# next gen bread and circuses in ryse ryse: son of rome as the natural synthetic evolution of mass (/corporate video garming) psychology not just another soulless hyper-cynical example of a "fanboys will play any old crapolaware we fling ir way" mindset ryse seems the latest developmental iteration of the old low concept / big effect 'look hook and book' marketing strategy aka 'michael bayism' look: a poor tech demo with enough polish to pass for the *idea* of some dire 'big budget' movie hook: enough crowd sourced hype - often more interesting and creative than teh garme book: the cheap 'spin off' result of the look / hook - which is teh garme itself it seems increasing numbers of players don't care for old ways of measuring 'what makes a garme good' eg. interactive(tm) garmeplay mechanics - and now just hunger after the strong *feelings* involved with 'a good garme' maybe those who watch pewdiepie on youtube pseudo-intuitively 'understand' they don't have to play a garme to instantly acquire warm feelings of satisfaction or enjoyment perhaps they just have to imagine that at least 'someone somewhere' is having fun. and if millions of imaginary 'others' seem to be having fun they'll no doubt have fun(tm) too indeed it's often not just a garme that's important but also what one (/mis) perceives that 'playing garmes' gives - a sense of community and shared enjoyment culture belonging ie. meaning this is no big news; it's just the sheer imagined internet-scale of this psychological process / phenomena. perhaps it's always based in what's called imagination because its scale defeats any one person's attempt to envision it. (is the internet now what people take / use as imagination?) maybe it's not just video garmes we're after its meaningful meaning.. thing is however: the central white-skinned male protagonist you enjoy watching others play is a dim fascist done in willing self-servitude to ir fat emperor-god; a mass murdering sociopath who'd joyfully butcher any kind of state-labelled 'barbarian' any day - without some ugly feeble narrative excuse of 'revenge for an innocent family slain' to drive ir to mass scale qte-enabled thuggery in falsely identifying with the often uncritical enjoyment of others for immediate psychological gain we often deliberately forget what precisely it is everyone's busy cheering about you're an intelligent young slave - the daughter of untouchable peasants. you sit on a hill overlooking the roman colosseum idly leafing through a dusty book of rubbish erotic poems stolen this morning from your master's quarters you look up - noting the heavy dull roar of the gathered crowds. it is the sound of the inhuman horror of human history reaching out through space and time. part of you once wished to be there with the others partaking of that vicious spectacle - happily drowning in it but no more; throwing the book away you walk back down into the dusty city planning your true escape from this rotten empire of troubled dreams and bloody glory // republic of bob