Archive for June, 2010

Desolation: Anamnesis – Stadium Hate II

Posted in Desolation on June 24, 2010 by GuNNhead

“Release the M.A.S.C. Ltd. “Cybosquid™”! C.H.A.O.S. will not lose this day!” the commanding voice reigned down from the loudspeakers.

Wall panels slide open sending more water flooding into the compound, carried along this current are creatures. I’d read about their possibility, but never suspected they had been able to actually create them. The half robotic squid quickly fuse into one giant monster, with a diamond sharp beak, and ten mechanical suctioned tentacles. It sends out a piercing electronic squeal as terrible techno music blasts from the speakers, and charges at me. I swim as fast as I can to the blackened, burning wreckage of the Verdigris Crush. I climb onto the chassis, and make my way to the fried firing mechanism; I use my universal interface, and fuse the wires together. I command the remaining turret, and just as the squid’s beak is hovering over me, ready to tear open the monster truck like it was tissue paper, I fire. The blast immediately fails, but I press the button again rapidly, and: success! The cannon ball blasts a hole through the mechanical aquatic sea creature, causing a magnificent mushroom cloud explosion of flaming black, inky oil.

I’d like to take a moment here to talk to you about the universal interface. It is an electronic device and symbol. It, and they, are separate things that are one. It, the symbol, means that one can interact with technology. It, the device, can be anything. It is about using a simple device, they are. It, the they it, is about logic, and counter-logic; it is about nothing but life, and nothing that is life.

I assimilate pieces of the creature, begin to scale the wall. Upon reaching the glass dome, where the spectators and owners/announcers C.H.A.O.S. are, I cut it open with the tip of the beak. Empty. Damn, I really wanted to shoot some people. A British voice booms over the loudspeaker:

“You fool! It was all a set up!” I know that voice, that’s the leader of C.H.A.O.S. I start running. “You made us a lot of money tonight, agent. Oh, I bet your friends at M.A.S.C. caught ‘their man’, the announcer, but, perhaps as your fellows are now finding out…” I run up the stairs of the rows of stadium seats. Cigar butts, lost initialed handkerchiefs, 10,000 forgotten purses, tumblers, and champagne glasses adorn the floors. “Yes, that’s right, he was simply another sleeper agent, a hypnotized buffoon! You’ll get nothing out of him.” I run through desolate back hallways, searching for anything that cloud lead to an exit. “Oh, and, you know, as a small payback for trying to create that pathetic M.A.S.C. team?” I’m slicing and kicking down doors, trying to find one that doesn’t lead to a cemented wall. “I made sure to go ahead and place the captive lead engineers into the squid, and pilot it by remote. I hope you enjoy their blood on your hands!” I’m searching frenetically.

“Oh, and by the way, you have about three seconds to escape.” I cut open the final door, and it leads out into the sky, nothingness, I run down a small hallway, and jump down several stories into the sea below as the entire coliseum explodes behind me.

Soon, a F.A.T.E. helicopter appears out over the horizon, homing in on my location. I begin to swim towards it, free from Stadium Hate.

Desolation: Anamnesis – Stadium Hate I

Posted in Desolation on June 22, 2010 by GuNNhead

I reluctantly turn the key in the ignition, and it roars up. I begin driving the narrow red and white striped pathway. There’s barely enough room for just this one steel cage on wheels. The oval track circles a large dirt pit, on a tier 18 feet above. I can practically smell the blood that the dirt’s been soaked in over the years. I hear the screeches of my tires echo into the darkened coliseum, seeing only the dimly lit track under me.

“Distinguished guests and colleagues. Tonight, I am proud to announce our special guest tonight: F.A.T.E.’s #1 secret agent!” Spotlights illuminate more of the track. It does not improve driving conditions.

The hidden crowd erupts into a chorus of cheers, boos, applause. They want my death. They bet money on it.

“And, of course, my own invention! The unstoppable, funstopabble, ever-loving fan favorite monster truck of malice, weighing in at over 25 tonnes: Verdigris Crush!”

A spotlight hits the center of the arena, and the floor begins to slide open. A green glistening roof emerges slowly spinning out of a hole, slowly revealing the giant twin cannons attached to its side, and then the rest of this massive machine, churning out a flaming black smoke. Once fully above ground, it guns the engine, and does a couple of glory donuts, kicking up the heavy dirt out from under its enormous tires.

“Now, let the fun begin!”

I increase my speed, occasionally scraping the side of the walls, testing for any signs of structural weaknesses. It’s all-solid. Red and white lines screaming under past me, I attempt to focus my attention on the monster truck setting its sights on my positions. It launches dozens of giant metals spheres of varying sizes directly at me. I keep driving, and they land directly behind me. They keep coming. Practice shots, calibration. Good, I need time to think. I can see that he next shot, however, is dead on. I slam on the breaks, and kick it into reverse, burning rubber as they come crashing down, the largest just in front of me; it would have demolished me. Others slam around me, twisting the weak steel bars around me.

