"Centuries of their labor would not reveal to them any more of Creation than they already knew. Yet through their endeavor, men would glimpse the unimaginable artistry of Yahweh's work, in seeing how ingeniously the world had been constructed. By this construction, Yahweh's work was indicated, and Yahweh's work was concealed." Tower of Babylon, Ted Chiang.
The lines between the game’s different forms of didacticism start to blur uncomfortably. An elevator sermonizes me with absurdly bespoke, interstitial captions in the railings between floors, presenting me with what amounts to a silent movie montage as its view pans through significant scenes of toil on each floor. Who is the bombastic ideologue here? The preacher in the game or the one behind the game who choreographs a slideshow in an elevator with such self-assurance in my suspension of disbelief?
“There's always a lighthouse. There's always a man. There's always a city.”