Destructoid reviews editor, responsible for running and maintaining the cutting edge videogame critique that people ignore because all they want to see are the scores at the end. Also a regular features contributor and news commentator, as well as the host of Podtoid, Destructoid's psychologically distressing podcast.
Check out more of your ol' pal Jim on the weekly Escapist show Jimquisition, as well as a range of semi-regular articles including Art Juice, Blatantly Better, and at least two other things!
On this episode of Sterling Tackles Fanfiction, Destructoid's British editor turns his writing talents to the world of Silent Hill, one of his favorite game franchises of all time. What will happen when Sterling attempts the most flattering of all fan works, the noble fanfic? Read on to find out ...
As James Sunderland made his way to that forbidding town, all he could think about was Mary. And the tent in his pants caused by his large penis. Mary had often remarked about the size and strength of his six inch, uncut battleship, so vast and giant as it was.
On the way to Silent Hill, James had stopped in Brahmes for some much needed sustenance. He thought back to that fateful stop and the fact that he quite clearly had gotten a semi-on before entering the cafeteria. Had the waitress seen it? Obviously, the walk from the car to the cafe' diverted blood flow and may have reduced the size of his penis a bit, but he could feel intermittent pulses in his shaft as he ordered a coffee, he knew that it had to have been visible to some degree ... but how much?
Sunderland had been caught in that trap, the one where you think about naked girls just before you're due to stand up, and you know that it's the worst possible time because then there's a risk everyone will see your pubic piping, but you can't stop thinking about naked girls because if you did, you'd then not be thinking about naked girls anymore. Unfortunately, James did not have a briefcase or a bag he could idly hold in front of himself as a not-too obvious means of camouflaging his offal. Maybe it never came across as natural, he thought to himself. Maybe it was still blatant to everyone that he'd gotten a great parping trumpet every time he held a bag out in front of his rigid donk.
"Mary ... could you really be in this town?"
James wondered aloud to himself as the fog grew denser. He slowed his car and gazed upon the beauty of Toluca Lake.
"Nobody's around. A good thing too, because I'm hard as fucking nails down there."
James opened his car door and stepped outside, looking southward at the notable lump in his pants, looking a bit like that scene at the beginning of Aliens where Ripley is having the dream about the chestburster coming out but it stretches the skin and it looks really gross. Only not so gross, because James Sunderland believed his penis to be magnificent.
"Ah, a bathroom.
A quick blast of the old white treacle up against a cubicle door never hurt anybody."
And with that, James Sunderland took his first step into Silent Hill, and a nightmare that would claim both himself ...