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HANDS OF THE KILLER

clunking down armored core (1) ventilation systems into a maze of degraded histories occupied exclusively by demented post-bataillean academics & dork enlightenment freaks. wading thru the incomprehensible consumer grade detritus of the living deathspace's present-past(s) while accosted by an even more incomprehensible vision of its tirelessly bureaucratic future. spiraling into perfectly ludicrous cartoon mania before being sucked right back out of the (post-post-post-industrial) dungeon crawl quick as you arrived, back to your shitty, dingy little apartment built atop the mountain of green slime, bort dolls, and steely dan cassettes that preceded you

"to perfect murder we must create a new universe devoted exclusively toward that purpose. we must also consider the possibility that we live in it already"