Delicious FruitYaBoiMarcAntony's Profile
Send a PMJoined on: Apr 26, 2020
Bio:
I used to be here four years ago but I left. I was Guitarsage2k/Parallax5.
These fangames mean a lot to me (attempt at order)
1. I Wanna Kill the Kermit 3
2. I Wanna Walk Out in the Morning Dew
3. I Wanna Be the Volatile Presence: Stagnant Edition
4. Crimson Needle 3
5. I Wanna Kill the Kermit 2
6. I Wanna Figure
7. Phonotransmitter
8. VoVoVo
9. I Wanna Reach the Moon
10. untitled needle game
11. I Wanna Burnmind
12. Domu
13. I Want To Meet Miki
14. I Wanna Go Across the Rainbow
15. Alphazetica
16. I Wanna Stop the Simulation
17. I Wanna Hydrate
18. I Wanna Be the Ocean Princess
19. I Wanna Vibe with the Gods
20. I Wanna Be the Vandal
21. I Wanna Pray to the Platform God
22. I Want
23. I Wanna Pointillism
24. I Wanna Be Far From Home
25. I Wanna Be the RO
I've submitted:
275 Ratings!
236 Reviews!
5 Screenshots!
TwitterReport this user
275 Games
236 Reviews
YaBoiMarcAntony
For: Moonstone
For: Moonstone
As short as it may be, the game itself is still rather fun and cleanly made, and the visuals have this odd sort of progression about them that makes the game feel like more than just jtool needle. I've enjoyed seeing occult's needle style develop throughout their games and there can clearly be seen a rise in quality and consistency.
Tagged as: Needle
[0] Likes
Rating: 7.0 70
Difficulty: 68 68
Aug 5, 2022
YaBoiMarcAntony
For: Melancholy Needle 3
For: Melancholy Needle 3
Very solid needle game with decent variety in styles. Aside from a few saves, the main problem with the game was visibility in certain areas where it was difficult to see water or even blocks at times, but it wasn't enough to really bother me.
Tagged as: Needle
[0] Likes
Rating: 6.7 67
Difficulty: 72 72
Jul 14, 2022
YaBoiMarcAntony
For: I wanna be the Volatile Presence: Stagnant Edition
For: I wanna be the Volatile Presence: Stagnant Edition
Before what you're reading now, I had written up what was by far my longest review, a lot of which was just me rambling about irrelevancies and personal shit in a vague attempt at connecting my own life with the game, but after writing it, I decided that I didn't like such a verbose and almost overwrought review for such a game as this. As it stands, I guess I just don't really know what to say about VP:SE without tending towards the overwrought and verbose, but I don't know that I'll ever write something that satisfies me seeing as I very rarely rewrite my own reviews, not because I'm just so good as to get it right the first time always, but because I'm of a lazy disposition and don't aim for writing a perfect review every time or even any time. I simply want to write something that, in my eyes, is a reaction to my time with the game, and whether it's to write something of a thank you or a damn you, that depends on the game. Here, I'm aiming for something of a thank you, though it is naturally a bit more complex than that.
I write now while listening to The Sound of Someone You Love Who's Going Away and it Doesn't Matter, and for some reason I find it to be the song most befitting of the game despite the file name being taken from a different song off Music From the Penguin Cafe. I don't know that this game is a goodbye, despite the hopes of the creator, and I think it is not worth getting into the why's and the whether-or-not's, but I will say that there is this sense that the game occupies the space between the last conversation and the goodbye, that place where you just know there's nothing left to say but you don't quite want to say that last terrifying word. As concrete a concept as it is, though, I don't find myself recalling many times where I've truly experienced that. More often than not, we're not blessed with the gift of knowing to say goodbye. Instead, it just so happens that we say our last words to someone without knowing we'll never say anything to them again. Sometimes, a goodbye isn't even the last word, but it's the last meaningful word, whether by choice or happenstance. I've known so many people throughout my life that I know I'll never see again, so many goodbyes that I'll never remember cause I didn't realize that's what they were, and I know there'll be many more to come.
