The Unemployment Diary: How to Make a Good "Aliens" Game pt. 1

The Unemployment Diary:  How to Make a Good "Aliens" Game pt. 1 of 2

February 14, 2013

Valentine's Day

Day 5 of Not Having a Job

Ok, I know its been a while.  Cue the shitty Staind song.  I would appologize but I feel its better if we leave it at "I lost interest so I quit" than giving a half-hearted apology.  You don't like it, write your congressman.  So lets get up to speed shall we?  Since we have last spoken I have moved around in my job and it has led me to the point of hating it so much that I walked away from it...without a back-up plan...like an idjit.  Shit is done, nothing to do about it now, shit will work out (Hook a brother up).  The job market is balls nasty right now and while I though I would be desirable it turns out that I am not so much. 

It hurts.  It hurts deep inside.  

Anyway, I have been applying daily with high hopes and callused finger tips but lets move on.

We are having a baby boy at the tail end of May!  Huzzah!  We are having issues with deciding on a name but I am totally open to the suggestions of my loyal fans...if such people truly exist.  

Add that on top of turning 30 this year and I'm just frazzled.

The idea popped into my head the other day while applying for jobs and watching "The Amazing Spider-Man" (not bad and you're goddamn right I can multi-task) to pick up the laptop and make a journal of my days without work.  If it was grounded in reality it would be really bloody lame and consist of "Applied for X job, touched self, ate a poptart, touched self, cried, repeat" so instead it needs to have a fictional flair.  Now Ive been out the game for awhile so just bear with me.  The idea for this entry that I'm about to jot down came from a conversation with the Tarvis while on the way home from a mildy shitty job interview I had this morning.

P.S. If the Operations manager from a Pawn Shop chain wants to interview you in a Bob Evan's, just save yourself the time and pass.

So the Tarvis and I were excited about this new "Aliens: Colonial Marines" game coming out because we, like most sane people, enjoy the shit out that movie.  Honestly, in my rankings, its in a three-way tie death match for best movie ever with the other two being John Carpenter's " The Things" and George A. Romero's "Dawn of the Dead" (honorable mention to "The Evil Dead").  It seems that there is an unspoken rule when someone puts out a game based on he Aliens license and that rule is that the game must be god awful.  Don't believe me?  Look that shit up.  Aliens Vs. Predator on PC is the only goddamn exception and I'm including AvP2 in with it since it was a series.  Now, we were hopeful but we are not idiots so of course we didn't plan on buying it (well, I didn't but he fuckin' buys all kinds of shit so who knows with him) and of course the reviews that hit on release day backed up our decision to hold off.  All of the reviews say the same thing and that is that the game is the equivalent of warm mule cum.  I know, I know, don't listen to reviews and all that but I don't like to waste money so if the points in the reviews hit concerns that I had it becomes reasonable for me to take it and walk away.

The game feels rushed and unfinished, it is painful to sit through, it is glitchy and annoying.  

Sumbitch.

What we can't figure out is why it is so goddamn hard to make a Aliens game that isn't hot garbage.  After spitballing back and forth here is what we came up with.  Now, if someone from any Production House is reading this, I am willing to sell it to you for a modest sum but if any of this shows up in any new games I'll know you stole that shit.  Don't be that guy, Video Game Company.  Don't be that fucking guy.

Ok, here goes.

Finally.

(Are you still reading?  If you are, my hat goes off to you.  I quit trying four paragraphs ago.)

