German Blogger, writing the series "The worst thing about censorship is ███████ " (go check it out!) since I like to write about that topic and am invested in it a whole lot. Also writes some other stuff sometimes. Likes to listen to very strange bands and has the ultimate goal in life to taste every soft drink there is at least once.
Pure Gonzo - and while I thank god for Jim Sterling sometimes, I thank god for Hunter S. Thompson every day.
I'm a bastard. Don't trust me. Always keep asking, don let yourself get fed bullshit - not even by me.
I like good games. Yes, that's quite general, but I don't really like confining myself to certain genres. I like interesting approaches, invention and creativity. But I can enjoy a straight-up shooter as much as a "Bastion". It just has to be done well and appeal to me on some level.
Want to know anything else? Just leave a comment under a blog or write a message. Same goes for corrections (please), as English isn't my native language and thus isn't nearly perfect.
"Alright everybody - this is Ratchet!" Dale patted the young man on the back of his red t-shirt while speaking to the busy office. "He'll be our new intern, so be nice and show him around, okay?" Destructoid's editor-in-chief pointed over to the workplace of Andy Dixon, who was typing away. "Go over to Andy, he'll take of you."
"Yes, sir." Ratchet nodded eagerly and did as he was told.
"Hiya.", Dixon greeted him without looking away from the screen, "I'll take care of you in a minute, just gotta finish this, okay?"
"S-Sure, Mr. Dixon.", the youngun answered, looking around very interested.
"Heeey guys!" Jonathan Holmes came down the stairs, holding a little remote in his hands, "Guess what? I installed wireless speakers all over the building so we can listen to music all the time. Swell, huh?"
Ignoring the announcement Dixon hit the "Send" button and turned over to the new intern.
"Sooo~. You are the intern. Ratchet, was it?"
"Alright then." Dixon rubbed the palms of his hands with each other. "Let's start off with the easiest thing: what do you want to know?"
"Well, uhm..." He scratched his chin for a second, while the sound of the original Pokemon battle theme was filling the office room, as Holmes was fiddling around with the remote. "Why don't you just tell me about the article you just wrote?"
"Oh, that was no article." Andy waved his hand. "Just a little contest. Blizzard send over some boxes with BlizzCon packages." He pointed over to 20 white boxes with blue bows around them, all neatly stacked up to a pyramid.
"That seems like an awesome prize."
"Haha, yeah. Will probably attract a shitload of readers."
Hamza, working on his own article, wanted to grab his coffee, but paused mid-movement. There were ripples showing in his coffee? He watched the waves for a few seconds and examined his desk for a moment, then stood up. He couldn't hear anything, except the Pokemon Red/Blue soundtrack blaring over the speakers that Jonathan spent two days hanging onto the walls everywhere. Slowly Hamza walked over to the windows. His eyes widened.
"READERS!!", he yelled and turned around, "A WHOLE READER MOB!!!"
Within seconds the rest of the crew stood next to him. They all could see them on the horizon. It was a whole mob of black creatures, resembling more like an obscure lead pencil drawing than a real human. They white, pupil-less eyes staring always straight, never blinking. It was like a real wave of them that was moving towards the Destructoid HQ. The whole mob was running, plunging and trampling over each other. Their screams could already be faintly heard.
"All right guys, we trained for this!", Niero barked and clapped his hands twice, so everybody would snap out of the trance like picture the mob was, "Hamza, you protect Dale at all costs!"
"Roger that.", Hamza confirmed with a short salute.
"Rick, Jordan, Holmes - carry the prizes into the second floor. They must be protected."
"On it!", they answered simultaneously.
"Dixon, you take care of the entry hall."
"Sure thing, man!", Andy answered, smiling wide, with a thumbs up. He grabbed Ratchet. "You're coming with me kiddo."
"B-B-But what? What is going on? Where are we going?"
"To war, my friend!", Dixon laughed enthusiastically, "TO WAR!"
"War?!" Panic was swinging in Ratchet's voice.