Truly, there has only ever been one time I had a chance to say my last words knowingly and that was at what may as well have been my grandmother's deathbed. She wasn't able to respond, so it wasn't much of a conversation, but I had the chance to say a few things to her before she passed away. My dad told me she wouldn't be able to respond but that she could hear me, however after the fact I realized that he probably was just saying that to make me feel better, and I suppose it doesn't matter if she heard me because the last things we say to someone don't tend to be about things the other person doesn't know, but just things we wish to stress. When I told my grandma I loved her and that I was sorry I didn't spend more time with her, that I was happy to know she'd be able to see her beloved husband in heaven and to say hi to him for me, I know that I didn't need to say any of that because she knew it all. Even still, it was nice to get the chance to say it regardless.
I don't think much of anything I said here has to do with Volatile Presence (I'll be calling it that from here on out even though that's not it's official name as I don't want to write VP:SE over and over again), but all the same it's what my mind strayed to. Really, it's difficult to pin down what exactly Volatile Presence is beyond being not so much a sequel to the original, but instead the finished product - although, the game itself is and will likely remain unfinished, so perhaps that's a bit of a misnomer. Even so, finished or not, there is some sense of closure within the game's "ending," an ending that will likely catch many off guard and feel off to most, and though I fully realize it's not what the maker wanted, I think it nonetheless brings meaning to the game that may not otherwise have been there.
I originally (in my old review) described Volatile Presence as composed fragments of a mind, a museum of expressions made physical, and there's still some truth to that. I cannot tell you the meaning of each painting within this museum and truth be told I don't have much of an interpretation for almost any stage in the game. It's not so much that everything is too vague, and to be clear the game itself is not particularly subtle on a macro level, but more so that I find myself just wandering the game, not wanting to give thoughts but instead to just immerse myself. Volatile Presence is a somber game, and yet there is this feeling of warmth which works through me as I play it, not so much a warmth of kindness or happiness, but instead one of companionship.
Something I seek in everything I play is that feeling of companionship, something I could just as easily write as that feeling of humanity. Even the coldest and most depressive works have that feeling when they're done right, and it's partially what separates the good from the truly great, that sense that what you're partaking in is genuine and not fabricated artificially. The funny thing is, most pieces of art are genuine in some way, but the way I say it makes it out to be that I don't think that's the case. So, I reckon the missing link then is a need for some sort of relatability, not in the traditional sense, though. I don't know that I relate to much of what Volatile Presence deals with, though I can sympathize, of course. Instead, it's much more of a vague subconscious feeling I get that makes me think of Volatile Presence as being familiar to me. I don't relate to the game, but I relate to its general emotions, I suppose.
That's my greatest difficulty with discussing Volatile Presence, I can't find myself being anything but vague. Perhaps it's a failing on my part as a writer, or maybe I've just chosen to write before I really know what to say about the game, but all the same I feel the need to talk about Volatile Presence, so here I am talking. As silly as it is to say, maybe it's just my need to still be actively participating in the game. I could replay it, but it's not what I want, truly. No, I guess it's more that I can feel that goodbye coming, and this is my silly way of trying to push it off as much as I can. I love Volatile Presence and I love the way it makes me feel. I don't think there's any other game like it, no game that could accurately replicate what it makes me feel, and so I wish it could go on forever. Of course, I know it can't go on forever, and I know the game has already said goodbye to me, a goodbye that came before I was ready to say it myself. Thinking on it now, this review isn't a thank you, but a goodbye to this game I love dearly. I'll play it again and again, but I'll never be able to go back to my time watching this game grow into something truly special, and seeing it now as a blossoming flower, one whose beauty is altogether enhanced by those missing petals, I am glad to know I was there for the journey. And here I sit, knowing I have nothing more to say but reaching for anything because I just don't want to say the last word again.
So I won't say it at all.
[7] Likes
I write now while listening to The Sound of Someone You Love Who's Going Away and it Doesn't Matter, and for some reason I find it to be the song most befitting of the game despite the file name being taken from a different song off Music From the Penguin Cafe. I don't know that this game is a goodbye, despite the hopes of the creator, and I think it is not worth getting into the why's and the whether-or-not's, but I will say that there is this sense that the game occupies the space between the last conversation and the goodbye, that place where you just know there's nothing left to say but you don't quite want to say that last terrifying word. As concrete a concept as it is, though, I don't find myself recalling many times where I've truly experienced that. More often than not, we're not blessed with the gift of knowing to say goodbye. Instead, it just so happens that we say our last words to someone without knowing we'll never say anything to them again. Sometimes, a goodbye isn't even the last word, but it's the last meaningful word, whether by choice or happenstance. I've known so many people throughout my life that I know I'll never see again, so many goodbyes that I'll never remember cause I didn't realize that's what they were, and I know there'll be many more to come.
