A meditation on memory and identity that cleverly taps into our emotions to make our experience of the world the playing field. A reflective amnesia game that foregrounds the quiet exploration of self.

Glitch Iteration immediately starts building a world before any of the characters can figure out who they are or what's going on. Actually, that's kind of the point. This is not so much a game, as a game coupled with a whole new worldview for public spaces. It does what freeform does best: transform our bodies in spaces into things of anxiety and wonder.

Glitch Iteration not just embraces the contest challenge of "must be playable in public" but transforms public space into a weird wonderland where every stranger, and every contour in the landscape, is suddenly part of your collaborative machine-ghost. It's elegant and beautiful. Underneath its sci-fi trappings it is a game about memory and loss and ethics and, possibly, regret.

Jackson Tegu's game flattened us all with its ability to so elegantly tackle the issues of identity and meaning while harnessing a public space for play. Technological, transhuman, and boggling in its layers, the game is beautiful and vivid and like nothing we've ever seen before.

En bulgarsk bedstefar genforenes med sit barnebarn i denne smukke fortælling, som gemmer på store tematikker om et stolt, men fattigt land, generationskløfter og familiekærlighed. På trods af scenariets stramme styring og mange fortælleregler er det ene og alene spillernes historie hele vejen igennem.

Det er et utrolig smukt scenarie, som med nådesløse designvalg formår at fortælle historien om et land i eksistentiel krise. Gennem sarte og smukke scener bliver bedstefarens kærlighed instrumentel for den nære fortælling, som bringes til et gribende klimaks.