Ganking the Rust Lord

Ella Witney

I want you to hold me the way you hold your controller 

hips in both hands,  

thumbs pressing into my skin.  

You aren’t restricted to just my hips you know.  

There’s a lot more of me to grab than that controller can offer.  

I want you to touch me the way you toggle your joystick;  

slow lazy circles 

faster, slower.  

I can give you carpal tunnel injuries you wouldn’t believe. 


I’m sick of sitting here watching you play your game.  

Not when I’d rather be doing other things on this couch.  

It could be good for so many positions.  

We could find out together. 


I’m jealous of the way the screen holds your attention.  

How you can hardly tear your gaze away from it.  

I want that to be me.  

To see you with your legs spread,  

bent forward,  

forearms bracing your knees.  

I want your unblinking gaze to drink in the sight of me.  

Don’t you think I’m more entertaining? 


Should I get up onto the coffee table?  

Stand in the way of your game?  

Would you notice me then?  

Notice me now.  

We could have a multiplayer game of our own. 


Illuminate me in those colourful LEDs.  

I’d look good in red, don’t you think?  

You have so many toys,  

yet none of them are for me.  

You can use them on me you know.  

Oh play with me please.  


Pull the cartridge out,  

blow it,  

shove it back in  


but be gentle, you don’t want to damage it.  


I can also whisper you words of encouragement  

just like the voices in your headset,  

would you like that?  

Keep going,  

you’re not far from the treasure,  

I’m sure you’ll find it.  

I know I can scream in your ear just as much as they do.  

I can make my language as filthy as theirs too.  

Just find out.  

Your friends revive you all the time— 

rest assured I can revive you in so many ways they can’t. 


I want to stop being the third wheel between you and your game.  

You play the same game every day with the same people.  

Why can’t that be me?  

You could play me every day for hours on end.  

I can last as long as your games too— 

I know you’d like that. 


I can be a character if you want.  

Dress me up; undress me.  

I don’t mind. 


Look at me.  

Press save and look at me.  

I want to taste M&Ms fresh on your tongue,  

feel the sweat on your body,  

breathe in your Pepsi aroma.  

Just touch me, please.  

I’ll make it worth your while. 


It would be a shame if someone were to cut the wi-fi… 

Author: Ella is a Brisbane-based writer and poet. Currently she is studying a Bachelor of Fine Arts, majoring in Creative Writing at Queensland University of Technology. Her poetry and short stories have been published in ScratchThat, and she has read at the QUT Literary Salon. As a third-generational member of Brisbane’s folk scene and an Irish Fiddler, Ella is inspired by traditions and lore, and is always on the look-out for what can be amended to better suit modern audiences. Her works include elements of fantasy, psychological, and horror, and explores the way mental health affects individuals.

Artist: Cyndra Galea (she/they) is in the third year of her Bachelor of Fine Art’s in Creative Writing with a minor in Professional Communications. When not found with her head in a book or three, Cyndra can be found radioactive antique hunting, fixing classic cars with her dad, drawing on her iPad, or writing and editing her manuscript. Cyndra aims to work as a structural editor when she finishes her Masters of Editing and Publishing, but also dreams of releasing novels of their own.

Editors: Brock Scholte and Breeh Botsford