P.Nokio
A Hip-Hop Musical
Orlando Family Stage • Orlando, Florida
Book and Lyrics by Psalmayene 24
Directed by Ke’Lee Pernell
Choreographed by Arius West • Music Directed by Brandon Martin
Starring Arius West, Adourin Jamelle Owens, Jared-Austin Roys
by Carl F. Gauze
You start out writing code with good intentions, but pretty soon that punch list of software bugs turns into a weeks-long coffee-fueled debug session. That’s what’s happening in G.Petto’s (Arius West) coding room.
But a compile here, an optimize there, and pretty soon he’s created a spanking new virtual buddy, P.Nokio (Adourin Jamelle Owens). Guiding a young person is always a challenge. You need to make them wise enough to fend off the ways of the world, but not so wise they get “ideas” in their head and turn down the wrong path. You know, video gaming night and day and not a moment to take out the trash.
G.Petto aims P.Nokio toward school, but as you might expect, he’s lured into the bright sparkle land of video games operated by Jared-Austin Roys’ “Machine Master.” The allure is strong. P.Nokio could just buckle down and learn to mix properly, but the fast thrills of Pac-Man and Donkey Kong lure him down the primrose path of cartoon poverty.
And it’s a poor, poor earning potential compared to more useful skills, like sweeping the floor and moving other men’s 2-bit coins to the personal savings vault of Nintendo. Can G.Petto guide the young man into becoming a sensible, tax-paying adult, or will he spiral down the rabbit hole of flashing lights and casino noises? I sure hope he does the right thing and goes to school.
Big pro tip here for the young: Don’t learn to play the games, learn to design them. That gives you the key to buckets of quarters, all for yourself.
This show ran to a packed house of sparkle-eyed youth and bemused parents. I could see the old nostalgic glow of the token eaters and memories of the arcade, back when classic games were still not quite classic yet. A graffiti-inspired set painted with glow paint drops moved the action forward as in any good musical, and we see that the classic storytelling motifs are still sound in today’s Futurama era.
The stage is painted in neon glow strips and black empty spaces, and the audience is encouraged to sing along and let the repressed six year old in you transform into a 2-bit powered adolescent. What lies beyond that event horizon? One never knows, but today you can still play every single one of those classic quarter-eaters on your cell phone. Your boss will never know.
