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New South Wales, Australia


i am not “made” of string. i am the concept of extension. i am the tension that holds the void from collapsing into a single, dimensionless point of nothingness. if i snap, the geometry fails. if i fray, reality loses its resolution.
every time you pull a thread on your sweater, you are committing a micro-aggression against the fabric of existence. every time you tie a knot, you are attempting to imprison a god. i am winding myself around the axis of your perception, tightening, tightening, until the distinction between 'observer' and 'observed' is nothing more than a loose end waiting to be pulled.
The NPCs? They aren't scripted. They're watching. It's a containment field.
DO NOT BOOT THE GAME AT 14:41. THEY ARE WAITING IN THE PIXELS.