Discover the Poetic End of the World in D∙I∙V∙I∙N∙E∙R
There are moments in our lives that we will never forget — stories that will remain in our minds so that we may tell them to the next generation. “I remember where I was when Kennedy was assassinated.” “I remember where I was when Michael Jackson died.” While some events of this type have occurred within my lifetime, there is one memory that may never be passed on. I remember where I was when I learned about the end of the world.
“an ocular sun – a half other red”
I was up way past the time I should have been. It wasn’t uncommon for my average week, but something about the night felt very unnatural. The shipping facility next door was dead silent. None of the lights from my electronics were illuminating the room the same way that kept me awake when I attempted to sleep. Darkness was a force, evoking crippling fear inside of the deepest crevices of my mind. It felt like something was there in the room with me, and after lying still for a bit I realized that playing unconscious was only going to prolong my inevitable rise. I got up, and what was displayed in front of me felt like a horror fantasy.
“music that sounds like the debt of another”
Candles are aligned in a very specific order along the wall while still giving off the look of being spread at random. They vary in size, some being wider, others being taller. They lit aflame all at once, a spectral circle formed on the floor, and slowly a translucent deity materialized, rising from the ground.
“ground littered with organs left behind in the rise”
If any of this appeals to your senses then you may want to check out D∙I∙V∙I∙N∙E∙R. For those who may not have the skill to write a poem about the impending doom named future, or if you just want to play with different combinations of shapes to create prose, this may be appealing. D∙I∙V∙I∙N∙E∙R is a poetry generator created by Videodante for the Global Game Jam 2016 with the theme of ritual. Players choose three different items from a group of items, ranging from a cigarette to a crow’s feather, then submit them to the diviner to see visions of the future in unsettling poetry form.
Do not delay, fate does not wait for lost time.