A sprawling, unfinished false document project which could have been (and could still be??) either a book, a zine series, or a podcast. The story of a fictitious video game development house, Disenchantment Games, told through descriptions of roughly a hundred different games, and excerpts from interviews, strategy guides, and anything else I felt like doing a meticulous pastiche of.

My feelings on it now: coming up with all the fake game ideas — the bizarre glitches, the attempts at cashing in on gaming fads and trends, the barely-concealed agendas and vendettas — was a lot of fun and immensely satisfying. Putting it into prose was hell and I can't revisit the project until I solve that problem. It feels as if the only way to do it, whether written or spoken, is to play it absolutely deadpan, make it tonally indistinguishable from a roughly equivalent true story, but the trouble is: I think I hate doing that now. Turning these hilarious tales of escalating absurdity into something "convincing" felt like a joyless circus act, technically impressive but spiritually draining.

I'd love to find a way back to it though! And I've just read the Disenchantment Swansea chapter again for the first time in over a year and and I'm really proud of it: Tristan and Jannik


I interviewed Wild Beasts singer/guitarist Hayden Thorpe for Fasterlouder in 2016.


As I was just saying: I'm a little insecure about my formal writing "voice". I've written short essays to read aloud at the National Young Writers Festival that I would have hesitated to publish in print. I'm comfortable covering topics at great length on Twitter that would spook me in a less casual implied context, all laid out in paragraphs with correct punctuation, instead of in a crowded procrastination zone, with my face next to every sentence and a thousand other voices buzzing through the gaps.

But I have a plan to overcome this weakness! And guess what: you're reading it right now.