at least the effects of hallucinogenic drugs on the body.

What that statement is however… I haven’t the foggiest. Are drugs bad? Are drugs good?

Am I drugs?

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