TPC/PCP Dating Sim - Mage Route (Patreon)

Oh hey, you know that horrible e-celeb podcast that i'm sort of a part of some of the time maybe? The one that i never actually joined but somehow congealed around me like an unshakable fungus and sent my entire life spiraling into a twisted, toxic Twilight Zone that i can't seem to ever escape from? 

The one that i technically and unwittingly founded, and only exists in the first place because of me, and as such my name is intrinsically tied to it no matter what i do for the rest of my miserable stinking joke of a life? 

The one that siphoned all my passion, poisoned everything i ever built for myself, pigeon-holed me into a role i never wanted, and an image i never identified with, derailed my career, killed my dreams, ruined my reputation forever, turned all of my days into an endless parade of prostituted humiliation and dehumanized exploitation, consistently drags my name into retarded e-drama that i want nothing to do with and yet somehow inevitably get blamed for, never seems to pay me what i'm worth despite endlessly profiting off my ideas and comedy, recycling every funny or clever thing i say into community property to be memed into the fucking ground until it loses all semblance of humor, and is eventually either misattributed to the group as a whole, or flat-out weaponized against me by an audience with no understanding of personal boundaries, and an unhealthy parasocial obsession with whatever imagined personality their diseased minds can conjure up out of the gravely misinterpreted words and deeds of the very people they constantly scrutinize, all the while imprisoning me in the Furnace Room in the corner of the basement in the house half a block down the street from Jerry's bait shop? You know the place.

Well much like the members of the group itself, the PCP fan-community is occasionally somewhat creative and cool, when they're not actively making me homicidal. Here we have the fruits of their greatest labor, The PCP Dating Sim. Or it's slightly more accurate title, The Binding of Jess. Because if there's one thing the PCP and its fans all seem to agree on, it's that my pain, shame, and profound discomfort = good shit. Lucky me.

Apologies if I sound extra sardonic, must be all the extra cabin fever. Ever since "The New Normal" (tm) began, my sarcasm dial has been turned past "grim", and all the way up to "bitter". Curse this totally necessary and not at all retarded or pointless quarantine, which hath cast a dark shadow over my usual sunny disposition. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

Enough being cool, here's the point. I played the stinkin, stonkin, datin sim, and shockingly it isn't completely terrible. I mean yes, it is an abhorrent abomination that should never have been made, but i suppose that could be a point in its favor if you're judging it on accuracy to the source material. 

It's clear that a lot of love, attention to detail, and somehow even some talent went into this game. Everything from the music, to the backgrounds, to the menus is dripping in references of varying obscurity to the minutia of the already obscure podcast lore and our various personal canon, which i am choosing to find amusing by not thinking about it enough to be as creeped out as I obviously should be. 

I say this of course, having not yet completed my own route. So it remains to be seen whether or not i'll have to retract these statements of praise, and send in their place an envelope full of anthrax. Specifically the kind that kills you, not the kind that talks about 90s commercials on VH1. 

I have to include a picture so you get the joke. 

Look, i wasn't born yesterday. I was born in the 80s. Which makes me canonically 5 decades old. That's why I'm like this. Point being i know what you're all here for. You don't just want to see me play the PCP dating sim, you want to see Endless Jess play the Endless Jess route. 

Yeah, i hear ya. But that's like telling me to inject Scarecrow toxin into my eyeballs and ludovico myself in front of my greatest hits remixed to a soundtrack of zoomer music about "xannies". I'm sure life will find a way to get me into that torture scenario eventually but it's not something i'm eagerly rushing toward.

I went into this blind, and the route I stumbled into was that of the furtive LethalAuroraMage, who according to the keepers of lore, is sometimes a furry, sometimes a demon, and has a backstory involving gang violence, i must have missed that episode. 

You'll get the Jess route from me just as soon as i hate myself enough to finish it. I tried, but only got 5 minutes in before a screaming 1930s tornado ripped through the 4th wall of my groundskeeper shack, and a lollipop guild of funhouse mirror versions of me Cesaro-swung myself into its turbulent winds of rage, by which i was then flung outside the furthest boundaries of any known realm, where my mind and soul spent countless eons of time without time, far beyond the beyond, slowly reconnecting synaptic nerves and holding memories together with stardust-glitter glue from God's own rainy-day farts-and-craps box, until finally reclaiming consciousness in a meta-dimensional void from which i am currently writing this. Now I need time to reconstitute my physical form and anchor myself back to this layer of reality, because my world currently looks like this. 

This one's a classical reference. 

That's all you get for now. Swallow it down your content-holes for nourishment, if you never hear from me again just assume i died how I lived, surfing on a tree branch and being right about Final Fantasy 7. 

Okay, this post is too long and I hate it. Enough.