First room, first thoughts. I have so many keypad options, and nothing to do with them. I feel like Link without his sword. Except less gay. I talk to the wizard looking fellow. What do you know? He talks exactly like Flappers does when he imitates people. I begin to think that maybe I'm too close to this game to fairly judge it. So apparently an ancient evil, long asleep, has risen in the North. My money's on dragon. Or retarded golden chicken that I can throw a saddle on and win the game. Both sound equally make-fun-of-able. I begin to wonder if I'm being too harsh, then realize that I'm just bitter that I have no talents to speak of that produce concrete results for posterity, save for hand-held camcorder videos of me dancing around and singing onstage. Continuing the theme of gay.
And just because I want to feel like I'm writing a lot, let's side track for a moment on the topic of posterity. I once spoke to J_Verts about how I have a wishful feeling that all good times in the past are somehow still going on, constantly replaying themselves in some capacity somehow in this reality. For the most part I feel this way about the Triangle. I once had a vision that I would procure a protege (the Swankinator?) as if the Triangle had started some undying chain of good times. I now understand that this self-absorbed fantasy is just that, and that everything we leave behind is left behind. I entertain the thought that someday, for some reason, someone our age (protege-esque) will retrace our steps and make of us what they can. I imagine they would find our blogs, likely their main source of information, as well as possibly our school records and yearbooks, but what else? Would they find Penultimate Fantasy? And better yet, could Penutimate Fantasy (the creation by two thirds, the playing and live blogging by one third) prove to be one of those nuggets of good times that somehow constantly replays itself over and over? Press any key to find out, I suppose.
Disco Bandits. I ejaculate. It is messy. I am in my family room. I struggle to hide it, shifting a pillow over my not so ugly uglies. Distracted by my new plight, I temporarily forget about its cause, turn back to my laptop screen
Perhaps it's time to enter the world of parodying the parody of the parody, as I see PF ejaculation as more a shoot-off (hehe) of Suspenders than the original. Speaking of meta.
Images flash through my mind of wholly uninteresting stick figures from the Kingdom of Loathing (kingdomofloathing.com) and of extremely unattractive yet dashing Star Trek uniforms. I imagine our protege-stalker will someday uncover those photographs and be frightened and confused, perhaps abandoning their investigation. The protege is male, by the way. Girls are icky. If you can't already tell, I'm attempting to blog a lot about this short ass-game by sidetracking as much as possible. I fear Flap and Poke are glowering at me for not respecting their material. And so I move past the third text box.
Shit, what key is back? I was so overwhelmed by a DB name-drop that I forgot what was said about them. Doubtless I am doomed to now never figure this game out.
Disco Bandit relic must mean Star Trek get-up. Im in.
I have already fallen into a game of trying to figure out from whom specific ideas in this game originated. In most cases I assume one programmer conceived the idea and the other readily approved, but I can't help but wonder where these seeds of concept sprung up. I know Disco Bandits must have been Flapjack, readily approved in the defense of Pokey. But "vinyl pentagram"? Aside from being insulted by the fact that anything remotely satanic would ever be associated with the Disco Bandits, I cannot place this one's conception. When I think absurdity, both programmers come to mind. Their styles, however, are different. Pokey's absurd contradictions tend to be humorous in and of themselves, a self-sustaining giggle, whereas Flapjack's absurd contradictions usually make extremely little sense upon first introduction, to be later revealed as a reference or a running gag. If there is no development of this idea, I am stumped. No doubt I'm also being thrown off by the fact that I've never heard either of them use the word "vinyl". I stifle my curiosity, as I should probably get through the game's initial text.
(Pause)Bunnies=Pokey. He talks that way. Whereas "there may yet be hope" is Flap. Boy am I going to look like a fool if it turns out one of you did all of the dialogue.
Free of that wonderful conversation, I prepare to investigate this initial chamber. I am left to wonder how it is I got here. This is in no way a logical place for any normal person to be, as it looks like a dungeon and even for a dungeon is sparse on the decor. And who is my character? A shady individual for sure, what with the indoor sunglasses and whatnot. The long coat makes me feel like I should be hiding in city allies, popping out to assault helpless passerby with my business of selling used wristwatches out of the inside of my jacket. Come to think of it, the supreme sketchiness of my appearance makes the fact that I'm in such a sketchy place less unbelievable. Maybe wizards need watches too.
I awkwardly push my body against the table and all the barrels in the room. Thanks for not giving those any purpose, guys. Now the wiz just saw me run-humping every item in sight. I'm gonna leave this room.
You guys are so thinking "this is going to take FOREVER." Yeah, it is.