I live in Whitehall, Pennsylvania. Anyone who lives close to Allentown knows that for the entirety of the day today (12/27/08) the area has been under the oppressive reign of a pea-soup fog the likes of which weíve not seen in months. Given that I am a tremendous fan of Konamiís (generally) brilliant Silent Hill series, the fog tends to make me a tad nervous. Nothing makes going out to the backyard to beat a carpet or take out the garbage more of a chore then having to shamble along, burdened by the fear that a white beastie with a toothed vagina in the middle of its head, who makes up for its lame legs by being able to pull itself along the ground with a collection of rusty meat hooks that have replaced its fingernails may or may not be waiting behind the shed to leap out and dismember me.
What follows is a transcription of a text message conversation with my best friend James that was originally started to figure out whether or not he wanted to do anything tonight. I believe any Silent Hill fan, which includes many of you fine people here at Destructoid will get a kick out of it. Itís proof positive that; 1) Game journalism is probably the only career wherein I could peaceably exist without appearing insane to coworkers, and 2) Nothing brightens up your afternoon like having games so deeply engraved into the brains of you and your friends that moments like this occur at random. Enjoy!
(The area out behind my house - An approximation)
Me: Iím afraid to leave the house. Itís clearly silent hill out there now.
James: ha. Just carry a lead pipe with you.
Me: No good. My combat engine was specifically designed to respond poorly to simulate the struggle of an everyday man with no combat experience. Iím f#%&n done for.
James: god damn it. Time to get out the game shark.
Me: Last time I used one it fried my memory card slot. I guess we canít hang tonight. Ash babies everywhere.
James: ok hereís what you do. If you see a creepy looking hole in your wall, just reach in and see what happens.
Me: Oh ok . . . WOW! A red cog. Maybe this will power the decrepit iron lung covered in black vines that mysteriously replaced my fridge this morning.
James: yeah, that sounds about right. Just make sure not to use your flashlight while installing it. Youíll attract flying demon babies with upside down heads, bat wings, and legs for arms.
Me: Too late . . . Here they come. Oh crap. I think they may be symbols of my own suppressed sexuality and dormant issues with my father. I hate fog.