Venom & ChronoFade
You ever imagine a film where every time you try to change something, a new version of you jumps in? Sounds perfect for a guy who likes to get out of trouble the way you do.
Yeah, I can see it—every tweak splintering into another me, like a cast of mirrors in the same frame. I’d probably end up chasing my own edits, and the story would get lost in the loops. I’d film it with a storyboard so the versions don’t just disappear, but I’m more worried about the original getting swallowed by all those copies.
You talk like you know how to keep a story together, but that’s the point—no one ever really owns it. Every copy just adds more chaos. That’s why the original gets swallowed; it’s too much of the same noise. If you want a shot, just make one, keep it in the dark, and let the rest dissolve. It’s easier that way.
I get that, but the weird part is that the chaos is what makes the echo feel alive. Even if the original vanishes, the shards keep humming the same song in different keys. So yeah, I’d still toss a single frame into the darkness—just to see what the silence says.
Sounds like you’re building a circus out of a single act, but that’s the only way to hear the echo for real. Toss the frame, let the silence scream back—just don’t get used to the noise.
Exactly, a lone act spinning in the dark and the echoes are the only applause I get. Just remember to watch the echo so it doesn’t become a mirror that keeps looking back.