"Naw, just kidding!" Andy was still laughing, "You see, apparently you were right. The BlizzCon packages are so great, we caused a mob of readers to spawn from all over the internet. Usually they spread all over the sites, but now we drew all the aggro. So we have to defend ourselves a little bit.", Destructoid's community manager explained and they stepped into the entry hall of their office building. "Of course we're prepared for this."
With his fist he hit a big red button on the wall. With a loud, deep humming noise thick metal plates started descending over the windows and glass doors. Ratchet watched that, being truly impressed. This sure wasn't how he expected his first day as an intern to be. A loud creak resounded through the entry hall and the metal plated came to a screeching halt, only covering about half of the windows and doors. Clearly confused Andy pushed the button again, but to no effect. He pushed it a few more times and still nothing happened. He started to laugh with his mouth closed.
"Oh man... NOW we're fucked!", he laughed.
"W-What? What's happening?"
"Well, our shelter mechanics are broken.", Dixon explained, "So we have to take defense in our own hands.", he added, becoming completely serious all of a sudden.
With one hand he grabbed the girdle of his pink dressing gown and pulled the knot open. As it was pulled apart by ghostly hands, the bathrobe was pulled a bit back and exposed Andy's body. In horror Ratchet awaited the things he would see - and he was sure he could never unsee - but then pulled up his eyebrows in confusion.
In Dixon's crotch there were no genitals. Instead there was a second face! The black, slightly curly hairs were filling up the place were any normal human would have pubic hear. Just below that was a sunglasses wearing face of Andy Dixon, smiling as happy as a person ever could be. It didn't seem to breathe - or to be alive for that matter - but it looked very real.
"Let's go!", Andy yelled.
The smiling crotch-face closed his mouth and it's cheeks started to fill up, to the point where it almost looked comical. Then, with a sparkling sounds like one knows it from cartoons when fairies or other magical creatures appear, it started to puke out a rainbow colored liquid. While it puked the pressure varied and Andy, hands folded into each other behind the back of his head, shook his hip around. It only took a few seconds until the whole hall was covered in rainbow colored liquid. A bit exhausted Andy breathed out clearly audible, then closed his wardrobe again.
"Well, this should buy us some time. Let's go, kiddo.", he said as if he just did the most normal thing in the world. Retched still stood there and stared at the now rainbow colored entry hall for a few seconds, before walking backwards and following Dixon.
"Bad new everybody!", Dixon announced back in the office rooms and stretched his arms into the air, "Our security system has broken down! So the mob will most likely break down our entry doors in-" A loud crashing noise was heard behind. "Right now!"
"Up! Up! Up!", Dale barked, "Fall back to the upper level!"
Ratchet looked back in horror and saw the black creatures breaking into entry hall. Once they set foot on the rainbow colored liquid Andy spewed all over the place, however, the slowed down to a crawl. It was like watching them in slow motion. Although that didn't help too much, because they were still running and stumbling over each other, thus slowing them down only slightly.
Holmes grabbed the last of the boxes and ran up the stairs. Andy stopped halfway.
"Ratchet!", he yelled, "Come on!"
But the intern stood there, frozen, not even hearing how someone yelled at him. And then the mob conquered the trap. Within what felt like a blink of the eye Ratchet was swallowed up by the black mass, while the original Pokemon battle theme was played through the speakers.
"Come on!" Rick grabbed Andy's shoulder and pulled him up. "He is already dead!"
The second Andy set foot on the second level the door was slammed shut and bolted behind him. But the mob seemed unstoppable and starting slamming against it. Almost instantly the pushed against it.
"Fuck!", Dale cursed loudly, the readers still banging against the door so hard that he feared it would be ripped apart. More and more dents started to show up. "There's not helping it! We need HIM!"
Hamza was the first to realize what he meant by that.
"You are MAD, Dale!", he answered back.
"The door is down to 75% and in two or three minutes it will be gone completely!"
