I only interacted with him once, where I asked if it would be okay on Twitter to use a quote from Presentable Liberty in The Meaning of the Dark and he said “yes”. I went to look up Wertpol on my phone, and found to my surprise and shock that, sadly, he had committed suicide in 2018. However, we watched it together, and both of us were reduced to floods by the end of it. It’s work of profound genius, and has taught me so much about storytelling. It’s then my wife asked me a question about the creator, Wertpol. Perhaps the lockdown? Perhaps general conversations about “great video-game stories”? I’m not sure. Towards the end of the game, there is a moment of hope that breaks through the despair that never fails to bring tears to my eyes.Įarlier this month, myself and my wife sat down to re-watch Markiplier’s 2014 play-through of Presentable Liberty. I’m not entirely sure what compelled us to do this. Over the course of the game (which spans five “days” in the prisoner’s life) you get to know these people intimately, to care about them, and to desperately long to hear from them again. The effect of this game had on me was so profound it caused me to write The Meaning of the Dark, which was my own attempt at an isolation narrative. There is an epigraph from Wertpol, the creator, at the start of the novel. It forces you to experience an isolation that I have never known any other book, play, film, or game to convey. The letters – your vital line to reality – bring tidings from four key individuals in your life. Markiplier himself became completely immersed in the game, to the point where he says, “Halfway through I stopped playing it and started living it.” In an hour or two, Presentable Liberty takes you on a journey to the very depths of despair and beyond. At first, all seems pretty safe and predictable, but then with each new revelation, the train picks up speed, until we’re biting our nails with fear at this 150 mile-per-hour rollercoaster. The only way you can interact with the outside world is by (a) reading letters and (b) playing on your Portable Entertainment Product™ (essentially a parody of a GameBoy).īut the story that unfolds from this point on is nothing short of breathtaking and spellbinding, as well as a frightening allegory for our modern times and the corrupting power of money. The game’s pace is like a train leaving the station. And, on top of that, the gameplay was limited: the premise of the game being that you were stuck in a cell somewhere high up, unable to escape, with the world around you slowly succumbing to a virus… (and yes, there are spooky parallels with today). Markiplier’s video was a one-hour playthrough of Presentable Liberty.Īt first, Markiplier was mocking. The clickbait video was for a game called Presentable Liberty, by an indie game developer known only as Wertpol. I clicked on it begrudgingly, expecting nothing remotely life-changing and a little annoyed at being caralled into investigating this, but unable to repress my human curiosity.īut, unbelievably, the title proved true, both for me and Markiplier himself. He put out a video that had a clickbait title: THIS GAME WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE. Anyway, you all know I’m an aficionado of games, so I don’t need to justify myself!Īt the time, I was subscribed to Markiplier, who is still one of the world’s biggest YouTubers and gamers. Of course, nowadays, many games are more like extended movies anyway, so there’s a lot story-wise to learn from and absorb. There is something fascinating about watching someone who is an expert take you through a game, especially if it’s a game you cannot get access to or have no intention of playing yourself. However, back in those days, I was really into gamers and “let’s play” videos. I still am, in some ways, but my taste in channels has shifted, and I no longer binge like I used to. Around 2014, I was an avid consumer of YouTube videos.

Markiplier presentable liberty