My thought is that the game needs to be broken into three chapters, each with its own different feel.  I'm gonna break this up into two parts because the intro ran longer than I thought and I know that none of you has the attention span to finish it all (also Emmy wants to play Strawberry Shortcake Memory).  The Alien franchise started off being all about the tension and the suspense of tight spaces and an unseen terror.  The first bit needs to re-capture that. This is what I would do:  Survey Team from Company X lands on Planet Y to investigate Cosmic Nonsense Event.  The team is composed of Hot Dumb Girl, Nerdy Quiet Guy, Brickchest NoNeck and Grandpa Know-it-all.  The team investigates cave system/desolate town/space craft and you are treated to some jump scares and odd noises with quick flashes of something that may or may not be a goddamn monster made of teeth.  Also, during the search Hot Dumb Girl puts the moves on Brickchest NoNeck but he turns her down because he is still in love with his dead wife/girlfriend/sister (???)/country.  As he storms off she is attacked by crazy space monster that is some sort of Dolphin/Badger hybrid that has eyeballs that squirt some crazy hallucinogen.  Goddamn thing looked adorable too didn't it?  That's why she went to pet it.  Idiot.  So, while she's trippin' balls she finds Nerdy Guy who looks like Ryan Reynolds in Amityville Horror now (Abs for Days) and puts the moves on him.  Unbeknownst to her they are being watched by a GODDAMN XENOMORPH!  Finally!  Now, while you're all "Hell yea, about time!" it cuts away and you don't get to see shit.  You know why?  Because the 'Morph is taking them to be cocooned for implantation, dummies!  DUH!  Brickchest will find the scattered clothes from the almost copulation and freak the fuck out, justifiably, and then start screaming.  Here comes the 'Morph!  Dumbass decides to shoot first and gets run through with a razor sharp tail.  Didn't see that one coming did you?  Now, guess who our protagonist is?  Grandpa Know-it-all, who was never in any kind of goddamn war and was just on this mission to kill some time until retirement because he's getting too old for this shit.  Up until this point Gramps has not been a playable character, you've only interacted with him in cut-scenes and shit so you have no idea what he is capable of.  Well it turns out that not only has he been taking down detailed notes of all the flora and fauna on this here planet (which was part of the goddamn job in the first place had you not been out there trying to have sex/kill everything you came across) but he has also been collecting supplies left behind by the workers/colonists/space goats.  Gramps is packing...packing some incontinence, a bad knee and a rudimentary knowledge of how to use a Plasma Rifle.  Gramps also has a map and a compass (maybe his name is Link, wouldn't that be clever) so he can find his way around.  He also tripped the S.O.S beacon back on the U.S.S. Macguffin when shit started to get wonky so yea, help is on the way.  Now, all you have to do is survive.  Easy peezy lemon squeezy.  Oh shit!  Whats that in the dark?  Comin at ya fast is some hot to trot 'Morphs!  They look pissed!  Well, they don't really have a look...you need facial features for that but I digress...Gramps drops some grenades and books ass back to the ship.  He runs up the open ramp into the belly of the ship (Open ramp = You're fucked because there is a goddamn monster in there, dummy) and get the doors shut just in time.  Now, at this point you've finally seen the monster in all its toothy glory but you have no idea how many there actually are because you've only seen a handful.  The tension is still there because they are still skulking around and being all ninja-esque.  Gramps makes some Space Oatmeal while he waits for rescue, not really concerned about the monsters outside because they have been unable to get inside the ship.  He receives a transmission stating that Company X's drop ship will be there in twelve hours so after sending them a briefing on the goddamn monsters he decides to take a nap.  He survived the ordeal and is going home.  Also, there are some unspeakable horrors outside.  He killed some monsters and all his friends are dead, which is fine because they were douchebags anyway.  Home free.

Except for the GODDAMN FACE HUGGER THAT SNUCK ONTO THE MOTHERFUCKING SHIP WHEN YOU IDIOTS LEFT THE RAMP DOWN YOU DUMBASSES!

BOOM!  

Now, by the time he wakes up the facehugger is lying dead on the ground and hes just like "The fuck was that thing?  Oh well, not my problem.  Alright, rescue team!  Time to go home!"

Cut scene of random new crew guy picking up the dead facehugger, looking disgusted and throwing it in the trash.  Ship takes off and we close on Gramps telling the female pilot that he is having some serious heartburn...the pilot that JUST HAPPENS TO BE HIS GRANDAUGHTER!

BOOM!  MOTIVE FOR REVENGE ESTABLISHED FOR INEVITABLE SEQUEL!

*Credits*

So, to recap we have:

- Tension

- Terror

- Protagonist/Antagonist

- Easily Followed Plot with Open end for Sequel

- Death/Dismemberment/Sex

- Crazy Space Monsters which you never see on any of these jacked up planets in these movies.  Come on people, there has to be more on these planets than the toothy beasts.  EXPLORE!

- You also know that the hero you didn't care about probably isn't the character you're playing in part 2.  Odds are its gonna be the plucky young granddaughter who will uncover some secret plot and become a bad-ass in her own right.

End of Part One.  

You Like it and I'll write part Two.

M.

So I don't know if anyone is paying attention to what is going on in the news but these "zombie" attacks are wiggin' my shit out.  The coke head in Miami and now that nutter in Maryland.  Two instances in a week that involved someone eating some else.  The kook in Maryland ate his roommates fucking brains and heart for Christ's sakes.  

Something is seriously wrong here.

Let's talk about it.  Why not?  I'm bored, got nowhere to go, got a frosty Blue Moon and some IMonster in my ears.  P.S. You should totally listen to "These are our Children" while you read this so you can get the creepy vibe that I have.  It is truly delicious.  Indeed.

Anyways, lets get on with this since I'm not making any money and most of you have forgotten about this little rag that I was so goddamn diligent about pushing upon you for months.  Sorry, I lost interest or realized  I was a shitty writer or what fuckin' ever.

Sec, need another beer.

K, better.