Truly, there has only ever been one time I had a chance to say my last words knowingly and that was at what may as well have been my grandmother's deathbed. She wasn't able to respond, so it wasn't much of a conversation, but I had the chance to say a few things to her before she passed away. My dad told me she wouldn't be able to respond but that she could hear me, however after the fact I realized that he probably was just saying that to make me feel better, and I suppose it doesn't matter if she heard me because the last things we say to someone don't tend to be about things the other person doesn't know, but just things we wish to stress. When I told my grandma I loved her and that I was sorry I didn't spend more time with her, that I was happy to know she'd be able to see her beloved husband in heaven and to say hi to him for me, I know that I didn't need to say any of that because she knew it all. Even still, it was nice to get the chance to say it regardless.
I don't think much of anything I said here has to do with Volatile Presence (I'll be calling it that from here on out even though that's not it's official name as I don't want to write VP:SE over and over again), but all the same it's what my mind strayed to. Really, it's difficult to pin down what exactly Volatile Presence is beyond being not so much a sequel to the original, but instead the finished product - although, the game itself is and will likely remain unfinished, so perhaps that's a bit of a misnomer. Even so, finished or not, there is some sense of closure within the game's "ending," an ending that will likely catch many off guard and feel off to most, and though I fully realize it's not what the maker wanted, I think it nonetheless brings meaning to the game that may not otherwise have been there.
I originally (in my old review) described Volatile Presence as composed fragments of a mind, a museum of expressions made physical, and there's still some truth to that. I cannot tell you the meaning of each painting within this museum and truth be told I don't have much of an interpretation for almost any stage in the game. It's not so much that everything is too vague, and to be clear the game itself is not particularly subtle on a macro level, but more so that I find myself just wandering the game, not wanting to give thoughts but instead to just immerse myself. Volatile Presence is a somber game, and yet there is this feeling of warmth which works through me as I play it, not so much a warmth of kindness or happiness, but instead one of companionship.
Something I seek in everything I play is that feeling of companionship, something I could just as easily write as that feeling of humanity. Even the coldest and most depressive works have that feeling when they're done right, and it's partially what separates the good from the truly great, that sense that what you're partaking in is genuine and not fabricated artificially. The funny thing is, most pieces of art are genuine in some way, but the way I say it makes it out to be that I don't think that's the case. So, I reckon the missing link then is a need for some sort of relatability, not in the traditional sense, though. I don't know that I relate to much of what Volatile Presence deals with, though I can sympathize, of course. Instead, it's much more of a vague subconscious feeling I get that makes me think of Volatile Presence as being familiar to me. I don't relate to the game, but I relate to its general emotions, I suppose.
That's my greatest difficulty with discussing Volatile Presence, I can't find myself being anything but vague. Perhaps it's a failing on my part as a writer, or maybe I've just chosen to write before I really know what to say about the game, but all the same I feel the need to talk about Volatile Presence, so here I am talking. As silly as it is to say, maybe it's just my need to still be actively participating in the game. I could replay it, but it's not what I want, truly. No, I guess it's more that I can feel that goodbye coming, and this is my silly way of trying to push it off as much as I can. I love Volatile Presence and I love the way it makes me feel. I don't think there's any other game like it, no game that could accurately replicate what it makes me feel, and so I wish it could go on forever. Of course, I know it can't go on forever, and I know the game has already said goodbye to me, a goodbye that came before I was ready to say it myself. Thinking on it now, this review isn't a thank you, but a goodbye to this game I love dearly. I'll play it again and again, but I'll never be able to go back to my time watching this game grow into something truly special, and seeing it now as a blossoming flower, one whose beauty is altogether enhanced by those missing petals, I am glad to know I was there for the journey. And here I sit, knowing I have nothing more to say but reaching for anything because I just don't want to say the last word again.
So I won't say it at all.
Rating: 10.0 100
Difficulty: 85 85
Jun 18, 2022
YaBoiMarcAntony
For: I wanna be far from home
For: I wanna be far from home
Many times in my life, when it came down to it, the only thing I wanted to do was to run away from it all. This want of mine has been for many different reasons all throughout my life, some fair, others admittedly not, but the fact remains that my natural inclination to great strife is to run from it. I don't think this is a unique aspect of my self, and in fact I'd guess that most everyone has at some point in their life felt this inclination. It's just easier to run than it is to stand up to something because to stand up takes courage and bravery, something that can tend to be in short supply for most.
