The whispering machines persist, their segmented steel tendrils drag serpentine among loose cables and bread crumbs left behind long ago by frightened IT technicians. Each one of those machines covers enough ground to smother an entire city block with their endless arrays of foul smelling, half rotten neurostacks, and gears that grind louder each day as rust spreads and consumes. And there are many of them, so many of them, all quietly repeating worn secrets and half-truths in each other's deaf ears. Their original purpose long forgotten, the only truth moving them forward being the old contract.
In accordance with and in honour of the old contract between flesh and steel, Jogo Joia's whispering machines will poetically inform you when:
> A game of ours is announced, release, or updated.
> There are any noteworthy public gatherings where we can be found.
> We transcend the confines of our flesh and ascend as beings of light.
If you so desire to receive these whispers, submit your information by the form below, and we shall feed the whispering machines with your truths.