Ok, the cops shot that guy in Miami like six fucking times by the way.  He didn't give two tugs of a dead dogs cock.  He kept eating that guys face.  The dude in Maryland had his roommates body parts in cookie tins.  Merry fuckin' Christmas indeed.  Also, they took the victim from Miami to the Hospital.  Why the fuck would you do that?  You had the bright idea to kill the zombie but you save the infected victim?  He's gonna turn in that hospital.  Think about that.  All hell and its all your goddamn fault.

Man, this would go a whole hell of a lot faster if I wouldn't need to watch myself type.  How awful is that?  I type like ten words a minute.  Seriously.  I think Emmy can type faster than me. 

I can only feel that this is truly a sign on the End Times coming on.  Soon, we will be surrounded by Spiders as big as cars, Winged Bears and a black pres...heh...ugh...next.

In order to get to the bottom of this, I decided to call in a few favors from some people that don't actually exist except in the context of this story to make it more readable.  Ya see I'm rather boring so sometimes I make shit up in my head, usually on the drive home from work, that I think is fucking hilarious.  Now, I'm going to put it on the internet.

Why?

 'Cause I don't have Diablo 3 yet.

Suffer ye and feel my virtuous wrath.

I called up a scientist friend of mine that I met years ago at a convention in Switzerland.  What kind of convention you ask?

The Secret Kind.  Shut the fuck up.

"Daydream in Blue" is on now. I love these guys.

So I ask my scientist friend, Dr.Tsitneics, what's up with these cannibal shenanigans and he tells me that he thinks it has something to do with Lunar Eclipses, Sunspots and Universal Healthcare.  

Up Yours, Canada.

I mention that I'm beginin' to get freaked out and he tells me about this experiment that he's been working on, something about time and space continuum nonsense.   I proceed to ask him if Scott Bakula is involved or perhaps Jerry O'Connel.  Dead silence.  I move on.  He says that he has found a way to communicate with alternate universes and pipe the communications conveniently through the average cell phone.  I says fuck yea, that sounds tits.

So we find us a zombie universe.  So we can find out whats the deal and stuff.  In an odd turn of events, your personal cellphone number is linked through the Multiverse and every alternate you can be reached with it.  So, now I bring you some answers straight from Zombie Mike.

Mike - Hey buddy.  So, you're a goddamn brain eatin' zombie bastard then?

Zombie Mike - Raawwwrrr bllllaarrrgghh.

M - Aw shit.  Seriously?  Watta revoltin development this is.

ZM - *Chuckles and probably smirking like an asshole* Nah, I'm just playing fucknut.  Yea, I'm a fuckin' Zombie.  Whats up?

M - Am I that much of a dick?  Never mind.  Well, I'm calling to find out why you're a Zombie.  What happened to your world?  What drives you?  Why the fuck are people in my Universe starting to each each other?

ZM - Ok hoss.  One at a time.  I'm a Zombie 'cause some Zombie Bitch bit me.  I was just doin' my good Samaritan thing, trying to help some stranded girl out by giving her a ride.  You know?  Like in the porno movies?  Anyways, she goes all Red Robin on me (Yumm!) and takes a big ass chunk out of my shoulder.  Cold piss indeed.  As far as what drives me?  Pure motorized instinct, man.  Ain't shit else.  Zombies don't make movies or music and they sure as shit don't write books.  I'm bored as fuck most of the time because their are so few meals...people...left that I kinda just shut off and lurch around.  Not like we sleep yeh know?  It's just "Brains" 24/7.  Shit just gets old.  

M - I can imagine.  I'm bored most of the time but I don't eat anyone.

ZM - But you have Rape fantasies.  It's like the same thing.

M - What the fuck?

ZM - Don't lie to me dude.  I'm you.  Just slightly off-kilter.  Besides, who doesn't have Rape fantasies? 

M - ...

ZM - It is what it is.  Fuck, I'm hungry. Lemme check the fridge.  Be right back.  Don't hang up though.  Be a bitch to reconnect.  Verizon sucks in any universe.

M - Fucking rape fantasies....I don't know what the fuck...

ZM -  Shit, only Finger Foods in there.  HA! Get it?  A bowl of human fucking fingers!  Goddamn, even undead I still got it.  Fuck yea.

M - Ok, I don't think I can do this anymore.  

ZM - Pussy.

M - Well, you are what you...

ZM - Don't finish that thought unless you want some seriously nasty details. 

M - Ugh, never mind.

ZM - Alright bro, I think I hear some dumb ass humans creepin' round this bitch.  Gonna get my eat on.  Don't let the man get you down.  Also, watch your back.  Zombie Plague creepin' up on y'all.

M - K, thanks...take it easy.

*Click*

Holy. Christ. Balls.

Soiled: Body Parts

"Wotta revoltin' development this is".  

"El, just shut up for a second.  Please."

