Pathologisation

The doctor looks up from his notepad to ADDRESS you. He stares |charged>[THROUGH] you before finally settling on your DRY and irritated eyes. He looks a bit put off by your appearance today. <div class="dialogue">So. Have you managed to take your medication? //he finally asks.//</div> Do you tell him the [[GP Confess<-truth]] or would you rather [[GP Lie<-lie]] and fake OBEDIENCE?

You were on Olanzapine 10mg AFTER Seroquel 50mg didn't CUT it, before that the SSRI's and DOWNers. You've been taking pills WITHOUT question for years. They're ALL the same now. You should return to the present — the [[GP Office 1<-doctor]] might be READY. Or you could [[GP Daydream<-REFLECT]] a bit longer.

<div class="dialogue">I don't like them. I HAD to stop, //you exPLAIN to the doctor.//</div> He nods. It's noble that you would ADMIT that. <div class="dialogue">Well. OK. I see. Let's try something else then if YOU won't try them properly.</div> [[New Medication<-accept]] or [[Car Park<-escape]].

<div class="dialogue">I... I... I've been TAKING it... everyDAY, like you said //you dribble out.//</div> You sound like a fool. The doctor smirks in response. Even he can SEE it. He sighs, <div class="dialogue">Lets try this again...</div> You look at the door. You could [[Car Park<-leave]] the appointment now or [[GP Reassess<-subsist]] the nightmare.

The doctor coughs somewhere in the background. <div class="dialogue">Hello? Are you there? //he asks.//</div> His far away. You can't find the words or the way back. [[GP Office 1<-RETURN]] to the present or keep [[Exeloo<-floating]] away.

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<img class="wk-title-svg" src="./images/ascii_title.svg" alt="Pathologisation"> <div class="wk-block"><div class="wk-author"><span class="wk-author-name"><a class="game-link" href="https://ryu-ichii.github.io/" target="_blank">Ryu Konrad</a></span></div><div class="wk-info">eLiterature work created for Digital Writing, RMIT (2026).</div><div class="wk-desc">Pathologisation — psychosis, insatiability and uncertainty within the structures and routines of modernity. A simulation of a relentless mess of noise and impossibility, where reality crumbles under the weight of the mind. Pathologisation attempts to systemise the absurd and the arbitrary — it looks for meaning where there is none.</div></div> <div class="wk-github"><a class="game-link" href="https://github.com/ryu-ichii" target="_blank">GitHub</a></div> <div class="title-actions"><span class="start-link">[[GP Reception<-Start]]</span><div class="fullscreen-btn">(link: "Fullscreen")[<script>document.documentElement.requestFullscreen();</script>]</div></div>

(set: $crbCount to 0)Welcome to the WAITing area. Your palms are wet, and your HEAD throbs but you should proceed into your appointment shortly. You may have SOME time to [[GP Reflection<-reflect]] on things before your appointment. Or you could just sit here and [[GP Office 1<-wait]] to go IN.

<div class="dialogue">OK. Look. Let's try you on something else. A diffERENT pill //he says.//</div> He types and CLICKS. He CHEWS his lips and hums softly. Is he GOOGLING what to give you? He retrieves a prescription sheet from the printer TRAY and hands it to you. <div class="dialogue">Ok. Twice a day, morning and before bed.</div> [[Pharmacy<-Accept]] the pills or at LEAST [[Home<-pretend]] TO accept. (track: 'printer', 'seek', 3)

You stagger out of the building in a hurry. The sunlight flicks off the 3M carpark lines and BLINDS you. It's HOT and bright. You can't think. You should get a drink and sit in the [[park->Park Encounter]] for a while.

<div class="dialogue">So which is it MATE? //he asks.//</div> He sits forward in his chair and adjusts his arse as his RIGHT eyelid twitches at you. <div class="dialogue">I don't want to need to have you |charged>[RESTRAINED].</div> What the hell is he ON about? You might be hearing things again. Is it [[Psych Ward<-real]]? Or are you just [[Train<-tripping]] OUT.

