"As knowledge increases, the attitude of science towards the things of the invisible world is undergoing considerable modification." - Tulpa: Thought Forms

Frequent excursions into the retro games market have left me with less and less to collect. All that remains are those holy grails, with their inflated rarity and high price tags, which my better judgement prohibits me from purchasing. I've had to broaden my collection to keep my addiction fed, venturing into the Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3 libraries, which are still relatively affordable across the board. However, I am now nearing the edge of what is notable or worth playing. On my last expedition I came across Bomberman Act: Zero, which I stared at for some time, like Father Merrin face-to-face with the statue of Pazuzu... only with a dirty old Gamestop sticker on the side.

"USED $5.99" it read.

"Condition - Acceptable, $14" said the listing.

Seemed like a good deal at the time, but do I really want to play Bomberman Act: Zero? No. No I do not. Not even as a joke.

Around the same time, I was looking into matters of the occult, in particular the creation of Tulpas, or "thought-forms." These beings created from intense thought can be given material form and might be better understood to some as doppelgangers. If I were to fashion a thought-form of myself and task it with completing Bomberman Act: Zero for me, then I could log the game on a technicality without dirtying my hands...

With my mind made up, I purchased some material to study, including the predominant text on the subject: "Tulpa: Thought Forms" by C.W. Leadbeater. You know you're dealing with 1900s magic when passages like "magnets are found to be possessed of uncanny powers" are sprinkled between praise for the practice of mesmerism.

After several attempts ended in catastrophic failure and the destruction of malformed Tulpas (which I still do not know how to properly dispose of), I was able to generate a thought-form which perfectly replicated my shape and image and, hopefully, my talent for playing video games. There were still some imperfections. He continually leaked a viscous and fowl black substance, spoke in a language I do not understand nor am I able to identify as being from this Earth, and he exhibited signs of aggression whenever I tried to teach him the button layout of the Xbox 360 gamepad. I was, however, able to placate him with salty foods - pickle brine and V8 juice being particular favorites.

Out of concern for my safety, I purchased a lock and shut him off in the game room with a few jars of olives and NOS energy drink in case he got thirsty. I also set up a basic Raspberry Pi powered camera system and a monitor so I could observe his progress. My Tulpa took to Bomberman Act:Zero's upgrade system pretty quickly, often placing a priority on health upgrades to shoulder damage and corner squirrely opponents, but the third-person camera system - present only in one game mode - seemed to encumber him. He would progress through 20 or so stages, game over, and then make more or less the same amount of headway on the next run. I considered the first night of the experiment to be a success and went to bed.

I was awoken hours later by a tremendous noise, one that physically shook the space around me. Silence followed for two minutes as I sat stunned in bed. "You're alive. Get to the next stage" echoed through the wall soon after. I rushed to the monitor only to find it smeared in the same black substance my Tulpa had been producing since his creation. I decided to venture into the game room to clean the camera lens but was halted by a disturbing thought... Why does the female Bomberman have jiggle physics?

It was around when my Tulpa got stuck inside the walls of my apartment that I started to question if this whole misadventure was worth it. His body flattened, scurrying about like a cockroach, zipping room-to-room with the horrid scratching of his nails digging into my head. I smacked the wall to coral him back to the game room, then entered while banging two pans together to keep him at bay, but I was unable to find his point of entry. I quickly wiped off the lens again and retreated. I don't think I got any of this right. Maybe I should've had the courage to play Bomberman Act: Zero myself, or else had the self-restraint to not buy it in the first place.

Hudson Soft's bloodletting of Bomberman's signature style and charm and subsequent transfusion of grim-dark edge is no doubt born from a cynical perception of what "Gamers" were in the market for circa 2006. Games like Shadow the Hedgehog arguably exist for the same reason, but at least they have a sense of humor about it. Bomberman Act:Zero is so dry, so lacking in content and identity, that despite playing fine it's just uninspired. As I watched my Tulpa near level 80, I found myself reminiscing on Saturn Bomberman. Maybe I was unfair towards it. Perhaps I should play it again, approach it from a different perspective. But it's locked in the room with him. Drats.

The Tulpa died again after clipping into the side of a block and getting stuck. Fusion Frenzy 2 was made with the same engine. How could this happen? I cursed Hudson for not implementing a save system in their 99-level video game. Though each run came with a bit more progress, it was only prolonging the existence of my Tulpa and the clawing madness of keeping him under control. Every time I passed by the game room - his cage - his hand grasped the bottom of the door and jerked it loudly in the frame, then he whispered to me my fears. I began to feel sick and retched into the toilet something that momentarily appeared jet black, then clear. A trick of the eyes, perhaps. I hadn't slept in days.

Level 99. Dehydrated and weary, I watched as the battle played out, my Tulpa struggling against the last of his computer opponents. Blocks began to fall, closing in around the two. It was a matter of mere position that led to my Tulpa's victory. As Bomberman looked to the sky, gates opening overhead to grant him freedom from his prison, I felt calm for the first time in days. It was over. A bit anticlimactic, like Hudson never had any faith someone would play that much Act:Zero, but at least the nightmare was at its end.

I don't think Bomberman Act:Zero is a good game, and I can't even respect it for being different. It kowtowed to the Western market's hunger for muddy, brown, edgy games out of some pessimistic belief that something was wrong with Bomberman. There is no vision here, and beyond its lackluster aesthetic, it's a skeleton of a game. Even at $14 it feels anemic. Like other multiplayer arcade games, I thought that playing with another person might improve my opinion of it, and so I offered to face my Tulpa in a one-on-one battle. He knocked me over and bit my hand. It still burns and the wound continues to widen, but I was able to escape and lock the door once more.

When C.W. Leadbeater pontificates about the power of mental projection and the ability to will thought into form, it's hard not to consider the relation of these occult beliefs to the act of creating media. After all, what is a book, a drawing, or a game if not the manifestation of our thoughts into something tangible, which can be expressed to others with such vividness and clarity as to be understood as it exists in our mind?

You also got a lot of Tulpamancers out there trying to will My Little Pony characters into existence. It's an interesting field of study!

I don't think Hudson Soft set out to make something bad, but the terrible end result of their efforts now exists with a life of its own. So too did I approach the creation of my Tulpa with the best of intentions, only to release a great evil into the world.

And I must now destroy it.