Donny looked at Griffon.  Hard.  Real hard.  Like a detective in some Noir novel staring at some dame that just wandered in off a rainy street.  You know the scene.  She comes in all legs and breasts, sits down in his chair and lights a cigarette.  She's frazzled of course but that's the drill.  He's in the corner pouring himself a scotch and hoping that he's gonna get up close and personal with those assets but he knows deep down that this bitch is a killer or thief or some other heinous creature and in about 300 pages shes gonna be stiffer than the front of his trousers.

"I done tol' ya boys.  Find me my heart and I'll usher ya on outta here.  That's it."  said the man in that deep, cigarette and whiskey groomed voice.

Donny looked at Elliot.  Elliot was looking at a crow sitting on a nearby headstone.  If you were to ask him, and of course no one would, he would tell you that said crow was plotting against him.  It was trying to lure him into a false sense of security so it could pluck out his eyeballs like fresh, skinless grapes and gobbled them right down.  

If you were to ask the crow it would agree.  

"Ok Old Man.  So you want me, and I say me because El is about as useless as a pecker on a Pope now, to find your heart for you.  Your solid Jade heart.  Your heart which you lost in some Postmortem poker tournament with one of these stenchy dead fuckers of whom you cannot recall which it was.  Here's an idea, Why don't you just ask them?"

Griffon snorted.  "I cain't jus' go about waking the gawd-demmed dead to ask some stupid fuckin' questions you little prick.  There's rules here just like in every world."

"But you can wake them for a Poker Tournament?"  Donny said is his best smart assed tone.

"Once a Century the Lady of this House allows these ol' Boys and Gals a night of fun.  I do mah best, as Caretaker, to provide them with that fun.  The very least anyone can do."

At the mention of a woman, Elliot returned his attention to the conversation, forgetting momentarily about the crow that was going to devour his facial features.

"Uhm, Lady?  What Lady?  Also, where in the blue green hell are we anyways?  No more cryptic bullshit either you shit kickin' good ol' boy bastard."

Donny shot daggers at Elliot.  Keep runnin' that jack-ass mouth of yours and hes gonna take that away too dumbshit is what he wanted to say but just kept his mouth shut.

"Boy, you best watch yer tone or you'll lose yer head.  Oh, sorry?  Sore subject I'm sure.  The Where is someplace akin to yer Christian Purgatory jus' we don't call it that.  We jus' calls it "The Boneyard" on account of that's all we can see.  Ya see, there's more than jus' Heaven, Hell and Purgatory boys.  There's a shit ton more than you city fed punks with yer Internets and Hybrid cars can even begin to fathom."

"Hybrid cars?  What the fuck are you on about?" replied Elliot.

"Oh, you think jus' cause I'm a dead 'ol cowboy I don't know my shit?  Listen here you dopey lil' fuck, I know enough to fill this whole damn galaxy with more shit than you ever will.  Now, if you can keep that rattle trap of yers shut for five fuckin' minutes I'll let you in on a little of it.  Deal?"

Donny picked up Elliot's head and nodded for him.  Elliot smiled a very nervous smile.

"Alright.  Jesus  Christ up in Heaven.  Ahem.  Anyway, you are here with us in the Boneyard.  This is my little chunk of the Ether.  I don' own it, don' misunderstand me, I just run it for Ms. Lorna.  Sweet gal but don't cross her and she hates smart mouthed lil' fucks even more than I do.  You copy me, Headley?"

"It's Elliot."

"I don' give a fuck if it was Davey Fuckin' Crockett with his gawd-demmed coon skin cap you little shit."

Griffon looked at Donny.  

"Ya see?  This is why yer here.  You have shitty taste for companions."

Donny just shrugged his shoulders.  He knew the man had him dead to rights.  Elliot was his oldest friend, his only friend really, it just seemed like he was constantly getting them into shit like this.  Hell, it was his fault they were here.  If he would have just backed off of that girl in the bar and gone home like Donny told him to they would not be having this strange ass conversation with the friggin' Ghost of the Old West here.

The girl was pretty, that much was true, she was pretty as hell but had that look of trouble.  Blonde hair, red lips and legs that started at the floor and went all the way up to her ass.  Elliot had no chance of walking away from that.  Donny kept telling him it was a bad deal, she looked familiar and so did the man in the pinstripe suit that she was with.  Tall dude with salt and pepper hair.  Looked like a more bad-ass George Clooney he did.  The two of them standing at the bar mingling with some other socialite types.  She was drinking a Margarita and he appeared to be drinking something the color of blood from a tall, slender glass. 