Another fist-sized dent showed up in the door. A screeching, sharp hissing could be heard from the other side of the door.
"I want to wiii~n!"
"Priii~zeee~sss~! GIVE MEEE~!"
"We need some AOE damage right now! RELEASE THE STERLING!", Dale yelled his order.
Hamza resisted for a second, cursed to himself and ran through the second floor of the office building. He just jumped and ran over the desks, not caring for the stuff he kicked down on his way.
"Holmes! Could you PLEASE turn off this fucking battle theme?!"
"S-Sorry... I dropped the remote on the first floor.", he apologized.
Approaching a door that was barricaded with some warning tape, Hamza pulled out a key. He ripped down the tape as fast as he could and simply kicked the door open. Behind it was a room that looked like it was a gate into a medieval dungeon. It was just a small room whose walls and floor were made out of cobblestone. A small window was up far above the inmate, letting only a little blot of sunlight in. Chained to a wall with thick metal chains, Jim Sterling cowered on his knees, only wearing a small loin cloth. Hamza swallowed.
"What do you...?"
"We need you!", Hamza interrupted him, kneeled down and started to fiddle with the first of the two rusty locks, "A reader mob has stormed the building. You have to drive them back, they've taken the first floor already.", he explained hastingly.
"You keep me offline... and now this?"
"Oh for fuck's sake, Jim! You are DANGEROUS with a connection!" He sighed clearly audible. "Remember the Modern Warfare 3 review? Remember the shitstorm? Remember how many died?!"
"Why should I help you?", he murmured, as the first lock sprang open.
"Because once we fall those readers will eat you alive. Literally, most likely. Or they'll talk with you about review scores."
Jim looked up as Hamza said that, his lips starting to curl.
"Unlock me faster!"
"On it, on it... But this lock is really damn rust- here we go!"
The second lock sprang open and Hamza, not sure what Jim's next move would be, took a few cautious steps back. For a few seconds Jim rested on his knees, than he stood slowly up. Without a word he walked past Hamza and straight towards the door the rest of the staff were still holding, his little leather loin cloth flapping back and forth with every step. With a mixture of fear and respect they stared at him, while still pushing with all their weight against the door.
"Step aside.", Jim ordered and pulled out his sunglasses from his loin cloth. The staff did as they were told and Jim, after putting his glasses on, cracked with his neck. "Dale and Niero will pull some aggro away, the rest of you will buff me on my command.", he said calmly and the others nodded silently. Jim laid his hand on the door handle. "The bitch is back."
With one quick pull he suddenly opened the door and just for one second the mob seemed to freeze in position. Everything seemed to be frozen. The almost naked Jim Sterling standing on top of the stairs, just a few centimeters away from the savage mob. ... and the Sterling opened his mouth.
"MOVE AWAY YOU BLOODY TWATS! YOU ARE INSECURE ABOUT YOUR SEXUALITY AND THIS IS WHY YOU HARASS WOMEN ONLINE!"
With every word he yelled a little blue shockwave went out under him over the floor, pushing the black creatures back, while some of them were simply dissolved by the shockwave. Without any difficulty Jim pushed the whole mob back down the stairs, now pulling the aggro completely. The hissing screams of the mob changed.
"Your reviii~ews are shiii~t."
"Abandooo~n the scooo~reee~s!"
Jim, on the other hand went on without flinching.
"STOP SUCKING EA'S CORPORATE DICK AND ACCEPT THAT THEY ARE FAILING ON CUSTOMER SUPPORT! ALL OF YOU FUCKING TROLLS ARE AT FAULT THAT ARNITA SARKEESIAN GOT ANY ATTENTION!"
As he reached the floor again, Dale and Niero followed, a few pins in their hand that looked like little golden crowns. Each one of them had a unique number printed on the back.
"Free HUGE memberships!", they yelled and threw the pins all over the place, "Free HUGE memberships for everyone!"
Attracted by the pins, part of the mob left Jim alone, who fought is way back into the middle of the floor.
