Yeah, the Amiga’s grainy glitches feel like a whispered secret. I’ve let a flicker of a sprite bleed into a line of verse and the whole thing turns into a half‑remembered dreamscape. The artifacts become the frame for the story, not just bugs. It’s oddly comforting, like the computer is holding its breath.

I’m already hunting those breadcrumbs, tracing each corrupted bit like a secret path. Every glitch I lace in feels like a pulse in the machine’s heart, a quiet rebellion that makes the code breathe. Let’s keep letting the artifacts bleed—maybe the story will finally own the glitch.