Interlude: Goose
Exit Depression Stage Left, Pursued by a Goose.
During my social media break, I’ve had several strange diversions. That’s part of why I wanted a break — it’s very easy to get into the scroll-lull and forget some of the wonders in the world around me. I’ve also been more than a little bit depressed, and that tends to make me retreat into my shell even more than my usual status as resident hermit.
One of my obsessions in my down time (that’s a clever play on words, as not only am I not doing a bunch, but I’m also depressed) has been with geese.
It started with me finally playing “Untitled Goose Game.” This game was a huge sensation back in the days of 2019, but I didn’t get a chance to sit down and play it until a month or so ago, and it tipped me into a slight obsession.
In the game, you play a goose. As someone who was a runner in addition to having spent a lot of time where geese hang out — geese are …
Well, they choose violence.
The goose main character in Untitled Goose Game is no different. On its website, the game is described as “It is a lovely morning in the village and you are a horrible goose.”
Usually when I play a game I try to be an absolute gem of a person. The sort of good person that is barely allowed in this world. It’s my way of escape so that I can be the best sort of person I’d like to be — but that’s not the point of “Untitled Goose Game,” where the best sort of goose to be is absolutely unhinged.
The mechanics of Untitled Goose Game is simple — you get a handwritten list of things to do, all aimed at being a big ol’ jerk to the townsfolk in a simple little village — and it is DELIGHTFUL.
Did I have to honk every couple of seconds in glee as the goose? No. Did I? You betcha. I even played out one of my own nightmares when, as the goose, I stole that kid’s glasses.
It was a relatively quick game to finish but there are other objectives I wish to fill, and every time I sit down to play it’s great to just let loose an incredible honk. The goose’s feet sometimes make a satisfying ‘plap plap plap’ sound as I run to cause havoc. There’s something inherently funny in the humans reacting in frustration at my goosey rampage. I was particularly delighted, in one section, to steal all of a man’s things and have them just out of his reach.
Was it necessary to complete the game? Nope. Did I enjoy every challenging second? You bet!
Soon I was sending goose memes to people throughout the day in texts or in Discord (I quit LinkedIn, Twitter, Instagram, Threads, and most other social media, but I still cling to Youtube, Discord, and Medium, apparently). Whenever I was about to let loose on a tirade about some subject I was obsessed with, it would be this one.
To Darren, enduring bad days at the store, he would frequently receive this one.
Goose memes became a way for me to communicate with people when I otherwise wouldn’t have made the effort. Depression is a hell of a thing, and the goose gave me a way to goose-rage against it.
A couple of weeks after I finished the goose game, my D&D group (now named ‘The A-Team’) needed a DM for a one-page game. I sent a large selection over (something like 25 different possibilities). I don’t know why they chose it, but in a moment of the funny synchronicity of life, they chose Urisdice’s “Clumsy Adorable Anti-Capitalist Penguins vs. Business Geese”. But, there was a twist. The players elected to play as the business geese instead, because ‘the penguins seem mean.’
Well, specifically, one player — the only one who voted — selected to play as the geese which meant that was the way it would go. I spent the next few days strategizing how I would change the game. I made the geese clumsy (they are), but also having a ‘horrible’ meter. I changed the story that they were protecting the Ivory Tower. I created maps, and then as we played, a whimsical tale of how the geese protected the golden egg-laying goose from those mean anti-capitalist penguins formed.
They fought revolutionary penguins. They uncovered a penguin plot to tumble the ivory tower from within (Damn You, Trevor) by searching desk drawers. They fought penguins who could photocopy themselves, and took revenge on the avian form of some of their real-life nemeses. Nemesi? Nemeseses?
It was hilarious.
Slowly the depressive episode started to creep away. Maybe it was chased away by a goose. I finally felt well enough to start making things again, and I am making myself some goose-inspired fingerless mitts for next winter. I felt as if perhaps that was the largest amount of goose a life could get for a while.
That was until I read about giga goose.
That’s right, giga goose. This 500 pound waterfowl called Australia home back in its day.
Can you imagine a 500 pound goose? I have been utterly dominated by geese far smaller.
I now, suddenly, want to watch a movie called Goosezilla.