I Wanna Be Far From Home is a game of escapism, or perhaps even a retelling of sorts, I wouldn't know as I'm not the maker. Either way, Far From Home expresses this desire to run and tells a story of running away. The game opens rather oddly with the player in a body of water while an unreachable cliff-side hangs over them, not so much ominously but with no other alternative. From there, you'll soon find that you reside within something of a hub world made up of extremely dense landmasses dotted around in a minimalist fashion. When it comes to the actual design of a given section, there is an unbelievable amount of detail, but thanks to how much room is given, you'll find that this hub world feels serene and pleasant.
There are four different stages that become longer as you go on, the first stage being a single jump while the last stage will probably take a blind player fit for its difficulty anywhere between twenty to forty minutes, depending on the person and their respective skills. In any case, the sense of progression from stage to stage lies not just in the sheer size of each of them, but also in terms of how space is used. The first stage is extremely claustrophobic with a rather tight jump. Aside from that, most all of the screen is dominated by a stuttering black mass. While it is traditionally pretty, there is a sense of negativity associated with the black mass in its totality, not to mention the obvious fact that it kills you upon touching it.
The second stage, however, carves out more room for itself in the black mass, though it is still a rather short stage. Here, you'll find the game beginning to play around with a bit of pathing, the final jump utilizing a vine you use early on in the stage. There's also some tight usage of water, tight in a way that I originally found annoying from a gameplay perspective but grew to enjoy, as well as platforming explicitly around blocks of black. In this way, you cannot simply avoid the reality of this blackness, instead you are forced to come to grips with it and approach it safely in order to beat the stage.
Stage three is where things really begin to open up for the game. Clever pathing can be found all over, with many moments of you returning to a previous section of the stage under a new light, passing through it to get further in the stage. In this way, plasma produces a sort of knot of gameplay in a way reminiscent of the qoqoqo series, though more striking visually thanks to the usage of large screens, and of course it feels different thanks to plasma's extremely unique style of gameplay. There's still platform around bits of the black mass, however you're forced to at times blindly dive into them in order to progress through the stage. The final save ends with a very long fall that takes you through a previous part of the stage in beautiful fashion which then ends simply with you jumping into a warp surrounded by the black mass (I apologize for the repeated usage of the phrase, but it comes up a lot!) In fact, this is the only stage in which you could actually die trying to go for the warp, marking stage three as particularly notable in its usage of this black mass.
The final stage is, as described before, very long. This is, depending on who you ask, to its benefit or a flaw of the game. For my part, I think this length fits perfectly with the theme of the game and also serves the gameplay very well as the length is due to its sheer size. Here, the pathing's genius is not so much in how it retreads old paths but instead in how tightly designed the stage is. There are so many moments where this grand strand comes so close to altogether intertwining with another, and yet there is only one time in which you find yourself touching old ground at any point; otherwise, there are no intersections of any sort, something which stands out to me as a unique form of pathing that I personally love.
Gameplay wise, this stage is also the most difficult by far, utilizing a lot of rather tight jumps and tough maneuvers. With that said, at no point is the black mass involved in any of this, and in that way it begins to feel like this black mass merely existed and that the platforming itself was indeed carved into it, placed there by some unknown being. Finally, the exit warp is hidden away far at the top, surrounded by pillars of water and plus signs. This final warp out feels the most safe of the bunch, both due to the pleasant design of its surroundings and the fact that death at this point is essentially impossible. In stage one, you could plausibly die thanks to, well, idiocy. Stage two there's no chance of death, but the path to the warp is so tight and uncomfortable that it's left feeling unsafe in that way, and of course stage three is the one most plausible to die to.
Upon clearing the final stage, you find yourself in a position of being able to jump all the way back down to the cliffside, which now hangs below rather than above, and leaving the hub to go to the end. You find yourself in an area that feels less welcoming than the hub world of the previous, a small tower at the top of which lies a grand chasm filled with red water, water which you are forced to dive into. Any attempt to jump out forces you further down, and as you go down the screen fades to black, leaving us with this exchange:
"I am sorry I took so long."
"Welcome home."