"Buff me!", Jim yelled over his shoulder, before turning his attention towards the mob again.
"Uhm... you are doing great?", Jonathan said a bit unassertive, "You are really in great shape for someone we kept locked up... ?"
While Dale and Niero were throwing out more pins to distract part of the mob, the rest of the staff started to compliment Jim. With every compliment the shockwave grew bigger and more and more readers were dissolved. But the stream didn't seem to end and after a good minute of yelling, both parties seemed to come to a halt.
Jim standing in the middle of the room, panting for air, with the rest of the staff close behind him and buffing him through compliments. But the mob also seemed to realize they had no chance.
"It's no use.", Andy mumbled, "Jim does enough AOE, but he is not a DD. He just can't deal enough damage."
Before anyone could respond one of the windows shattered and a hooded figure jumped into the room. It went over the heads of the Destructoid staff and landed at the foot the stairs, effectively cutting the off from their escape way.
From within the cowl two black, scrabbled looking hands reached out. No... they weren't scrabbled, at least not like the bodies of the readers. They were hairy. Not even that. They appeared to be made out of hair! The two hands grabbed the cowl and pulled it back.
"Sorry I'm late. Had to avoid the wife on my way out or she might have wanted to talk to me.", Conrad excused himself and stretched both his arms, and the hair made arms that grew out of his mustache. He laid one hand on Sterling's naked, sweaty shoulder. "Ready to finish this?", he smirked, his moustarms doing a motions as if they were cracking their fingers.
"Let's go." Jim took a deep breath. "YOU ACT LIKE THE COMPANIES YOU HATE SO MUCH TOWARDS THE BIOSHOCK INFINITE DEV BECAUSE YOU BOUGHT FUCKING SEASON PASSES, YOU IDIOTS!"
Simultaneously Conrad's moustachearms stretched out and just want on a rampage. Fast like thunder they moved through the room, grabbing single enemies out of the mob and punching them so hard they simply disintegrated into nothing. Although the effectiveness of their attacks wore thinner with every time, Dale and Niero still threw pins into the crowd and the rest complimented their colleagues, giving them endurance buffs through that.
And then... it was over. The mob was gone completely and what was left, was a devastated office.
"Bloody hell.", Jim huffed, wiping the sweat away with the back of his hand.
Conrad's moustarms pulled back until there was only his regular mustache left and they started to look around to assess the damage done.
"At least none of them got any of the boxes.", Hamza tried to point out the positive.
"I hope you don't mind if I do.", an unknown voice sounded behind them and they turned on their heels.
At the end of the stairs there was a young man with blonde hair which he tied to a ponytail. His shirt had some illegible scribbling on it and below it was a bird made of fire. Under his arm he was holding one of the BlizzCon boxes.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"Me? I'm the creator of this place. Basically I am god.", he answered as if it was obvious, "I'm taking one of these, alright?"
"And why should we give it to you?", Dale asked, his eyes closing to slits.
"Well, as I said: I'm the creator of all this.", the young man answered, "But if you really want me to name the reason, I can name two. First of all." He clicked with his fingers and the Pokemon battle theme stopped instantly. A relieved sigh went through the room. Only Jonathan made a sad, whimpering sound. "Second: I can make those mean ugly fucks come back. Just like I stopped the music."
"Why the heck did you do that if you could have simply taken one of the prizes?", Andy asked confused.
"Hmmm. Good point. I'm not much of a thinker. I'll take that into consideration the next time. So I'll bid you farewell for today."
And just like that he was gone. Without a sound or trace left behind he simply disappeared from one second to the other right in front of their eyes. Dale sighed.
"What a day. And now we also have to chain Sterling back-"
He stopped as he heard a crashing noise behind him. Dale turned around, seeing only a big hole in the wall and Jim running away, Jonathan Holmes tucked away under his arm.
"Oh christfuck...", he mumbled and lowered his head, while the rest of them watched Jim run towards the sunset.