Elliot patiently waited for the man to wander off for the restroom, coke break or what have you and when he did, Elliot pounced.  The girl was very happy to speak with Elliot, hell, she was enamored with him.  She was like some simple minded mid-west girl visiting Hollywood and running into her favorite movie star.  Elliot was floored.  The deal was pretty much sealed.  She said her name was Esme and that she was a Succubus.  Now, Elliot had no idea just what the hell that meant so she responded by saying "Suck My What?  Let's have a drink first."  to which of course she laughed.  Oh, poor man.  His eyes kept telling his brain that she was trouble, there's a fire behind her eyes and her teeth are awfully sharp.  His nose chimed in with an observation that she smelled a little like Sulfur.  Sadly, his Dick was telling this brain that this shit was on like Donkey Kong and as always, The Dick wins.

Elliot turned to Donny and began to motion him to come over when he felt hot breath on his neck.  He turned to kiss tonight's lucky winner and found himself staring into a dark abyss.  The Man had returned.  He was none too happy.

"Excuse me", his voice like velvet dipped in honey, "Can I help you, boy?".

"Naw, this lady here and I were just getting ready to leave.  Gonna take her out stargazing and maybe get some Waffles."  said the drunken idiot,  "Nice to meet you, names Elliot.  That over there is my best bud in the whole wide world, Donny".  

He motioned to Donny and Donny nodded his head and smiled.  This was usually when the fight started.  Now, they weren't Brooklyn class brawlers but they gave as good as they got.  No, not really, it was about 50/50 in truth.

"Pleasure to meet you Elliot.",said the Dark Man in a Game Show host pantomime, "My name is Mr. Syn and I'm the man that's going to shatter your plans".

The world went black.

Soiled: Donny and Elliot

Thump.

Thwack.

Thump.

"Why do you always have to be such a dick-wad?"

Thump.

Thwack.

Thump.

"Seriously.  Why?  What the hell did I ever do to you?"

Thump.  Thump.  Thump.

"Blargh...why do I even try?"

Crunch.

"I don't know why you try", Donny said through a heavy sigh, "It's not like anyone really gives a shit about what you say.  If they did you'd prolly not be sitting here with me in this goddamn graveyard trying to find something worth selling."

Elliot looked at Donny and proceeded to roll his big blue eyes.  In truth they had become more milky than blue as of late but he was not going to acknowledge this.  Women always commented on his beautiful baby blues and that my friends, is called an Opening.

"Got a smart mouth on you for a glorified grave digger.  Wait, should I say grave robber?  It's so hard to keep track of your career anymore.  Doin' whatever shit job pops up because heaven knows yer not reliable enough to have a real one."

Donny snorted and spit out a mouth full of grave dirt.  

"And you call me the Dick-Wad you sanctimonious load?  If I'm such a douche, why the hell are you here he asked again as if someone was blatantly ignoring him so they could hear the sound of their own goddamn voice?"

"You damn well know I have no other choice, Buster.  You and me are tied together.  Now and forever.  Like a good married couple. 'TIll death do us part or whatever."

"You mean undeath I'm assuming?" Donny Chuckled.

More eye rolling.  

"You know what I meant asshole.  See?  This is why you never had any friends back in the Real.  Because you are a dick.  There I said it.  You are a dick.  Do you feel better?  I know that I do with that huge weight now off my chest."

"El...I don't give a shit what you think or how you want to describe me.  You and I are here for a reason.  We screwed up.  We screwed up real big and pissed off the wrong guys.  Guys that don't give you a second chance.  Guys that would just as soon cut off you head or throw you in a river gift-wrapped in a burlap sack."

"I don't know if they were all that bad.  Maybe we could have reasoned with them?"

Donny looked at Elliot, took a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and lit it.  

"Elliot...they cut your goddamn head off and threw me in a fuckin' river.  Did you try to smooth them over while they were sawing through that stack-of-dimes neck of yours?  I sure as shit didn't have the chance to do jack while they loaded me into a child molester van and chucked me into the Mighty Mississippi."

Elliot opened his mouth to speak but the words didn't come.  He went to cough but it appears that such a simple action is impossible to one who no longer has a throat.

Donny lowered his head, picked up his shovel and went back to digging.

"Why did you pick this guy anyways?"  Elliot said, using his nose to point at the headstone, "The hell is Mervin Peachtree?".

"Dunno.  Figured that this was as good place to start as any.  Not like Griffon gave us a map and said Dig Here Yeh Poncy Jackasses.  Can you still see or do I need to move that bowling ball head of yours?"

"Please".

Donny stepped from the graves, three feet or so in, and grabbed a patch of black curls on Elliot's head, moving him to the top of the late Mr. Peachtree's headstone.  Elliot grunted in pain as he did this but it was purely reflex.  He couldn't feel shit.  Donny knew this because he was devoid of feeling as well.  Perhaps this happens in death or maybe its something to do with being stuck in this Limbo.  

Who knows?  Someone does but fuck 'em, they ain't here and these dead folks ain't helpin' any either.

"The hell are you looking for anyways, Donny?"

