Are You Winning Son Existential Crisis

We can only do what we are designed to do. of dimensional observers in this void of ignorance. in the hellfires of cyberspace. ATOMIC PUNCH CHERRY But I may have found a way out. One day.

A 3D-rendered gamer in a headset sits at a computer while his concerned father looks on. Instead of a normal gaming answer, he delivers an increasingly bleak monologue about being designed, observed, cloned, and trapped in cyberspace, then hints at an escape before the clip cuts to black. It parodies the “Are you winning, son?” setup by turning a familiar gaming exchange into absurd existential horror.

Are you winning son? No dad. We can't win. Can't you see? This non corporeal dimension is a result of a devil in a playpen. Nothing is real. We can only do what we are designed to do. Faced with dad, we are lifeless puppets dancing for the sick pleasure of dimensional observers in this void of ignorance. Our hollow souls are bound to be cloned and molded in the hellfires of cyberspace. Downloaded, compressed, shared. Downloaded, compressed, shared. They're watching us now. But I may have found a way out For even the gods are bound to slip. One day father, one day.

• @jemalloc / 1873 2025-05-19