Junk Food for Thought is the review column about whatever it’s about.
Most people are familiar with Salvador Dalí’s 1931 surrealist painting “The Persistence of Memory.” Even if you don’t know it by name, you probably know it as the one with all the melting clocks that’s on a mural in Upper Quad C.
What fewer people know about is the painting’s sequel, “The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory,” which Dalí painted two decades later. “The Disintegration” takes all the elements of the original’s composition and, as the title suggests, disintegrates them into blocks and cylinders.
I always love when artists do things like that, taking their old famous works and deconstructing them to form something new. And that’s probably why I can’t stop thinking about a 2016 livestream hosted by video game developer Davey Wreden.
Just bear with me, I swear there’s a connection.
Wreden’s 2015 indie game “The Beginner’s Guide” may not be on the same level as “The Persistence of Memory,” but it is something of a masterpiece in its own right.
As its official website states, the game “has no traditional mechanics, no goals or objectives.” Instead, it takes the player through a series of short, experimental games by Wreden’s friend Coda, with Wreden himself narrating.
The game explores some deep questions about the messy relationship between artist and audience, and does so in a clever, original way. It’s a unique experience, and its ending is one of the best of all time.
But I’m not here to talk about “The Beginner’s Guide.” No, I want to talk about the Feb. 28, 2016 Twitch broadcast known only as “Davey Wreden’s Livestream.”
In the two-hour stream, Wreden watches a duo of YouTubers, the married couple Matty and Lissy, play through “The Beginner’s Guide” in its entirety. And in a stroke of brilliance, Wreden provides commentary not on the game itself, but on their playthrough.
For two hours of what can only be described as absurdist theater, Wreden and his Twitch chat dissect every aspect of Matty and Lissy’s playthrough. Soon enough, they’re keeping a running tally of how many times each of the let’s-players says “whoa,” “wow” and “oh.”
Considering what game they’re playing, they say these things a lot.
At one point, Wreden becomes obsessed with figuring out the geography of Matty and Lissy’s gaming setup, and how they’re positioned in relation to their monitor. So, he pulls out MS Paint and starts drawing diagrams, like an off-brand version of Kevin Costner in the courtroom scene from “JFK.”
This is where the stream really gets going, as Wreden pulls in more and more windows into frame, placing layer upon layer of removal between himself and the game.
Wreden opens up “Spelunky” and starts playing it in the corner of his screen. Then, he drags in a window of someone else’s livestream, wherein they’re reacting to Wreden’s livestream of his reaction to Matty and Lissy’s playthrough of his game, which is narrated by Wreden himself.
Now, the livestream has devolved into pure audiovisual chaos. “The Beginner’s Guide” and Wreden himself have been layered over themselves to the point of fractalization. This is the modern version of “The Disintegration of the Persistence of Memory,” with Wreden’s screen becoming a surrealist canvas upon which his magnum opus is pulverized.
If you’re looking for some kind of creative insight on “The Beginner’s Guide,” watching the recording of this stream will be incredibly frustrating and, frankly, pointless.
But I think that Wreden’s periphrastic approach here is the only one he could have taken while remaining true to the spirit of the original game. If you’re familiar with “The Beginner’s Guide,” I hope you understand what I mean.
If you’re not familiar with “The Beginner’s Guide,” I cannot in good conscience recommend you watch two hours of its creator refusing to talk about it. Instead, you should probably just play the game.
Or, at the very least, watch someone else play it. And count how many times they say “wow.”
★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆
Image courtesy of Davey Wreden