What I find especially harrowing about this game is that this ending is not in itself a particularly positive one in tone. The entire game sees the player essentially just biding time until they come home, with each stage's increasing length feeling like its own form of running away. In this way, it feels like the black mass is life itself whereas that which makes up the stages themselves is a manifestation of the player character. As you traverse each stage, this black mass becomes more and more of a looming presence until it peaks in stage three, a peak you'd traditionally expect at stage four. If this game were about facing your fears or troubles and not running away, it'd only be natural that the final confrontation, as it were, would be a culmination of a previously-established pattern. With each stage, more and more of the black mass becomes relevant to the platforming, and yet that isn't so with Far From Home. Instead, the final stage is a self-made tribulation, as if it's the player knowing their return home is inevitable and they're doing anything they can to keep that reality away.
So, in the end, it feels less like the player's coming to terms with what they have to do and more like them knowing it's an inevitability. The player's final dive into the red water is less so them standing up to what they've been running away from for so long and more so as if they've been coerced to it by the reality of life. Running away forever is simply not feasible, not unless you give up altogether. Some day, somehow, you'll have to stand up to what you've been running from, and in this case that end came by force.
I Wanna Be Far From Home is a wish, one that's made knowing how futile it is, a concept I'm far too familiar with. Every day I wake up, I wish so desperately that things could just magically change and be like old times or somehow improve, and that day never comes. I wish I could just leave all this behind and live a new life, and yet I know that I could never do it. I wish, in short, I could be anywhere but here, a wish I've had time and time again, and yet I know that it could never become true. Admittedly, I don't think my life would be better if it did come true, but it pains me now to know I just can't run away, no matter how much I want to. Yet, in all this wishing and hoping, all this dreaming of running away from here, I realize now that I've been running away all this time.
And so I come home.
I Wanna Be Far From Home is a game of escapism, or perhaps even a retelling of sorts, I wouldn't know as I'm not the maker. Either way, Far From Home expresses this desire to run and tells a story of running away. The game opens rather oddly with the player in a body of water while an unreachable cliff-side hangs over them, not so much ominously but with no other alternative. From there, you'll soon find that you reside within something of a hub world made up of extremely dense landmasses dotted around in a minimalist fashion. When it comes to the actual design of a given section, there is an unbelievable amount of detail, but thanks to how much room is given, you'll find that this hub world feels serene and pleasant.
There are four different stages that become longer as you go on, the first stage being a single jump while the last stage will probably take a blind player fit for its difficulty anywhere between twenty to forty minutes, depending on the person and their respective skills. In any case, the sense of progression from stage to stage lies not just in the sheer size of each of them, but also in terms of how space is used. The first stage is extremely claustrophobic with a rather tight jump. Aside from that, most all of the screen is dominated by a stuttering black mass. While it is traditionally pretty, there is a sense of negativity associated with the black mass in its totality, not to mention the obvious fact that it kills you upon touching it.
The second stage, however, carves out more room for itself in the black mass, though it is still a rather short stage. Here, you'll find the game beginning to play around with a bit of pathing, the final jump utilizing a vine you use early on in the stage. There's also some tight usage of water, tight in a way that I originally found annoying from a gameplay perspective but grew to enjoy, as well as platforming explicitly around blocks of black. In this way, you cannot simply avoid the reality of this blackness, instead you are forced to come to grips with it and approach it safely in order to beat the stage.
Stage three is where things really begin to open up for the game. Clever pathing can be found all over, with many moments of you returning to a previous section of the stage under a new light, passing through it to get further in the stage. In this way, plasma produces a sort of knot of gameplay in a way reminiscent of the qoqoqo series, though more striking visually thanks to the usage of large screens, and of course it feels different thanks to plasma's extremely unique style of gameplay. There's still platform around bits of the black mass, however you're forced to at times blindly dive into them in order to progress through the stage. The final save ends with a very long fall that takes you through a previous part of the stage in beautiful fashion which then ends simply with you jumping into a warp surrounded by the black mass (I apologize for the repeated usage of the phrase, but it comes up a lot!) In fact, this is the only stage in which you could actually die trying to go for the warp, marking stage three as particularly notable in its usage of this black mass.
The final stage is, as described before, very long. This is, depending on who you ask, to its benefit or a flaw of the game. For my part, I think this length fits perfectly with the theme of the game and also serves the gameplay very well as the length is due to its sheer size. Here, the pathing's genius is not so much in how it retreads old paths but instead in how tightly designed the stage is. There are so many moments where this grand strand comes so close to altogether intertwining with another, and yet there is only one time in which you find yourself touching old ground at any point; otherwise, there are no intersections of any sort, something which stands out to me as a unique form of pathing that I personally love.
