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Sunday, 25 March 2012

My employment history as a minor video game character

It’s a hard recession we’re dealing with, I’ve recently had to find a job in the video game industry. Literally INSIDE of it, mind you, as I’ve spent the past year moving from job to job within the world itself. I vividly recall my internal monologue on the first (and more than likely, LAST) day of each job.

As a lemming

“Ok here we go...part of a team. We’ve all got uniforms and matching hair, like a delightful Reich. Let’s do...whatever we need to do. I mean, it’s just walking in a straight line amidst a vivid series of backgrounds right how hard could that- HOLYSHITHOLYSHITARHGGHHHHHH.

A trap door? How is that meant to motivate us? That is neither whimsical nor joyous, it’s a bloody safety hazard. I’ve definitely sprained my ankle. Ok, let’s get on with it, lemming #32 is leading the pack and he’s now a....basher. Yep, he’s totally bashing those walls in. I hope I get something interesting yet physically restrained, like...the guy with the bag of steps, that’d be pretty nifty, dictating how many levels we have. What’s that? You don’t want to go upwards? TOO BAD.

Oh, the mouse! The mouse is hovering over me! Here it is, my time to shine, I hope I don’t make an absolute arsenargler out of myself, as is my won’t.
Ok, so...umbrella? Nope not that. Pickaxe? Nope, I don’t have the arm strength anyway.

Oh damn it all....

A blocker? Really? I knew I should haven’t come out last, curse my well mannered civility. It’s one way! Nobody is going to turn around!
I don’t deserve this.
I'm so lonely.
I hope somebody signs me out at the end of the shift....

As a Mortal Kombat spectator

Ow...ow...ow...this is incredibly uncomfortable and ergonomically inefficient.
Couldn't they get me a stool instead of a poorly knotted noose?
So I'm getting paid to watch two flamboyant repressed rage-a-holics use elaborate martial arts and supernatural powers to determine the winner of some unknown tedious quarrel in some manner of...sinister, poorly lit woodland area?

Fair enough.

Oh, a spear to the sternum...that'll be a bit of a bugger. You think you've got it bad Pal? My neck's going to sleep here.
I need to scratch foot but my arm won't reach....this is my own Mortal Kombat...
Oh, ice ball. That's nice. A bit...ridiculous, but hey whatever you've got.
Oh! HA!
That guy just shot a fireball, and it brushed against my foot, thus removing the itch!
And a layer of skin, but that is irrelevant.
Are they still fighting? They should talk, or at least spend time apart till they cool off. HA, cool off...because he's been set aflame via a heat based energy projectile.
But I digress, they have some problems they should resolve in a more efficient manner.

Well, at least it's less homo-erotic than wrestling.

As an Abitrary Pokemon trainer

Oh right, I appear to be in sepia tone and have circles for hands. That'll be a bother in so many ways, not least with holding Cornettos.

So I just...stand in this grass and wait for people to enter my periphery before challenging them? This is borderline crude sexual assault, and inherently lazy.
I could at least get an mp3 player or a game boy if I'm going to be some dominating enraged scarecrow of a human being.

He's right there! Why can't I do anything...I can see him, he's just to the left of me. UNFREEZE ME YOU DOMINEERING MONSTERS OF GODS.

Ahh, right there we go.

Pokemon Trainer Pete wants to battle!

No, I don't want to battle. I am BEING FORCED TO battle. At least I'm getting paid for this violence fuelled Reich of a society.
Ok, I have a....level 14 Pidgey. That is expected as I imagine I spend all my time stood in place silently growing old and staving off death.

This man has a....level 64 Charizard.
Fuck my face.
You're fighting an orphanage with a fucking panzer tank here buddy.

And as expected, I have lost....
Wait. WAIT. I have to give him money?
That wasn't part of the deal! What jumped up fantastical cock fighting ring am I part of?!
I'm going to ask Officer Jenny for a job.

As a Dino crisis 2 background corpse

So I just lie about here in a grotesque cocoon of my own effluent entrails, gore and horrid filth whilst two people run about and fight violently deadly prehistoric creatures?

Fair enough.
I'll be here when you realise you need to backtrack for 20 minutes to get the flashing key on my belt.

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