Unable to attend the ceremony and luncheon at Columbia University, Miyazaki sent Amygdala to accept the award in his stead. Prize administrator Dana Canedy called the item descriptions “The most Lovecraftian thing I read since misinterpreting Kafka,” holding one of Amygdala’s feelers in warm embrace as he engulfed the stage. After the applause died, Amygdala fell silent, though some audience members swore they heard a vortex of human cries inside their own heads. Amygdala gestured upward with an appendage and several audience members rose into the air, their heads expanding. Onlookers who watched the spectacle too long went blind or began screaming incoherently, while still other members of the audience “Didn’t get what the big deal was.” Prior to leaving the stage, Amygdala telepathized, “I want to thank Kos.”
Bloodborne’s prize and Amygdala’s speech were on everyone’s mind at the luncheon after the award ceremony. Those who went blind ranted about “finally being able to see,” several people bowed before Amygdala, and naysayers remained focused on Bloodborne’s writing, their conversations centered around the phrase “We still don’t get it.” Amygdala remained unphased by his newfound worshipers. He refused answering any questions directly, his only telepathy at the luncheon being, “These hor d’oeuvres suck.” Commotion escalated when a group of Byrgenwerth scholars found the dining area and began tussling with the ceremony crowd; phrases like “Fear the old blood” and “A hunter is a hunter” flew around the room with the same fervor as the fists. The bustle died down when one of the scholars noticed a copy of Dark Souls 3 outside the reception and summoned his cohorts to go take their rightful spots in Lothric as out-of-place enemies.
Three days after the ceremony, we sent one of our Debuff correspondents to the Nightmare Frontier with a Tonsil Stone for a follow-up interview. Amygdala appeared bashful and unprepared for our visit. He already rebuked hordes of interviewers and worshippers, even ripping off his own arm to hammer our correspondent. We did not manage to get any comments, or ask anything for that matter. Our reporter described piles of mangled corpses scattered about Amygdala’s living quarters. It was unclear whether these were recent victims of Amygdala’s desire for privacy, or standard decor in the Nightmare Frontier. Standing out among the carelessly stacked bodies was the Pulitzer Prize--carefully placed atop the highest pile, not a drop of Paleblood on it. In spite of his inability to handle the pressure of fame, Amygdala seemed proud to be part of Miyazaki’s legacy