BIOSHOCK: My world. Mine!

"You came here to destroy what you could never build. A Hun, gawping at the gates of Rome." Words I spoke in anger, never more true than they are now.

My Rome. My world. This is not some place I inhabit. This is my world. I built this city. It is my philosophies and politics that have shaped Rapture. It is my will that it should be.

A long time ago, I asked myself: in what country was there a place for men like me – men who refused to say "yes" to the parasites and the doubters, men who believed that work was sacred and property rights inviolate. And then one day, the happy answer came to me, my friends: there was no country for people like me! And that was the moment I decided... to build one.

My critics call me a grotesque amalgamation of libertarianism and the free market, of greed and narcissism. But in my world, they are either with me or against me. Simple.

Rapture was set on its course by me, and its fate will be decided by me. Even if that trajectory is doom and destruction.

An interloper has no place in my world. Especially not one who has moved so effortlessly through my city. Even now I watch him skulking through my hallways working with Atlas.

"Would you kindly". A powerful phrase. And so my world is undone with politeness. So be it, let this be the brightest fire in the coldest ocean.

GUEST POST: DUKE NUKEM 3D: Another day, another dollar

I’ve been working at the strip club for three years now, and nearly every night Duke had visited me for one reason or another. He always said I was his favourite girl.

I liked working at the club. Besides the lecherous old men it was fun to hang out with the girls, and the dancing keeps me fit.

And sure, I like Duke and enjoy the attention from him, who wouldn’t? But I do feel sorry for him, always out fighting and getting himself into trouble.

Duke hadn’t been in today and, strangely, I kind of missed him. Coupled with the fear that anytime now a group of assault troopers could burst through the door, I was feeling really on edge.

It was getting late and I could hear this loud noise outside. That’s when, all of a sudden, the doors burst open, and in a cloud of smoke with two dead pig cops by his feet Duke walked in. I was glad to see him.

He walked straight up to me with his fists full of dollars, took his seat and said to me: "Shake it baby."

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Massive thanks to Amy, creator/writer of the "Daisiesanddolls" blog, for this excellent addition to "Stories from the universes", and for being my first ever guest post writer! You can read Amy's own blog here: daisiesanddolls.blogspot.co.uk. There's even a blog from me on Amy's site too...the wonder of guest posting.

HALF-LIFE 2: EPISODE ONE: Be still my beating heart

I hate these Razor Trains. You see them gliding about the world all the time, and my stomach turns when I think about what’s inside them.

Now I’m standing face-to-face with the contents. Stalkers. Gordon and I have just contained the Citadel’s core and are using this train to get the hell away from it. But it’s full of Stalker pods. Those poor creatures, former humans. The thought is too much.

And then we crashed. De-railed, we tumbled over and over in the darkness. I came to rest underneath an upturned Stalker pod with its occupant snapping and screeching inches from my face. Fear washes over me, panic drips from me, my heart beats a heavy pounding in my chest.

But he’s with me. At my side. He pulls me from the creature. Saves me from the terror. He holds me as I cry into his chest, but I realise that my heart hasn’t stopped pounding. It’s beating faster, but so much less painfully.

It’s warm. It’s love. He doesn’t even need to say a word, just hold me. His eyes, those burning green eyes, staring deeply into mine. If we weren’t underground and heading through the hell-choked tunnels I’d have kissed him.

The moment love blossoms. Mutual care. He doesn’t need to speak. I know he will never do anything but be there. Next to me.

Gordon and Alyx, together to the bitter end. Be still my beating heart, except when he holds me again. I hope it happens soon.

HALO 2: Not even me

It all happened so quickly, I’m not even sure how they missed it coming towards me. Those vile Brutes, always be mindful of those so quick to betray another species.

I was assured the Elites would merely be cast out, not murdered in their droves. But for power, I lusted for power. For the final end of all others, of the Ark’s salvations from the Flood and the destruction we wrought.

I yearned for Halo’s cleansing flames to absolve me of my sins. But there is no salvation here. A regretful being am I. Mercy was my name, I gave none even though I craved it the most. Ironies of a wasted life.

All of the most careful planning and faith in the Path has led me to this point, clutching my neck as a Parasite digs its tendrils deeper. I will not yield to it. I will not give it the satisfaction.

Truth, Regret and I. We plotted and preyed, twisted and betrayed, and for what?

Regret is dead. Truth has betrayed me, the Elites. It’s all gone, dust to the winds. Tartarus was called from my side as he reached to save me. I am alone on this landing pad, suffering the failures of my grand designs.

The Great Journey waits for no one, not even me.

The Demon strides to my side, staring in the direction of the departing ships.

“Your pal, where’s he going?” His faceless visor stares down at me.

My last gasps of clean air, choked only by the Parasite’s tendrils allow me a parting shot: “Earth...to finish what started. And this time...none of you will be left behind.”

He pulls the Parasite from my neck, but the damage is already done. A scream is all I can manage before the end.