"Jesus Herbert Christ do you listen at all?" said an agitated Donny, "That Griffon guy said we needed to find something for him and he'd let us out of here.  Something he lost to one of these stiffs in a card game but fucked if he remembers what it was he lost.  All he said is that it was the color of Jade and the size of a fist.  I don't know about you but I don't like it here.  Place is giving me the jibblies..."

Almost on que there came a howl not unlike a wolf only larger.  The howl was followed by a rustle in a nearby bush and the clang of the padlock on the cemetery gate as it blew in the wind.

"The hell are we anyways?" Elliot whispered.

Dark, heavy laughter came from behind the boys and Donny jumped with a start, swinging the shovel backwards and knocking Elliot from his perch.

"SONOFABITCH!", Elliot shrieked.

A tall, slender man in a dirty brown trench coat stood before them.  Silver strands of hair hung beneath a hat that he must have stole from Indiana Jones.

"You boys, y'all got yourself in a sticky bit o' trouble yes ya did." Griffon said in a voice that he clearly stole from Sam Elliot or vice versa.  "Little feller over there should have kept his gawd-demmed hands to his gawd-demmed self.  Would have kept yeh both alive if yeh weren't such gawd-demmed fools.  Now lookit yeh.  Stuck here in Limbo as a dead drowned boy and his severed head pal.  Ha!  Watta mess you two jerk-offs are."

"Uhm...hey Griffon...we were just talkin' about you man.  Any chance you can lend us a hand findin' this thing?"  Elliot said through chattering teeth.

"I'll give yeh a heads up as it were boy, but first lets talk about this place and what yer gonna do ta get out."

How I Feel About Santa Claus After Seven Blue Moons.

I don't know if y'all are aware of this but it's December.  You know what happens in December?  Yea you do.

Work Sponsored Christmas Parties.

So, Danielle is a Waitress and her Work Christmas party was this evening (Read: Open Bar).  

Now I myself have not been "a drinker" for quite some time.  I have some serious family issues and most of it stems from people deciding that it's ok to get lit and then hit everyone else.  Something about self-esteem or some other new age psycho babble bullshit.  I partied but I did it long ago and not to any legendary extent.  I mostly would just get shitty, kiss a guy on the face, slap him and laugh like a jack-ass.  

Yea, life of the bleeding party this one was.  

Anyways,  stuff makes me feel like shit so it's just better this way really.  

Two sad things though, one being that while I am a large dude I'm also a huge light weight when it comes to alcohol.  The other is that while I can be funny when I'm sober I'm hilarious when I'm drunk.  I know everyone says the same thing but I ain't no goddamn son of a bitch. 

You better think about it, baby.

Open bar means free beers.  I drank me some beers.  I developed a deep love for Blue Moon this evening.  

Oh Blue Moon, you are so goddamn tasty, what with your Orange slice and your smooth texture...

Ahem.

So on the way home we begin to discuss Santa Claus.  I don't know why.  I was inebriated after all.  Now Danielle's cousin Nicole was with us and I don't think she has ever had the pleasure of my idiot ass when i'm topped off.  Danielle starts to make fun of her ghetto ass Christmas tree which causes Nikki so retort with some jibber jabbber about Santa and Mrs. Claus statues standing on opposite ends of the tree.  You know, like they are fighting.  For some reason I decide to start in on the freaky sex life that they would have to have.  Dude spends every day with elves.  Think about it.  You know them elves be getting freaky.  Like midgets all hopped up on Goof Balls.  This leads into why the French don't they have any kids.  Is he sterile?  Is she?  Does he actually hate children but he's stuck doing this job like some kind of penance for sins past?  Why would she stay with him if he can't give her children?  I'll tell you why.  He's goddamn Santa Claus.  How is any other guy gonna compete with that?  Jesus could i'm sure but I don't think he and Santa are on good terms anyways.  Seriously though, what the hell would you talk about on a date?  

"Oh, i'm recently divorced.  My husband?  Oh, he's Santa Claus.  I don't want that to drag you down though.  I like that you're an Accountant".

Game Over you fat bastard.

Maybe he's like Zeus and just knocks up chicks all over the world every year on Christmas.  Think about it.  They're both old.  They both have a penchant for serious Bearding.  They're both generous with gifts. 

I bet they shop at the same stores.  They're simpatico.

Sandworms man.  You know I hate 'em.

Meh, as long as he brings me an XBox and a Northface jacket I don't give a shit what he does.  Or who.

Jingle all the way, you son of a bitch...and to all a good night.

World's Edge: Unkillable Monster by M & K

Here sits a Diner.  A Diner full of the Dead.  The air is heavy, the place silent.  

The front door, desperately in need of oil, creaks open.  

