Wow!! 

The writing is lucid, striking and, yes, oozes charm. It feels almost like critical theory magically transmogrified into a game. By the same token it is challenging in parts, and I’m sure some players will bounce off. I know sometimes difficulty can be wielded deliberately, to create cognitive and affective possibilities that stretches of smooth sailing never could. Then again, sometimes things simply can be simplified. Figuring out which is which is the difficulty of writing difficulty (and not really a knack of mine, or anything).

Some stray thoughts:

I wondered if the post-carceral bit could benefit from a sentence or two of expansion? Since the other sections lay out arguments, provocations, and aphorisms, whereas JUSTICE seems to leave players more to their own devices. Or maybe it’s enough as it is, focusing on the moral worth of the perpetrator, and hinting at restorative justice.

I am intrigued by the form: continuous prose with embedded optional prompts from which the reader-player can sprout their own storytelling. I don’t know about you, but for me one way that storytelling happens is that I get a voice stuck in my head -- usually some other writer’s voice -- that gradually becomes my voice. Perhaps this is a form to facilitate that? But then, the polish and flair of your writing might even be a drawback: I may feel like I can’t match that voice right now, and so speak hesitantly or elect silence. I might wish I were facing short phrases on d6 roll tables instead, where it’s nice and easy to just fix together the fragments and fill in the gaps. On the other hand, the way you invite players to browse the text does break it apart a little. And the check boxes also feel like that have that splintering power, of creating those cracks and nooks, where something of one's own can start to sprout from the shimmering surface ...

I think the Ooze makes for a great concl-ooze-ion. Maybe especially the bit about rewriting episodes that felt like they belong to the Before. The late turn toward the supernatural somehow feels like it registers our positionality as storytellers in the Before, bounded by the Before’s horizons.