Gameplay wise, this stage is also the most difficult by far, utilizing a lot of rather tight jumps and tough maneuvers. With that said, at no point is the black mass involved in any of this, and in that way it begins to feel like this black mass merely existed and that the platforming itself was indeed carved into it, placed there by some unknown being. Finally, the exit warp is hidden away far at the top, surrounded by pillars of water and plus signs. This final warp out feels the most safe of the bunch, both due to the pleasant design of its surroundings and the fact that death at this point is essentially impossible. In stage one, you could plausibly die thanks to, well, idiocy. Stage two there's no chance of death, but the path to the warp is so tight and uncomfortable that it's left feeling unsafe in that way, and of course stage three is the one most plausible to die to.
Upon clearing the final stage, you find yourself in a position of being able to jump all the way back down to the cliffside, which now hangs below rather than above, and leaving the hub to go to the end. You find yourself in an area that feels less welcoming than the hub world of the previous, a small tower at the top of which lies a grand chasm filled with red water, water which you are forced to dive into. Any attempt to jump out forces you further down, and as you go down the screen fades to black, leaving us with this exchange:
"I am sorry I took so long."
"Welcome home."
What I find especially harrowing about this game is that this ending is not in itself a particularly positive one in tone. The entire game sees the player essentially just biding time until they come home, with each stage's increasing length feeling like its own form of running away. In this way, it feels like the black mass is life itself whereas that which makes up the stages themselves is a manifestation of the player character. As you traverse each stage, this black mass becomes more and more of a looming presence until it peaks in stage three, a peak you'd traditionally expect at stage four. If this game were about facing your fears or troubles and not running away, it'd only be natural that the final confrontation, as it were, would be a culmination of a previously-established pattern. With each stage, more and more of the black mass becomes relevant to the platforming, and yet that isn't so with Far From Home. Instead, the final stage is a self-made tribulation, as if it's the player knowing their return home is inevitable and they're doing anything they can to keep that reality away.
So, in the end, it feels less like the player's coming to terms with what they have to do and more like them knowing it's an inevitability. The player's final dive into the red water is less so them standing up to what they've been running away from for so long and more so as if they've been coerced to it by the reality of life. Running away forever is simply not feasible, not unless you give up altogether. Some day, somehow, you'll have to stand up to what you've been running from, and in this case that end came by force.
I Wanna Be Far From Home is a wish, one that's made knowing how futile it is, a concept I'm far too familiar with. Every day I wake up, I wish so desperately that things could just magically change and be like old times or somehow improve, and that day never comes. I wish I could just leave all this behind and live a new life, and yet I know that I could never do it. I wish, in short, I could be anywhere but here, a wish I've had time and time again, and yet I know that it could never become true. Admittedly, I don't think my life would be better if it did come true, but it pains me now to know I just can't run away, no matter how much I want to. Yet, in all this wishing and hoping, all this dreaming of running away from here, I realize now that I've been running away all this time.
And so I come home.
Tagged as: Needle
[4] Likes
Rating: 9.5 95
Difficulty: 70 70
May 14, 2022
YaBoiMarcAntony
For: I wanna walk through solstice
For: I wanna walk through solstice
Reasonably fun needle game somewhat based around lower frame jumps and tight maneuvers. Most of it is good, however a few jumps got on my nerves and at times it felt like the precision of some bits did not really serve the save well. That said, the game has pretty nice vibes thanks to the good song and the needle is generally fairly peaceful, so I still liked it.
Tagged as: Needle
[0] Likes
Rating: 6.5 65
Difficulty: 70 70
Apr 26, 2022
9 Games
| Game | Difficulty | Average Rating | # of Ratings |
|---|---|---|---|
| A Sky Blue Denouement | 89.8 | 8.2 | 5 |
| April is the Cruelest Month | 85.0 | 8.8 | 16 |
| I Wanna Flying Disc | 91.5 | 9.3 | 4 |
| Frankie Teardrop | 2.2 | 6.0 | 10 |
| I Don't Wanna Dwell | 69.2 | 7.3 | 14 |
| Nebulous Thoughts | 80.3 | 9.1 | 30 |
| Strewn Detritus | 69.0 | 7.3 | 14 |
| The Sunken Cathedral | 70.0 | 8.2 | 25 |
| I Wanna be the Ziggomatic Drukqs | 70.5 | 7.3 | 9 |
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