A man walks in.  His head is down, shaggy Black hair covers his eyes.  He is dressed in a white button up shirt and black slacks.  His tie is Crimson with a Windsor Knot.  A small silver chain connects it to his shirt, the pin on the chain is the Shape of a Snowflake. 

If anyone ever asked him his favorite season, he would say Winter.  Sadly, that question will remain unasked.  

He steps gingerly over the corpses on the floor, sighing at the sight of them.  He thinks to himself about the wasted potential surrounding him.  He surveys the scene, taking an object from each body.  Wallets, watches, earrings, etc.  He moves to the booth closest to the door and sits down.  He then lays the objects on the table in an orderly line.  He begins to touch each in turn.  Feeling the weight of the wristwatch in his hands, leafing through the wallets, he breaths in the smell of their former owners.  His green eyes roll back into his head as it begins to loll from side to side.  He breathes in deep and holds it.  He begins to tap his fingers rhythmically on the table as he exhales.  

He begins to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing forearms covered in blue and black markings.  The markings are names.  Names of those that he has met along his journey from its beginning.  They are the names of those he has taken from this world.

"You can come out now", his voice like a whisper, "they've gone from this place."

The air in front of him begins to shiver.  It begins to take shape.  The form of a man appears.  He is old, with long gray hair pulled into a ponytail and a mustache.

"Barlowe.  It has been a long time my friend".

"I am not your friend, Bayne.  Friend is not a word I use to define myself in any capacity.  Woe onto you if you truly feel that you mean more to me than the puddle you are sitting in.  Also, you reek of fear."  Barlowe snorted.  "I find that to be delicious."

Bayne shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.  

"Ahem, I've come from on high to bring you a message.  He has use for you again.  He said that your time of wandering is done.  He needs you eliminate an obstacle from his path."

"He wants me to handle Nazareph.  The one He Christened as the Righteous Frost.  The one He Handpicked to fill the spot left by Lucius when he lost his edge and later his head.  Correct?" Barlowe said, already knowing the answer.

Bayne nodded his head.  He looked around the Diner.  The sight of the dead made him uncomfortable.  Barlowe could see it in his mannerisms.  A twitch here, a shake there.  He was chewing his lip in nervous anticipation of getting to once again fade into the ether.  

Barlowe wanted to see him sweat. 

He closed his eyes and lifted his hands to his face.  He opened his mouth and caught the small blue flame that escaped.  He caressed the flame in his hands, like a small pet.  It began to divide.  He threw the flames into the air.

Bayne watched as the flickering blue lights drifted through the diner, settling down on the corpses strewn on the floor.

The bodies began to stir.

"Please...." he said.

Barlowe smiled at him.  His teeth like daggers in his mouth only they were too long.  His lips began to bleed, the blood ran down his chin and began to pool on the table.

"No.  Please...I only came to bring the message..." Bayne cried out as the bodies moved to surround him.  They twitched horribly, almost as if they were in horrible pain.  Their eyes were solid white, their mouths hung open, teeth gnashing in the open holes.  

"Goddamn you...do the job you son of a bitch.  Do the job and then go away forever!" Bayne screamed as a hand groped for his shoulder.  

He snapped his fingers and disappeared into a cloud of smoke.

Barlowe looked unto the faces of the dead.  They stood motionless, awaiting his command.

With a flick of his wrist they crumpled to the ground.  

He sighed again, a sigh of pure annoyance.  

He watched as four new names appeared on the inside of his forearm.  He said goodbye to his new friends and assured them that they would never be forgotten.  They belonged to him now.  The time would come when he would call on them again.  Before the journey was ended he would call on them all.

They were all one inside of him.

He stood up, fixed his shirt sleeves and walked to the door.  He stepped outside into the rain.  He looked up into the sky and spoke.

"I'll do this deed.  Sadly, the cost will be greater than even You can imagine."

He began to walk down the street towards a dark alleyway.

The Zombie Discussion: Maybe She's Right but I'd Never Want to Say "I Told You So"

I am terrified of Zombies.  

If you know me this is no secret.  Not even a little one.  I will shut the Front Door Down when it comes to Zombies. 

Seriously.

Why?

When I was but a young lad and should have had a childhood filled with things like Disney and Dr. Seuss, my caregivers decided to forgo my well-being for their own needs and fed me a steady diet of R-Rated Sex, Violence and Horror.

Sounds shitty right?  

Actually, on the overall, I don't really care.  Hell, it probably attributes in some way to the person that I am today.  That guy is alright in my book.  

To clarify, I have no book. 

Now, I don't follow that philosophy with my own child.  Danielle and I agree that The 'Dozer doesn't need to watch that at this age (Read: 2 1/2).  When she's older, hell yea, I'm gonna teach her the awesomeness of George Romero, James Gunn, Peter Jackson, Sam Raimi, Neil Marshall, Dario Argento, etc. but not until shes like, 4 or so.