You rip the phone up. You cut your hands on it, stomp ON it, you DESTROY IT. and catch sight of yourself in the mirror. You LOOK disgusting. YOU stare deep into your sunken, vacant eyes for an agonising moment. (live: 15s)[(goto: (either: "GP Office 2", "Psych Ward"))]

You find a spot on a bench. A STUNG out junkie stumbles through the playground making a startling SERIES of guttural noises. Her eyes meet yours as you sit there minding your business. The junkie SEEMS pleased to see you and CREEPS up to you in |charged>[search] of conversation. Do you [[Park Psychosis<-talk]] with the junkie OR [[Dream<-leave]] briskly and avoid the FORCED interaction.

My body is in revolt against itself, just existing—walking, seeing, breathing—is the most punishing thing I have ever done. Who or what is going to save me? |smooth1>[ ] |smooth2>[ ] |smooth3>[ ] |smooth4>[ ] |smooth5>[(link-replace: (either: "leave?", "abuse THEM?", "TAKE a swing?", "would YOU lilke to stop?", "need HELP"))[(either: "TOUGH it out mate", "yeah GOOD LUCk LOL", "might NEED a doctor", "ok.", "its not REAL anway")]] (live: 15s)[(goto: (either: "GP Office 2", "Psych Ward"))]

There seems to be a message spanning several reels. A message directed at you. A monotone woman. Your finger bleeds from a piece of glass. The DEAD pixels glisten at you. (live: 10s)[(goto: (either: "GP Office 2", "Complete Reality Breakdown 1"))]

You're back. The doctor seems to have AGED: the crinkles and LUMPS on his face form a DERANGED and spiteful grin. YOU can't remember if you |charged>[TOOK] the pills or not. What medication was it? Which one for fucks sake? <div class="dialogue">I trust you've taken your pills this time? //he asks//</div> This doctor is a pill-FIEND. You consider telling him to and his pills to [[GP Office 2 Abuse<-fuck up]] and die, or playing it safer and admitting you [[GP Office 2 Unsure<-don't remember]] shit.

The doctor’s face has boils that are up to 10 centimetres wide. His eyes bulge out their UNDERSIZED socket. Is the doctor OK? He sneers as he looks you up and down. The VICIOUS fuck is trying to kill you. He’s been watching you through your PHONE and dropping PILLS down your throat while you SLEEP. Do you [[GP Office 3 Kill<-kill]] him or just [[GP Office 3 Scream<-scream]].

YOU can’t move. There’s something in the AIR, in the WALLS, in your ears. Harsh, FLUROESCENT light blinds your eyes and MIND. People SCREAM and murmur unintelligle NONsense. It’s HELL on earth. DOCTORS fill the rooms and halls. One of them approaches you. <div class="dialogue">Why don't we DO your intake assessment //he says.//</div> You could try [[Psych Ward Escape<-escape]] or [[Psych Ward Stay<-stay]] and you MIGHT be cured.

You LURCH at the concentrated wafts of defecation and bad hygiene. The monoTONE voice of knowing directs YOU like a fool. THere is an UNDERlying sadness to the music. The scribbles of other FOOLS are sprawled across the walls. SHIT and piss cover everything. Needles topple out the syringe DISPOSAL onTO the floor. Do you watch [[Phone Toilet<-reels]] or [[Exeloo Episode<-ponder]] silently as YOU shit

On your PHONE the world is even SCARIER than the dreams. You FLICK through the videos like a machine in an exeriment. The videos don’t make sense. From a livestreamed beHEADING to a Yank fanning stacks of |charged>[CASH]. Then a hyper-AGGRESSIVE fitness coach SCREAMS. It’s all random and INtangible. You should get OFF before it becomes TOO Much. [[Cigarette<-Get OFF]] or [[Phone Psychosis<-keep LOOking]] for answers.

