An expression of your own masculinity thrown against a task your own brain will warn you against comprehending. The story is a review of what's valuable in women while your stoner friend keeps you comfortable by having no clue what's going on and you not looking into it because discussing your dreams with those you considerfriends isn't a reasonable thing in modern culture.
Gameplay wise it holds a feeling that almost exist as an inversion of what's known as the best part of Tetris. Placeing the I block in the right place, turned around, instead of working towards that feeling of accomplishment with sorting you're constantly fighting an anxiety of crumbling what's amassed and collapsing. You're not organizing the collection of blocks you're dropping, you're ordering what's there into a path you can manage with others you see as sheep comedically suffering.
It's a nightmare anon, an artfull expression of fears arranged in a way to allow the meek to experience something those who really live consider a regular aspect of life.
