Twenty Two + Twenty Three

'After taking a coastal path, I am obviously floating in a disembodied way, not the regular moving by vehicle or flying. Passing along strangely narrow A roads, like a coach, but again not, as previously mentioned. The side alleys and passages are Tudor in appearance, twisting out of view to an unknown end. It looks like a nice place to stop in and do some shopping. I make a mental note to tell my parents, as they enjoy this sort of old world place. My mental note is however readable as handwriting. I have written the word 'Winchester'.'

'In my house, after being out at sea holding someone's tits and saving a child from drowning. I have murdered a person, by stabbing them through the back of the neck. A countdown begins, presumably until the authorities arrive. I assess the possible options. None of them result in anything less than me being arrested for murder. The blood is crimson and the consistency of treacle.'

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Sixty Eight

In some sort of wasteland, possibly Malton from urbandead but in reality. The buildings and general lay out of the space appears to be a grid system, dark green, crisscrossing and bisecting the land; it resembles a giant board game. The sky is muted orange, and I have a feeling there is something lurking in the increasing shadows that dusk has introduced. Someone who I am with shows me around their flat. From the window I see abandoned car parks, and in the distance lakes and mountains, though this view is partially obscured by smoke rising from refineries that seem to encircle the town. The light is falling away. No-one is on the street when I am taken to the next house. The view from the window is the other house. Each subsequent place I am shown around offers a view of the preceding property. I am caught in a loop of property viewing, with some unknown menace responsible for the trap I find myself in.

Seventy Two

'In an underground complex, all crumbling concrete and rusted stairs. There are zombies here, mouths red with blood and flesh. I pilot a small buggy, knocking many of them over, until I end up being stopped by the sheer number. I climb out but they vanish. A man in strange suit motions toward a stair case as an elephant-man-type zombie stumbles toward me. I am to fight him. I hide behind a strange wall. The zombie turns in to a gun turret which I eventually destroy.'

Seventy Four

The city has been invaded by some sort of 14th century Shogunesque army. They've taken over the giant bathhouse/restaurant, akin to the one from the film Spirited Away. We attempt to retake it by crossing a bridge, carefully balancing on taught wires [I've been playing a lot of Ghost of Tsushima], but archers lean from upstairs windows: they fire down at us, and I see bodies plunge into the river below. I try and alternative tactic for entry, taking an alleyway behind the building, but before I am able to help I become entranced by the unusual intersecting pipework that criss-crosses the space . Staring dumbly at the patterns, I hear the battle continue in the distance.

A Disintegration Loop

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