PINCHED, DONE over, locked. It's not easy to get in HERE as a BLITHERING idioT. THE colours of the walls, THE sullEN faces, the BUILDING for FUCKS SAKE. These are not my people, YOU think. Try [[Jail Escape<-escaping]] or [[Jail Stay<-stay]] if you don't have the GUTS.

Back home in your bed, YOUR apartment, YOU dream. The MIND trawls experience for PATTERNS. You're on a train. But its not a REAL train. A team of scientists |charged>[WATCH] you from behind the windows. They have TVs with live footage of the carriage. It's a laboratory NOT a train. The train STOPS. THOUSANDS of little insects SWARM the carriage and you wake up. Is there [[GP Office 2<-MEANING]] and sense to it or does it mean [[Phone<-nothing]]?

Back in your low-rent apartment you can't sleep. The walls groans and creak. The walls hum with electricity. It's driving you |charged>[INSANE]. Up the wall. Just rolling around and AROUND and thinking, hearing, seeing. Just BREATHING is pissing you OFF. You could hit up the servo [[Servo<-servo]] or [[Insomnia<-hope]] you pass out soon.

It's TIME to COP your REup. Time for another round of pills. YOU get a depraved satisfaction out of seeing the new LABEL for your pills. THE brand name the chemical COMPOSition. It gives you REASON to feel nice. THE pharmacist raises his eyeBROWs when he reads the presription. DO you take one [[right->Dream]] away, or [[save->City Transit]] one FOR later.

The phone only stifles your experience on the toilet. You put it down on the BACTERIA laden floor of the Exeloo. What it's for anymore? You DON't know, you're only torturing yourself. A UNKNOWN number starts calling. THAT'S done it. HOPELESS and desperate, you clasp for it to smash it up. Or should you? [[Mirror<-Smash it]] or [[Insomnia<-STAY UP]]

You can't REMEMBER what you're at the SERVO for but HERE you are. Like a MOTH to the kitchen light. You walk slow and LOOK: the shiny FLOOR, the GLOSSY packets, bottles, cans — they all PROMISE something. A way OUT. They give cause for HOPE. Huh? Maybe have a [[Cigarette<-CIGGIE]] or [[City Dissociation<-WALK]] around some more.

INhale, exHALe. Fat puffs of SMOKE. Your body trembles as the smoke HITs your tonsils on the WAY in and out. You gag on the nasty chop-CHOP cigarette BEFORE coughing UP a mouthful of BLACK and bloody phlegm. You should [[Night Walk<-FIND]] a doctor or do [[Train<-WHATEVER]]. All gooD.

Everyone’s PACKED together — jammed and ARRANGED towards their destination. They don’t LOOK happy. A misery made for jails and institutions seems to strangle the NECKS of the carriage. The brakes SQUEAL. But everything goes on the SAME. It doesn’t make SENSE. None of it. How is everyone so CALM. Everyone on this carriage has somewhere to BE. Do YOU? [[Drugs<-YES]] or [[Psych Ward<-NO]]?

<div class="dialogue">Fuck your PILLS and fuck you. //you shout.//</div> Another wave grabs HOLD of you as the doctor hesitates for a moment. <div class="dialogue">HOLLOW and pathetic piece of shit. MisDIAGNOSING fuckbag. Big Pharma BOOTlicker.</div> You CATCH yourself before it DESCENDS further. The doctor doesn't respond. He retrieves a vial and SYRINGE. You need to be QUICK: [[Elevator<-get out]] or [[Servo<-COP]] the injection.

