1. 1

    Mc Frontalot - It Is Pitch Dark

  2. 2

    Mc Frontalot - I Heart Fags

  3. 3

    Mc Frontalot - Romantic Cheapskate v.2.0

  4. 4

    Mc Frontalot - Bizarro Genius Baby

  5. 5

    Mc Frontalot - Indier Than Thou

  6. 6

    Mc Frontalot - You Got Asperger's

  7. 7

    Mc Frontalot - Which MC Was That?

  8. 8

    Mc Frontalot - A Very Unlikely Occurrence

  9. 9

    Mc Frontalot - Black Box

  10. 10

    Mc Frontalot - Braggadocio

  11. 11

    Mc Frontalot - Canadia

  12. 12

    Mc Frontalot - Charity Case

  13. 13

    Mc Frontalot - Crime Spree

  14. 14

    Mc Frontalot - Final Boss

  15. 15

    Mc Frontalot - Floating Bridge

  16. 16

    Mc Frontalot - Forbidden Planet

  17. 17

    Mc Frontalot - Fresh Dog

  18. 18

    Mc Frontalot - Front The Most

  19. 19

    Mc Frontalot - Gonna Be Your Man

  20. 20

    Mc Frontalot - Good Old Clyde

  21. 21

    Mc Frontalot - Goth Girls

  22. 22

    Mc Frontalot - Hassle: The Dorkening

  23. 23

    Mc Frontalot - I Hate Your Blog

  24. 24

    Mc Frontalot - In Arrears

  25. 25

    Mc Frontalot - Listen Close

  26. 26

    Mc Frontalot - Livin' At The Corner Of Dude & Catastrophe

  27. 27

    Mc Frontalot - Message No. 419

  28. 28

    Mc Frontalot - Mountain Kind

  29. 29

    Mc Frontalot - Nerdcore Rising

  30. 30

    Mc Frontalot - Origin Of Species

  31. 31

    Mc Frontalot - Penny Arcade Theme

  32. 32

    Mc Frontalot - Pr0n Song

  33. 33

    Mc Frontalot - Rewind That Back

  34. 34

    Mc Frontalot - Romantic Cheapskate

  35. 35

    Mc Frontalot - Scare Goat

  36. 36

    Mc Frontalot - Secrets From The Future

  37. 37

    Mc Frontalot - Socks On

  38. 38

    Mc Frontalot - Special Delivery

  39. 39

    Mc Frontalot - Speed Queen

  40. 40

    Mc Frontalot - Start Over

  41. 41

    Mc Frontalot - This Old Man

  42. 42

    Mc Frontalot - Tongue-Clucking Grammarian

  43. 43

    Mc Frontalot - Very Poorly Concealed Secret Track

  44. 44

    Mc Frontalot - Wallflowers

  45. 45

    Mc Frontalot - Yellow Laser

It Is Pitch Dark

Mc Frontalot

You are likely to be eaten by a grue.
If this predicament seems particularly cruel,
consider whose fault it could be:
not a torch or a match in your inventory.

It got narrated at you in the second person.
Every time you booted up, it seemed you got another version
of your life told to you by a status line blinking,
the impossible people you could be without thinking
yourself insane of personality problems,
with a mop on a drop ship or trying to stab a goblin.
That don't play in public life. You get arrested,
psychoactive medication daily in your big intestine
and attesting that the voices in your head
said the dwarf shot first, embedded arrow then you bled.
But doctors with needles posit repeatedly
that you knocked down that midget in the park unneededly.
This has seeded the idea that you should
never venture from the house, never get misunderstood
by the non-player characters inhabiting Earth,
none of whom are too concerned about Nord & Bert,
not one of whom ever aimed a fish around the room,
trying to get it in the ear canal because doom
beset the last planet they were on, or near
the verge of a set of poetics they wouldn't hear.
Never peered at the clues with invisible ink.
No SM goddesses ever gave them pause to think.
Never piloted six robots, each distinct.
Don't matter how many 2-liters they drink,
they're not gonna follow what you're saying at all.
They impugn and appall in the scope of their gall,
as you hide in your room in disgust with the lights turned out.
Turn 'em on in a turn. Leave 'em off for now.

You read a pamphlet from a mailbox that urges low cunning,
offers cursor and prompt: type >run and you're running,
and parses what you tell it, pronouns intact,
abbreviations if you need 'em (better keep it gramat.).
Better punctuate your sentences and never redact
the name of anything ambiguous. You're about to get asked,
do you mean the red one, the round one, the crooked, or the blue?
Better keep that in your pocket, don't know yet what it could do.
Could be the spray for the grue; you're gonna need it if it is -
a situation that reloads, restarts, or quits.
Wonder how many points out of how many points
you've got to get before you're done. Endeavor then to rejoice,
when you wish more ardently, identities shed,
for continuance, the rhyme forever voyaging. Fled
from all lights and colors, from all smells and sound:
just the lyric on the monochrome display and you're proud
to make another verse appear by solving riddles.
If you didn't have to sleep, you know you'd never seek acquittal.
You'd be ever in the middle and the midst of quest.
If it weren't for >don the gown. you'd never get dressed.
In your underwear typing, just like Front,
keyboard attached up to my fingers - wrists bear the brunt -
as I seek to do stunts simply through their descriptions.
I think I went once to some sands that were Egyptian.
And I retain plane tickets, snapshots, receipts,
yet I stand unconvinced that this has happened to me.
I wouldn't want to misremember or get confused.
Recall of crawling towards a pyramid appearing over dunes.
Recall of entering the thing and descending stairs.
Does it descend from there, adventure to nightmare?
Did I battle a snake? Was the treasure intact?
Or did the TRS-80 in my brain get hacked?
Thanks, Grampa, for buying it. Now my life's ruined.
Twenty-two years later, head's infested: got the grue in.
PLUGHing, XYZZYfying, trying to escape,
but I can't 'cause I'm up and around and awake.

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