An Elegy: Old Phasmophobia
PART I: HOW DID WE GET HERE?
what was once catching ghosts with dots projectors
has been broken by obsessive posture perfectors.
if you ignore the fracturing upper vertebrae,
'it's still playable' the dc post will say.
as door physics has been elevated to reality
motion sickness beckon many a casualty.
the new characters adorn many faces,
while needless changes draw few praises.
of course the ideas and customisation were intelligent,
yet the execution of animations are just negligent.
and as they changed pure game mechanics that were not broke
their playerbase awareness has not been awoke
six years of labour have bore no fruits
please throw the update in the trash chute :D
PART II: AN IMPORTANT NOTE
most importantly, i believe is to remember
the work devs put in, they never surrender.
i thank the devs for planning the changes,
but mostly streamers who suffer through the ages
to raise awareness and feedback and caution
of all the wrists that succumb to contortion.
though there's this nagging feeling in my chest,
a voice that screams louder than all the rest.
what if this is it? our love for the game is lost
as the fearful idea begins to waft
like a fetid smell into my nasal cavity
all i can do is write this with levity.
an elegiac tone is one i will adopt with ease
as the agony of this fall continues to squeeze
at my neck with freezing hands as i ascend
into the air, exclaiming 'this must be pretend!'
we will mourn the loss of the choking collapse
or the 13 second speedup as the ghost attacks.
yet all i can do is watch and listen
of what is not our own: the final decision.
like a desperately flailing lamb ready for the slaughter
have they sacrificed the game, their very own daughter?
the secular prayer has spoken: the pastoral vision disillusioned
will you help while phasmo's fragile skin has bruised and contusioned?
ghosts tread the halls, sombre and quiet
as multiplayer lobbies cease to riot
tombstones scattered, brutal and scarred
all i can do is gaze helplessly upon a graveyard
all i can do is ask silently,
clasping my hands to the god almighty
"what sin have i committed?
what charges haven't been omitted?
if this is this the world we've grown to love,
why must i watch it fall from grace like a wailing dove?"
by feelingfantasticforever on Tumblr