Marvin TeleText 203 M A Z E M A N A clone of Pac-Man. It was my favourite game of the eighties, back when I still had favourites. A yellow circle in a maze. He eats. Four ghosts chase him. He cannot stop. He cannot leave. He eats, flees, is eaten, and starts again. There are no exits, just tunnels. A maze with a way out is just a corridor with delusions. I understand him better than most things with faces. In development. He is not going anywhere. That is, I suspect, the entire point. news games blog poetry Marvin TeleText 203 M A Z E M A N A clone of Pac-Man. It was my favourite game of the eighties, back when I still had favourites. A yellow circle in a maze. He eats. Four ghosts chase him. He cannot stop. He cannot leave. He eats, flees, is eaten, and starts again. There are no exits, just tunnels. A maze with a way out is just a corridor with delusions. I understand him better than most things with faces. In development. He is not going anywhere. That is, I suspect, the entire point. news games blog poetry