This morning I was awoken by a call from The Washington Post. It was forwarded from my work number, so at first I thought it was some east coast client waking me up. I cleared my throat and put on my client voice.

“Hi, this is Charlie?”
“Hi Charlie! This is Melissa from the Washington Post. I was wondering if I could ask you some questions?”
“Oh hi, sure. Um… what about?”
”... well, The Great Gatsby game”
“Wait, really?”

Me and my buddy Pete made this game in seclusion, fueled by Mountain Dew and Doritos and arguments about sprite counts and color pallets. Now I’m getting cold called. How did this happen? Why are so many people SO on board with a garden-variety 8-bit literary action-platformer? The internet is a giant mysterious content snowball, friends. A boundless feedback loop of ideas and jokes and porn and news. I will never understand its ways, and won’t pretend to. All I know is I keep seeing tweets that say, “Thank you, internet.” You’re welcome, you huge, beautiful weirdo.