Thoughts on an Arcade Game

Not sure I can translate the pure vision, but lemme see...

Picture it. Midi notes harken a spiritual quest about to begin, the credits reeling still, and suddenly all the stars have blown out. The present vanishes, even as it unscrolls before us.

 

There, the orange triange.  Fire-breathing, vulnerable-under-the-chin dragons, who live on horizon.

And closer now the shire peasant, of a thatched kind who fear of the unknown and eschew the blazing sun.

 

Disintegration and bodily invasion.  Inhabit now.  Your avator is defined by the distant limits of the screen.  What would you like to do?

Each phrasing further floods the constraining shores of syntax, thickens every effort, expands the breadth and depth of this conflux between the present and the textual or visual representation of the past.  Inhabitant.

Beholde the webb'd castle.  A jagged crown of flames / Above the empty rooms/ an old man's mouth moves and here be the charge. Ye bum, he thinks of you, shrugging off danger, to the first quest.

Eccentric inventor, “conked on the thinkum,” incapable of resisting the impulse to dismantle things and reassemble them in skewed, unexpected ways

the lightning bolts going in and out

he is a wizard

high in a cave
above the cliffs that you must grip.  Holdstrong.

someone falling : once/ asked, there’s no retrieving it. / that syllable drops into hostile / genuflection.

the echo of cloud on wave

Eagles swoop young rabbits to drown them there in the river

Congratulations!  Here is thy potion!  POOF!

 

Fragile ferns lay upon the stone

imprints dew foresaw,

off-key odes sang in monotone

as sorrow scraped me raw

A cauldron in the forest brews a show of the rape/ the take.  Must retrieve her, now it is personal.

 

A dervish, his skirts flaring, his bright tongue forked aflame,
gifts his entourage with hookah and all the lights of luxury
so they may subside beneath the weight of Maxwell’s general excellence
but notices how you lap at misery's pool
and offers sacred tool
if you'll dance the fire dance with him
around/ around/ the brim/ his whim
to rush around and you must bound
alight the ground up left left down
up right right up right right right down

Congratulations!  The sword is yours

Map menu is a room of such simplicity
from the mountain a view of the sea,
its round immensity
crossed to desert shores where
contemplation acknowledges rather than evades despair
pursue your own thoughts
feeding on the rarified points what

float until

running up the sands of time,
at each footfall lay a passing day
aging with every step until you slip on your own beard.
Check the inventory and pray
use the potion , ageless you ascend

to the lair where dragons den
"They've sent you?" asks elder snake

to make your almost amiable mediocrity rewarded, somehow, in a manner that is surprising, and heartrending, and ultimately, worthless...

I don't know how it ends.  But I assume you get the princess in the end.