smooth1: I wrap the belt around my bicep and rip the ORANGE cap off like I have a rare and precious ANTIDOTE. In some way I do. | If you haven’t got the BALLS to end it you might as well finish off with some FLAIR. Only then might YOU SEE what it’s truly like. | All that time running around, shaking your arse in the face of the inevitable. What does it achieve? The world fucks us one way or another. smooth2: I WIELD the syringe with more precision and grace than those nurses at EMERGENCY, loading up and preparing my arm all in a matter of seconds before STARING into my red, sickly BLOOD on the drawback. | Every day of shooting up is another chance to escape the present situation and rise above the troubles of our intolerable and SENSELESS reality. | The night will find you eventually, you can hide in the routine all you like before the crushing walls of contingency eventually come closing in. We all get strangled by the coarse rope of truth. smooth3: That’s the WORST part of all this — looking at your ROTTEN INSIDES. I proceed to SHOOT the counteragent down my veins. The PLUNGE is beautiful; the storm comes on like a Stravinsky SYMPHONY. | The fucking ER won’t give me SHIT. That Mr. SMITH over there is trying to KILL Me. There’s a battle between good and evil taking place out here. It’s dangerous. Can’t you see it you SILLY fuck. Can’t YOU? | None of you scum will bloody LISTEN so what's the point. I'll talk to the VOICES in my head. I won't waste another word on YOU. smooth4: It's a MESS. The whole lot of it. A SHINY mess with nothing good to COME OUT of it. Even the sparrows in the trees are SICK. | PROTECT your energy. Stick your CHEST out and fight back. Don't be a coward like the rest of them. | There's only lies, only glittery, glossy FABRICATIONS. Where is the TRUTH? The truth is PUTRID, the truth is DEATH & this is the LIE.

(set: $crbCount to $crbCount + 1)(if: $crbCount >= 3)[(live: 12s)[(goto: "GP Office Final Randomised")(stop:)]] (set: _t to (random: 1, 4)) (if: _t is 1)[NOW, For some reason you're in the GUTTER looking for cigarettes, scrambling for a WAY OUT. People step over you as you CRAWL on all fours. You CLAW desperately, pathetically for MEANING where there is NONE. There IS no structure of meaning to be found.] (if: _t is 2)[a TRAIN again. You're SICK to DEATH of trains. You KEEP getting ON them and you don't know WHY. The train horn sounds. The seats, the windows, the PASSengers all laugh. They laugh and point. Hundreds of MICE and thousands of CRICKETS flood the carriage.] (if: _t is 3)[You proceed to SHOOT the counteragent down YOUR veins. You press DOWN on the needle and InJECT the ANTIdote — the ONLY logical RESPONSE. The PLUNGE is beautiful; the RUSH, the storm comes on like a Stravinsky SYMPHONY. YOu FLOAT above the doubts.] (if: _t is 4)[YOU OFTEN get confused and think you are capable of change and CONTROL. YOU set out with big ASPIRATIONS before FALTing against the everchanging WAVES and ODDS. The world DOMINATES you not the other way round. OK?] (set: _l to (random: 1, 3)) (if: _l is 1)[[[Night Walk<-CatholicISm]] or [[Psych Ward<-methyLENEdioxypyrOvalerone]]] (if: _l is 2)[[[Drugs<-DopAmine]] or [[Theft Psychosis<-CARceral ARchipelago]]] (if: _l is 3)[[[Home<-HeteroTOPIA]] or [[GP Office 2<-Supermodernity]]]

You CAN'T strand the words together. The doctor looks disgusted as he listens to you. Even you are taken ABACK by how pathetic you sound, LABOURing to FORM a sentence. <div class="dialogue">Are you done?//he asks,//</div> as you give up. It's not too late to [[Psych Ward<-switch up]] on him or [[Train<-get out]].

A middle-AGED man drools over you as he hobbles past with his QUAD cane. A woman THINKS you're HER LONG LOST RELATIVE. IT's a joke. THIS building is not for YOU. YOU see the WORLD for what it is. [[Train<-Prove]] your sanity to the staff or [[Night Walk<-escape]].

