It was time for me to get up now, to start trying to figure out if there was some semblance of humanity left in the soulless husk I call my body. I looked away from my laptop screen and towards the door in my bedroom. I rage quit at that point, I hadn’t put enough thought into my stats or the tests I knew were coming. I can only imagine Kim’s disappointed stare at our inert body, me and Harry sharing the shame of such a ridiculous death in equal measure. Harry failed, technically, but I did too. Just as I was getting into the swing of things, though, I was killed by a chair. Being hungover IRL just makes that shame hit different. I know I’m fucked up and I know it’s my own fault. I was abused by the children at the dead body, and felt the hot shame of Kim’s pitying stare at my back. I left the hotel and found the bookshop, where I browsed the wares and pretended I was a functioning member of society. You arguably feel even more of an affinity for the dead body hanging in the tree outside, and this particular playthrough quickly left Mr. You feel an affinity with old Harry, and the deathly grimace you make in the mirror hits all too close to home as you remember catching a glimpse of yourself earlier when you were brushing your teeth. I’ve played this moment countless times before, but even leaving the room is more of a struggle when your head is really pounding.
Then, I found myself in the painterly city of Martinaise, or more specifically, a fucked up hotel room in the run down city. This was another time though, not this morning on a workday. By which I mean, I clicked on the screen randomly, groaning. For the authentic hangover experience, I randomised my stats.