The 1st Host is named Nils. He was born in Sweden and raised on bumping house music. He’s more of a sadist than the 2nd Host, Max. Nils just fucks the world all day - or at least believes he does. Max is loud and lovable and cries deeply in his palms due to the void in his heart. Born and raised in LA, all he’s known is the wonderful culture of appearance upkeep. Both of them could wreck you and me if we ever tried some shit. Nils would gouge out our eyes while Max would find a way hotter new girl friend or boyfriend. Scary, and that’s why we play with something safe. They’re little wrecking balls on this sphere full of test dummies and test dummy simulacrums. That’s how they think of themselves which makes them unlikeable almost all of the time. Despite it all, people can’t stay way from these two, it seems. It’s what Josh, The Guest, sees in these two Hosts. Despite their social conscientiousness that isolates, or their brash behavior that hurts, they are never left alone. People pry here, others check in there. They’ve tried to be alone. They have. Nils takes retreats back to Sweden to decompress, yet, ends up at the same, familiar night clubs at some point during his sojourn. Max will go to Seattle in the winter to escape the SoCal sun and still end up at some house party that some barista invited him to. Social creatures, but, ultimately, net negative in what they give back to the community. They talk about it and they’re aware. They can at least say that much. On their best days, they blame it on their own pursuit for beauty. On their worst days, they gladly blame it on their God complex. Lying to themselves or perhaps just stumbling from dopamine kick to dopamine kick, they’re bulldozing around. They’re doing their best. Everything is going to be fine. We’re all going to be fine. Even Josh is going to be fine…[TO BE CONTINUED].