Truth’s last words ring in my head: “The Great Journey waits for no one, brother. Not even you.”

Not even me, and for once Truth wasn’t lying. 

ARKHAM KNIGHT: Super weapons and creative accounting

Seriously, the amount of money it’s taking to put together this operation is almost the same as the national budget of a small country.

I don’t really know how the hell I’m supposed to be budgeting this endeavour. Why do they even need an accountant? There’s no budget to keep to. Every time I get to the bottom of one pool of money they point me at another.

I have no idea where these people are finding all this money. They built up an army of drone tanks, militia forces, aerial drones, watch towers, barricades…essentially everything you’d need to seize and hold an entire city.

Then there’s this Special Projects Division I keep seeing on my budget sheets. They’re pouring millions of dollars into it, something called Cloud Burst and Project Armour Knight appear as line items on at least four balance papers.

I work and work for weeks before curiousity gets the better of me. I start pulling a few late-night shifts and hack into the system to find out more about the group’s plans. Reams of data unfold before my eyes, terrifying things, horrendous plans, weaponised chemical dispersal, and an armoured suit that looks…like…Batman’s suit?

What the hell is going on with this bunch? I can’t be their accountant with all of this stuff going on. I need to tell the authorities, I need to get out of here.

I start printing off the sheets so I can take them to the police and become so engrossed that I don’t even hear the door open behind me. A gun goes off, I hit the floor, my office is burned to the ground.

I was so close…

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I'm taking some cues from a fellow blogger and loosening the update deadlines on my blog. Due to being a father, I've been a bit lax over the last couple of weeks with my insistence on Wednesday and Saturday updates. From now on, I'm going to be using the "mid-week blog" and "weekend blog" titles to keep things updating regularly, but give myself a tiny bit of leeway. Hope this is okay with all youz. Thanks for reading. T.

FALLOUT 3 / NEW VEGAS / 4(?): Musings from a mysterious stranger

I’ve walked the scorched wastelands for what feels like an eternity, although it’s only been 200 years.

Settlements have risen and fallen, vaults have sprung open and survivors have walked in and out of my life. I’ve helped build towns, I’ve saved lives, I’ve watched people try to save others, I’ve intervened, I’ve stayed on the side, always wondering why I was given this gift/curse (I can never decide which it is).

Mutations are commonplace in the wastelands. Super Mutants, Ghouls, Rad Roaches, all results of radiation’s effect on living cells. Me, I was blessed with rapid cell regeneration, rendering me effectively immortal.

At first, I used this gift for the task of rebuilding the world, but I received no thanks worthy of my time. I’m an immortal, a God among the normality of human life cycle.

So what do I do now? I follow people. Having stumbled on an ancient cache of stealth boys I decided to follow those I deemed worthy of my time and act as an agent of chance, appearing at random to tip the balances in their favour.

It is my choice whether to act or not. It is my choice to let them live or die. I am truly their superior being and...well, well, well, what have we here?

A traveller has just walked straight out of the Lucky 38, past the Securitrons. Is he an agent of House? An interloper? The next big player? 

Either way, I've found my next project. Will I save you, or let you prove yourself...it's too early to decide. 

HALO 2: Threatening stars

Clouds of dirt and brick fragments fill the air, ricocheting off of armour plates and shattering visors. Pvt. Dodgshon is running full speed towards what he hopes will be good cover from the advancing horde.

He slams into the brick work of the wall, rolling back slightly as he realises he’s landed on a fallen trooper’s dead body. He pulls himself onto his knees and edges close to the wall, trying to pull his head into his body as he does so.

Plasma scoring marks the entire top of his piece of cover, and it’s as if a hail of blue fire is erupting from the sky above him. He lifts his rifle over his head and fires blindly into the horde on the other side of the wall. He hits nothing, but there’s a lull in the fire.

He looks back towards his own lines and sees several troopers screaming at each other and pointing at something beyond the wall. Dodgshon fires blindly over the wall again, and once more receives no return fire. He edges himself closer to the wall, and moves up to look over the top.

Wraiths, their iridescent armour reflecting the sun’s light, are advancing as the Covenant forces pull back. There’s hundreds of them, gliding forward towards the troopers desperately trying to hold Reach. Their barrels raise into the air and they fire their parabolic plasma projectiles as one. Dodgshon stares into the sky as the plasma slowly arcs towards his comrades, blue fire shining in a fully-lit sky. Their impact on the ground is deafening and awesomely destructive.

Dodgshon barely makes it to the ground to shield his face from the blasts. He hears the whirring chaos of approaching Wraiths and screams in pain as the wall he’s hiding behind begins to crumble on top of him. The last things he sees are tiny stars of daylight shining through the collapsed rubble above him. 

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This week's blog was inspired by Halo rather than based on anything particular. I missed this Saturday's update due to a bad soft-shell crab (seriously!). Normal service will resume on Wednesday morning. Thanks.