Down an endless white corridor, the small man flees, popping slime-filled balloons with his face. The slime accumulates, rises. The man is drowning in slime that cycles through a rainbow of colors. Superdracula wrenches the plastic rectangle from your hands. "Hey, that's not how you do it." Endless hours pass. The tiny man is struggling, kicking, gasping his short, chirping gasps, barely keeping his head above the glowing sludge. The thing holding the controller is glancing sideways to see if you are impressed. You smile and nod eagerly. You can do nothing else. The entire world is confined to the space of the glowing screen and the shrinking alcove where the man struggles against the wave of churning pixel waste.