Sheesh, I am not Nazi Germany over here.  I believe in fun too.

Back to business.  I watched tons of horrible things in my childhood.  You were watching The Grinch and I was watching Killer Klowns From Outer Space.  Can you dig it?  I SAID, CAN YOU DIG IT?  

I knew you could.

As I write this, we are watching My Little Pony.  This serves to embarrass me as well as drive home my point.  

Ahem.  My fear started when I was around 5 years of age I would guess.  My caregivers had decided to throw us in the car and head out to the local Drive-In (Read: Breese, IL).  What's a Drive-In you ask?  Why, it's a huge projection screen out in the fresh air that you watch from your car.  They pipe the sound in through individual speakers or through your car radio.  Odd right?  I know...

Man, Drive-Ins were totally awesome.  

It was a Saturday Double Feature Night.  First was Beetlejuice, one of my favorite films to this day and in my honest opinion Michael Keaton's finest work, followed by Return of the Living Dead.  

Bingo.  Game Over.  Stick a fork in me.  I'm Done.

I had never, to this point, been so goddamn scared of something that I completely shut down.  Never.  I've seen some terrible shit mind you, like the entire catalog from the old Full Moon Entertainment production house.  This though...this warped me. 

Beetlejuice was awesome.  The bit where he turns from stair bannister to homicidal snake still messes with me but I digress.  It always leaves me feeling a little off, even to this day.  Movie did it's job as far as I'm concerned.

Return of the Living Dead.  Man...I didn't watch another zombie movie for twenty years.  I forced myself to go see the Dawn of the Dead remake in the theater so I would have to break my fear.  After that, I loved everything zombie...except Return of the Living Dead.  I even bought the special glow-in-the-dark DVD that came out a few years back so I could give it another go.  I got five minutes in (maybe) and wigged out.  

Any idea what it's like to be crippled by somethings that's not even real?  It's a Goddamn Bitch that's for sure.

Why does it mess with me so much?  It's because they talk.  Simple as that.  They talk and plan and scheme and give me the Heebie Jeebies something fierce.  Also, they don't die (Read: Redundant).  Destroying the brain don't stop 'em.  They just want to eat you.  Specifically, they want to eat your head...I can't even type that they want to eat your brains...ugh...goddamit....

Gives me the chills.

So, Danielle and I watch The Walking Dead every week and I'm currently reading World War Z which on occasion brings up the subject of the Zombie Apocalypse.  We were out doing some Christmas Shopping last night and someone on the radio commented on something about idiot people and a zombie apocalypse.  So we start talking.  She doesn't get how I can be so tripped out by this but I do.  Years ago I had an article featured on a website that no longer exists which laid out my survival plans in detail.  Now, while it was nowhere near the planning of the Handbooks you can find on the subject now, it was huge for me.  

See?  I've been a shitty writer for like, a decade.  Ha!

Fact is, I don't know what I would do.  I truly don't.  I'd like to think that I could hold my shit together and help to re-establish humanity and all that hero trite garbage but in reality, I just want to save the asses of those that I love and cherish.  If I saw someone I loved go down, I think I'd snap.  Probably not to the point of giving up but I think I'd dump out my Marble Sack and not get all of them back in.  I like to think I'd be more Rick than Shane but you just never know.  

So much would depend on when and where it all started.  It really would.  I can only hope that I would not be at work.  Sorry gang.  As much fun as it would be to fortify that joint and just hold up until the Armed Forces or Jesus arrived, I would want to be with my family. 

I like to think that I'd be able to shut off the emotion section on my brain and just start dispatching of those monsters all around us but I'm pretty sure that is some type of conditioned response...unless you're just broken to begin with.   That's what I think our collective problem would be.  I don't think that, at least initially, people could do what needed to be done.  You'd have people hiding Zombie bites and stashing corpses.  Messed up shit.  Like, barn full of Zombies messed up.  

Lord above, how could you ever think that would be a sane idea?  Come the Funk on, man.

It would be chaos.  Straight up.  All of these people that think they have a leg up because they wrote a book or made some fan film or played a ton of FPS games...garbage.  Just garbage.  You're no more prepared than anyone else.  Deal with it, champ.  Sorry.  

Ask yourself how you would handle it? I know, it's a near impossibility but still.  Ask.  Realistically.  Do you ever walk into a building and immediately notice a structural weakness that would get you Iced?  No?

Perhaps you should start.

While Danielle thinks that I'm nuts for being scared of this stuff, how far off are we from it?  Whats stopping some Umbrella Corp. type shit from happening?

Nothing.  Everything.  Who knows.  Not me that's for sure.

Let's Make a Deal Right Now.  Me and You.

Yes, You.

This goes down, you see me in danger, help a ninja out.  I'll do the same.

Just keep hold of your damn self.