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Title: My Name is Addiction
Genre: Adventure, Casual
Cleril Calamity Studios
Cleril Calamity Studios
Release Date: 1 Aug, 2012
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My Name is Addiction.
It\u2018s not really a game but actually a statement; a critical comment on how playing with fire can get yourself some heavy 3rd degree burns in an instant. A picture that tries to siphon out your soul without filling the gap it creates.
This is the story of a broken woman, a girl so young and innocent that she wouldn\u2018t be allowed to play this game she\u2018s the protagonist of.
Cleril\u2019s My Name is Addiction may be one of the most disturbing novel ever made (it could upset some players even more than Quentin Tarantino\u2018s Super Mario Bros. or even EA\u2018s Assassin\u2018s Creed did), yet it\u2019s impossible to take your eyes off it, even though it\u2018s 4:26 am and you got to be awake in less than an hour.
Based on the 1818 novel by Mary Shelley, the book, a full-throttle, sickening mindbender, is hypnotically harrowing and very intense, an auditive, visual and spiritual plunge into the seduction and terror of substance addiction.
The lead designer interconnects the tales of fourteen desperate, outerborough urban nobody-protagonists who fall prey, in different ways, to the slavery of pornographic abuse.
A few of them are just regular weird junkies, but the novel will be best remembered for Tom Hank\u2018s role as a sad, matronly e-Sports yenta who gets hooked on pornography. Cleril, in a disturbingly virtuoso act of \u201eholy\u2665\u2665\u2665\u2665\u2665\u2665\u2665\u2665-bad trip perversity, literally turns Tom\u2018s world inside out, stealing the player\u2018s soul that has already lost its contours (but surely not its desire to be loved by some of the actors he depends on).
So much for the youth-chic glamour of pornography! Some players, and more than a few critics (specifically excluding myself), are likely to accuse My Name is Addiction of being \u201dmanipulative\u201d and of disgustingly dressing up primal kick exploitation voyeurism as regular, though beautifully drawn gutter art.
In a year, however, when America\u2018s political culture is being called on the carpet for its stupidity, violence and extremity, Cleril has made one of the rare dark-as-midnight novels that finds its very unholy essence - and, in a strange way, its sacred morality - by going \u201dway too far,\u201d by depicting the unspeakable without any kind of safety net of restraint.
As MNIA unspools, the player\u2019s dread relentlessly surges forward with some disturbing kind of cathartic and terrified amazement. Those willing to take this weird journey may feel as if they\u2019re not so much trapped as hooked - addicted to the pornographically well-drawn images that are addling the characters\u2019 brains.
This is only Cleril\u2019s second game, after The Elder Scroll V: Skyrim, the low-budget indie novelty hit of flashy, mod-infested paranoia that crashes your computer the second you start it, but as a novelmaker he has now made a dazzling, bravura leap. The developer has turned his style into a powerfully unsettling style of freakout sensuality, complete with player-affecting hallucinations, nerve-twitching spatial-temporal back-and-forths, terribly stroboscopic montages of ritual porn abuse and a clinical shock-cut intensity that makes you feel as if Tom Hank\u2019s sick psyches had merged with your own.
Cleril was recently hired to write the script for the fourty-sixth Call of Duty script; if he\u2018s able to bring anything in that approaches this level of creative ferocity to the reimagination of that terribly overrated series, he could help reenergize mainstream shooters. Well, at least until you beat the campaign again and are now yelling at innocent children playing it online.
Jessica Chestain, all sinew and pale skin as usual, inherited the role of a girl that asks you out for dinner. She\u2018s an American thrill seeker in her early 60s whose only ambition is to shoot porn as often as possible. There\u2019s an authentic scruffy anonymity to the way that Jessica and her best buddy (the player) laugh and shimmy to a techno groove as the porn gets injected as printed and shred pieces of paper into their veins, gaining a grip on their blood.
At crucial points, each of the two figures is viewed - pinned - by a fixed camera as they scramble, against a herky-jerky hand-drawn background, to escape some of their inevitable, awful destiny.
The technique may look familiar for Marvel fans, but I\u2019ve never seen it used the way that Cleril does - to suggest that the characters, through porn, are completely severed from their very identities, to the point that they appear to be surveying their very own self destruction, as if they were players in a video game themselves.
My Name is Addiction may be the first novel to ever fully capture the way that porn can disassociate us from ourselves.
It\u2019s that perception that powers the extraordinary tale of the player\u2019s grandmother, Tom Hanks. Eager to fit into his old captain\u2018s uniform, the one his Somalian pirate mooned over in one of his first games, Tom uses a regular smartphone that offers endless amounts of porn, and the tangled power surge of kinky pictures and relaxing deviantart images begins to interact with his loves and desires, his fixation on playing crap roles in bad movies, his habitual staring at a telephone for no reason at all. The spiral of surreal hypothermia becomes almost too much to bear. Yet Hanks, in a fearless performance, never lets us forget how deeply his porn addiction is rooted in the piercing cul-de-sac of his loneliness as an actor.
Random toy stores in line at LA\u2019s boardwalk, baiting passersby into pushing luck for cheap stuffed toys. On midways, delusion is playfully peddled for profit.
Visions of luxury become inescapable nightmares of insatiable itches - to be aroused, satisfied, famous, feared. MNIA glamorizes nothing en route to a near-nauseating finale, which feels like a rollercoaster car hitched off the track and hurtled into hell\u2019s depths.
Yet for the game\u2018s conclusive hellfire, it\u2019s a midpoint scene extinguishing Tom\u2018s flickering flame of happiness that crushes the most. In a heartbreaking monologue, the player\u2019s very own voice, secretly recorded by hacking his phone, composure and will crumble as he croaks, \u201cThis game is so damn weird,\u201d to himself.
It\u2019s then that a player loses his mind forever - powerless to pull himself back from the brink of self-destruction, let alone anyone else.
A decade later, and now likely for all time, \u201cMy Name is Addiction\u201d still follows through with full force on its cautionary stomach punch.
Does the novel go too far? In the final scene of devastation, which offers a total of one out of seven endings, the player can carefully observe their character\u2019s horrific fates; Cleril lays on his drawn art with didactic brutality.
In at least one of these endings, however, the novel attains a kind of queasy greatness: We watch as Tom Hanks opens up another tab on his browser, starting a last, peaceful porn and his willing dehumanization is dramatized in discreet flash cuts, with a present-tense nightmare intimacy that leaves us absolutely speechless.
At that moment, the player, once alive, feels that he himself was the protagonist with the many names, he who has now abandoned the dream of himself for the mere illusion that is pornography.
My Name is Addiciton, at times very disturbing and always intense, offers its own acid trip for players and is a first-hand look at a huge number of people who become trapped by their own, self-crafted hell.
Let your sorrows be washed away by the flood of informaton available at your finger tips. Those intense, soul stealing videos of lust will surely take you back to your own self; you just have to, for the last time in your life, open up\u2665\u2665\u2665\u2665\u2665\u2665\u2665\u2665\u2665
Welcome to your hell.
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