The water starts rushing in. Gallons begin rushing out of pipes opening in the walls and ceiling. The track I’m on quickly begins losing any proper traction. Going in reverse as the driver fires the next round, I gauge my speed, and the main sphere hits the rear power source, freeing me from the pull of the electromagnetic cuffs. I leap clear of the wreckage as the next barrage totals that death trap. The explosion blasts me off the wall and I land in the water and dirt, debris falling at my side. The monster truck waits, unmoving. I stand to notice that the water level is rising way too fast, already almost up to my knees. I sprint towards the giant vehicle, torrents of water raining down on me. The truck comes barreling at me, with smoke and fire shooting from the top exhausts. I fake left, jump forward and to the right, back to the left, and jump. Making it between the tires on its left side, I hang on the undercarriage of the behemoth, and pull the break and fuel lines. At about seven feet deep now, the water is begins to reach me again with the tires splashing me, creating a small churning whirlpool just below. I climb up the front of the truck, and kick in the window, knocking out the helmeted driver as well. Just as I thought, they have my utility belt on them; must be pretty high ranked, having been given the honor of killing me. I take it from them, and weld the gas pedal to the floor with my multi-tool. I jump from the window back into the water, leaving behind the only explosives left on the belt. Trying to keep my head above water in this downpour, I watch the truck careen into a wall, exploding in a huge ball of flame.

MTV keeps it real

Posted in Administrative, Youtube on June 20, 2010 by GuNNhead

Hey, y’all!

http://casting.mtv.ca/promote.php?p=755

Check out that link! Wow, just look at it there. Amazing. So hypertextual.

Anyway, what it is about is that some hip dudes and dudettes I fathom to know have a shot at a mtv reality show, and we alllllll know how well those turn out for all involved, so, I’m rooting for them to get it! Will they make a new catchphrase? Will they be so obnoxious that you simply love to hate them? I dunno, but if it’s in montreal ,i’m sure this real life will be mathematical!

From wikipedia:
In many reality TV programs, camera shooting and footage editing give the viewer the impression that they are passive observers following people going about their daily personal and professional activities; this style of filming is often referred to as fly on the wall or factual television. Story “plots” are often constructed via editing or planned situations, with the results resembling soap operas—hence the terms docusoap and docudrama. In other shows, a cinéma vérité style is adopted, where the filmmaker is more than a passive observer—their presence and influence is greatly manifest.

Desolation: Anamnesis – The Lab II

Posted in Desolation on June 9, 2010 by GuNNhead

I walked around the observation deck against the railing, and took a right down towards the center of the facility. There was a single lit room at the end and to the left; right where I was heading. That’s when the smell hit me. The voice in my head told me to turn back. I’m an uninvited guest. Those… creatures I shot didn’t smell nearly this bad. I put on my rebreather, and made my way to the door. It was sturdy, locked from the inside. I looked into the window where the light was coming from, it was covered in claw marks same as the door, but that smell was coming from inside, and I needed what was behind that door.

I had an experimental explosive, some sort of Heptanitrocubane/Octanitrocubane compound, only about a pound, but enough to bring that entire place to the ground, after I got what I needed, of course.

I applied enough to bring it down. I walked past the first empty room, into the next and there I found a man on the other side, deformed, slightly deranged. A scientist. He didn’t attack.

“What’s gone on here?”

No answer. It just breathes, low and heavy.

“I asked what happened here? What are those things?”

“They’re… an experiment. We created it, but I was the only one who didn’t get turned into one of those… things. It was only a few weeks ago, but it’s all gone to hell. I’ve been surviving off the snack machines in this room. Thank god you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t thank anybody just yet.” I place a bullet between his eyes, and his body collapses. I power up the terminal behind him, and download the files.

I take off out of the room, to the four corners of this complex. Down each dimly lit corridor, I make haste, but keep an eye and an ear out for those lurking creatures. I stay on the outside hallways, and only run into one or two. In each of the furthest supports of the building, I place a portion of the explosives, and sync it up to my detonator. The final one has to go in the center, at the bottom of the atrium. I could potentially sneak into there, find a mass concentration of these creatures, sneak or kill my way to the center of them, unravel this mystery, and…

I walk up a flight of stairs, and proceed to the overlooking guide-railing. I sync up the final bit of explosive, and drop it into the pit. I hear moaning, spulching, squirming, sliding. The smell of old, soaked, pus-filled flesh soaks the air. I walk back into the blackened room, and through to the elevator at the end of the next hallway. I shoot the two speakers, and take it up. I walk out the front door, shooting the guard. With the building in the distance behind me, and my pick-up helicopter on the horizon, I detonate the charges, and the entire complex explodes from the ground in a ball of fire. I light a cigarette and continue walking across the frozen tundra.