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— Daily Arts Writer


Forewarning: the original version of this analysis was deleted by my drunk alter ego just last night. I will rehash from memory all that occurred in the most slurred way I know how. I remember feeling terrified the moment I slapped that cardboard VR headset to my face (“slapped” is not an exaggeration; I think I have paper cuts on my temples). I was already floating on alcohol and now everything around me was too! The next thing I noticed was how nice my character’s butt was. Some things never change, no matter how intoxicated I am. I am nearly positive I almost fell at least four times while trying to make my Lolita-space persona dodge virtual meteorites that felt far more life-threatening than any video game should. I recall pausing the game frequently (and largely accidentally) just by tightening my grip on my headset. I am totally sober now and I still don’t know how that cardboard eye-box understood what I wanted. Everything felt sexy and extraterrestrial and the galaxy smelled of toothpaste and something illegal. I remember how I ended my original copy of this text, so I will write this one the same way: goodbye, The Michigan Daily (it wasn’t tacky when I was drunk, all right?).

— Daily Arts Writer


I hate technology.

— Anay Katyal

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