I am Mayo
Available on PlayStation 4 and Vita
Last night, during the recording of our humble little PlayStation centric podcast, there were rumblings of a video game that sounded so absurd that it should be immediately passed over. We laughed, joked and generally dismissed a title that could give you a Platinum Trophy in half an hour. A title that cost a meager $0.99
This was not worthy of us to dismiss something that we hadn’t experienced first-hand, so I took it upon myself to take the financial hit and share my experience live with my comrades (and anyone that so happened to stumble upon my Twitch feed.)
It began with a simple jar of mayonnaise and a disembodied appendage, pointer finger at the ready in a backwards L formation. I gazed at the screen, unsure of what I must do.
I pressed a button and the jar was tapped. It let loose a light clinking sound akin to a container packed to the brim with near non-Newtonian liquid and vibrated in such a way that I could have almost mistaken the reaction for one of ecstasy.
Puzzled and amused, I continued to tap furiously at the jar just to see what may happen.
Filled with laughter and bemusement I tapped and tapped and watched as my PlayStation repeatedly rained trophies. It felt undeserved, yet the dopamine began to release in my brain and somehow I began to anthropomorphize this shuddering jar that responded to my near-automated touch.
With each click the jar became more human as I seemed to become less so. Time passed and I discovered that I could place an array of accessories upon the jar, such as beanie hats, guitars, moustaches and…a bikini.
I spent more time tapping a bikini clad jar of mayo on the panty crotch than I care to admit. I did this in public, violating a jar in lingerie. I began to wonder if those shudders were pleasure or revulsion.
Amidst the self reflection and new sense of awareness that I was gaining (along with a button masher’s wrist cramp) I came to realize that ‘I am Mayo’ had a story to tell.
A harrowing tale of self reflection that leads the player to the horrifying realization that what we know is not concrete, that we are perpetually existing in a comfortable sense of denial, a necessary sense of denial that cannot be broken without breaking ourselves.
I seemed to be aimlessly tapping at this jar waiting for something to happen, as if the lid would lift and I would find the meaning of life at the bottom of the condiment; which couldn’t have been any further from the truth.
I ran the gamut of the emotional spectrum trying to reach the end, from joy and laughter to sensations of shame and remorse for what I was doing. I became a soulless abuser of this jar, violently tapping with tunnel vision to remove it’s lid to feed my need for answers. I found answers…
As the lid came off and I added another platinum to my list I was left with nothing but the bleak realization that…