Tuesday, June 9, 2009
All the world's a boss fight
First there was a yellow circle. Then it opened up just a little and moved. Right, left, up down, at the press of a button it went 'wakka...wakka...wakkka' Death to little dots. The ghosts were oddly colorful considering their very touch meant death, at least to our intrepid, hungry hero. Then there was a blur. Cars, plumbers, castle rooms that were little more than squares of '-' and 'I'. There was also a woman in a red hat and a red coat, looking back with an oddly seductive smile and a gleam in here eye. But the prince was no blur. Never did rescue the princess, I was never very good with time management anyway, but the prince was good. Fat soldiers, thin soldiers, hell his own shadow was no match. His trusty sword and random Erlenmeyer Flasks filled with potions. Tried again the next time he came around. Things were prettier, more colorful, but again, those damn floating heads got in the way.
Fast forward a few years, and the world got darker. Persia was a memory, Trishtram was the present. Clickity, clickity click went the mouse, until it joined the broken pile and the devil was trapped in the stone, and the stone was trapped in the hero. On the second trip, there was no sword or shield, but the chainsaw was a fine replacement. So was the double barreled shotgun. Oh and when things got too hairy, there was a big fucking.... well, you know.
Of course monsters were par for the course, as were monster trucks. For a while they were fun. Sheer madness. But suddenly there was a boy Joseph. See, he had this mark on his arm, and he could call....things. Monsters, dragons, elementals. And there were three others. They didn't go to hell, but they did go everywhere else. From sun kissed monasteries where the beautiful tiled floors almost gleamed in spite of the green creepers between them, to long lost cities that a god's grief had turned to stone. Towering spires scraped the sky, their tips hidden behind the cotton ball clouds. For the first time I saw cities, and people and marketplaces. They almost vibrated with life, a world where not everything was about me. A real world. For days I traveled, and finally, the false god was dead. The new god had risen. My work was done.
But the devil does not lie still. His world had not been vigilant, the hero had not been strong enough, and I was needed. But who was I? The strong, the holy, the lithe, the fiery or the cursed? Long white hairs flew in the wind as I raised hell, to fight hell. This time hell was right here, on earth. No living breathing world this, for there were so few left to breathe. Minuscule patches of safe haven, a handful of survivors, selling the tools of survival, and then, hours of battle. The stronger I grew, the tougher they became. But I would not be stopped. The brothers fell, first the Lord of Hatred, then the devil himself. Spears of bone ripped his red hide, and with one last anguished scream, he fell. There was one more, the angel said, but he would come later. In the icy wastes of the barbarian lands, deep in the World stone keep, evil would rise its destructive head. But I was the fury of nature, beasts at my beck and call, plants at my command. Destruction was no more, but the worldstone was shattered. It had to be done, said the angel. But what did the future hold? Only time will tell.
For a while, the past was forgotten. Gods wanted to be entertained, and humans were the pawns. Only humans? No. There were others. Hulking mechanized brutes of steel and rage, bizarre creatures from other worlds. Death was not an option, just a moment to catch a breath. Kill or be killed, an endless cycle of birth and rebirth, punctuated by the anguished cries of my fallen victims. In many arenas I fought, and rose to the one in the sky. There waited the wise one, the one who craved liberation. With a streak of light as fast as thought and as red as rage, I fulfilled his wish. The god's were sated.
I would fight again, but not for gods or trophies. It was a fight for survival, and I would not have a lifetime to do it. Just half of one. But that's another story. for another day......