You feel DIFFERENT. Not better. It must be the Paliperidone injections they've been shooting in your arm. It's been LAZY. It's been easy. YOU float upon WAVES of DOUBT and EAT pizza by the TV.

THE ROOM is bright and exposing. The doctor CRUMPLES his sunken face into his notebook. HE can't LOOK you in the eyes. YOU SPARK a cigarette and put your feet on his table. You've ascended. The DOCTOR's phrases and medical terminology are bouncing off you. |smooth5>[(link-replace: "Pathologise")[see YOU again SOON(live: 3s)[(stop:)(goto: "Title Screen")]]]

THE officer LETS you out for nothing. HE says nothing as he unLOCKS a corridor. What on EARTH are YOU escaping. This can't be JAIL. THIS can't be anything that remotely exists in ACTUALITY. Where to go? Who to see? Go where you [[Servo 2<-WANT]] or where you [[Home<-NEED]]?

YOU try TO WALK down the halls with PURPOSE. Like you BELONG. It's possible that YOU do. You've BEEN belted SO many times. It's weak. It's a matter of survival in HERE. Maybe you [[GP Office 3<-fight]] back or maybe you (link: "CAVE")[(goto: (either: "Complete Reality Breakdown 1", "Complete Reality Breakdown 2", "Complete Reality Breakdown 3", "Complete Reality Breakdown 4"))] to the DESIRES of idiots.

There are plenty of rooms like this, where societal disease sits and mutates out of sight. Holding cells for the ugly side of existence, where the mangled scraps are banished. |smooth1>[ ] |smooth2>[ ] |smooth3>[ ] |smooth4>[ ] |smooth5>[(link-replace: (either: "leave?", "abuse THEM?", "TAKE a swing?", "would YOU lilke to stop?", "need HELP"))[(either: "TOUGH it out mate", "yeah GOOD LUCk LOL", "might NEED a doctor", "ok.", "its not REAL anway")]] (live: 15s)[(goto: (either: "GP Office 2", "Psych Ward"))]

It's the WORST when the elevator DOORS close. The air IS tighter. The breathing of OTHERS begins to strangle YOU. It feels like someone is about to GET you. The vessel WHINES as it begins its descent. Your heartRATE and REMINDS you that you're ALIVE and vulnerable. You've got to keep going. But where? [[Night Walk<-anywhere]] or [[City Dissociation<-somewhere]]

Strange figures STALK you down the CITY streets. Tall and slender silhouettes. You GLARE back and they hide, but as soon as you WALK on you sense THEM again. You must’ve done something. They FEEL like trouble. You could try escape to a [[Train<-train]] station or IGNORE them and KEEP [[Witch Encounter<-walking]].

The LIGHTS of the city—traffic, street, store, police, crane—flicker LIKE strobe lights in your eyes and mind. They're so LOUD and garISH. Everything BEGS for our attention. Everything shiny and BRIGHT claws at your senses for perception. The city is a LIE. You need to CALM down in a new location. Walk to the [[The Faces<-bus stop]] or a different corner of [[Night Walk<-the city]].

You shout, kick and BEG for mercy. YOU whimper, you actually WHIMPER? YOU carry on like the child that can't compute before realising you can't even see HIM? The DOCTOR isn't HERE. WHY don't you [[Psych Ward<-WHIMPER]] more or grow up and [[Jail<-TWEAK]] properly?

The doctor BRACES himself as you grab a blood PRESSURE monitor and slam it into his head. You flip his desk, his monitor, printer. But he keeps coming. He keeps throwing HIMSELF at you. It looks like you're [[Jail<-fucked]].

