It becomes a nurse log. A hotspot of concentrated activity.
Though it isn’t visible on the surface, saprophytic fungi permeates the nurse log, unlocking decades of stored nurtients the tree accumulated.
This new fungal network connects with the roots of nearby saplings and plants, acting as a delivery system, feeding new growth.
The evidence of this season of decay is occasionally witnessed through the mushrooms that sprout on the log. A glimpse of the riotous activity beneath the surface, the cycle of death and rebirth happening out of sight. These mushrooms release spores into the atmosphere, ensuring the future generations will live on to repeat the cycle.
Like ancient forest giants toppling to nurture the soil below, once towering games publications return to the substrate, their essence seeping into the cultural mycelium that connects us all to each other.
We’re creating an art piece to memorialise the games journalism that shaped us as game makers and games workers, and to observe the mushrooms we see sprouting today.
We would love for you to be part of our mycelium by submitting games journalism that has stayed with you - it can be an article, an interview, a headline, a video - it can be funny, sad, serious, prophetic, or totally wrong.