Another DAY another bloody SERVO. More labels, and wants. It FEEls as if this can of ENERGY drink might save you from something or someone. HALF of the stuff in here could be the ANTIdote. DO you [[Theft Psychosis<-steal]] and fill up a bag or [[Night Walk<-LEAVE]] it.

not very sure of anything. | md unconscionable torture. | lg after many torturous hours. The slivers of dawn start in through the windows. | md It's tough, enduring, in a body that is in constant revolt against itself. | md It takes every bit of strength, every ounce of will to just go on. | md escape the heinous monotony for a juncture | lg It sits, in the shadows of the mind. | md

The walls of the earth seem to groan and ache too. | md You are left to face your predicament alone. | md The birds are up early just to laugh at you. | lg We exist in proximity but navigate dramatically different worlds. | md

A WITCH is following you. SHE follows you from store to store. DOWN cobbled alleys and BUSY streets. You stop and lock eyes for a moment as you turn around yourself to LOSE her. She stumbles up to you and curls her lips up into a patronising smirk. <div class="dialogue">You can't save them. They won't listen to YOU. //she whispers//</div> <div class="dialogue">You're alone.</div> [[Abuse Witch<-RESPOND]] to her or [[Ignore Witch<-ignore]] her commentary?

Rain starts in the through the CRACKS in the sky. Most obscure their faces beneath hoods and umbrellas. You let the droplets WASH over you. The rain is RELENTless. You enjoy the WAY the lights reflect off the wet BITUMEN. The wet TYRES rolling over the earth. It's nice Maybe you [[Night Walk<-SAVOUR]] the experience, maybe you get OUT of the rain and and make way for [[Train<-shelter]].

You STILL can't sleep. The birds have started up. They |charged>[LAUGH] and tweet derogatory things. CHIRPS of ridicule and judgement. It's pissing you RIGHT off. You get UP. You're staying up then. What will it be. GO [[Train<-outside]] or try your luck at the [[Phone<-phone]] again.

In a fire escape near CHINAtown you WIELD a syringe with more precision and grace than the nurses at EMERGENCY. You load UP a SHOT and prepare your forearm, all in a matter of seconds. You jab and STARE into your sickly BLOOD on the drawback. That’s the WORST part of all this — looking at your |charged>[ROTTEN] INSIDES before you send the STUFF through it. You've done it. Are you [[GP Office 3<-happy]] now or [[Smash Up<-NOT]]?

The |charged>[FACES] at the BUS stop are cold and gaunt. Even the smiles convey a sense of impending DOOM. They are not your people. Your EYES become headlights that expel your RESENTment. You CATCH yourself GROWLING and muttering. Sometimes it’s better to FACE the world in private. You should [[Witch Encounter<-walk away]] before you [[Smash Up<-slip up]].

You find a |charged>[BRICK] and LAUNCH it through a BUS with all its LIGHTS and banners. The SHINY does nothing. It fulfils NO promise and no hope. It has no ANWER for anything. It fucks you OFF. The glass EXPLODES loud, it propels and dances with great THEATRICS, scattering itself across the paveMENT. You can only stand and [[Jail<-enjoy]] the show.

STUFFING shit in your PANTS in YOUR BACKPACK and pockets. Your losing control in the store here. YOU're grabbing shit for the sake of it. WHEN are YOU gonna use 5w40 engine OIL? You DON'T own a CAR. You BETTER get OUT fast before you get PINCHED. (live: 10s)[(goto: (either: "GP Office 3", "Smash Up"))]

<div class="dialogue">Fuck OFF and die you EVIL bitch. //you yell.//</div> You yell REALLY loud. Too LOUD. Half the street turns to look at you. Their STARES, their COLD eyes of |charged>[critique] pierce through you. The witch looks like a NORMAL woman now. She looks frightened BY YOU. She quickens her PACE and leaves YOU there with your audience. [[Jail<-ARRESTED]]

Better OFF NOT engaging with HER, you think. BUT you are wrong. IGNORING her didn't fix SHIT either. SHE CACKLES as SHE TRIPS you over without TOUCHING you. The sickly woman IS a witch for CHRISTS sake. YOU see her pull a needle from her tattered grey trackies. TIME to run. To the [[Train<-station]]? Or the [[Night Walk<-alleyways]]?