Pokemon GO – Oh, to be a Pidgey

I’ve been sat out here for ages…waiting for a trainer to walk past close enough to pick me up on their phone and try to catch me.

And when they do…oh, my word, they are in for a shock. I’m not the strongest Pokemon, sure. 32cp isn’t all that, or so I’m told. I’m not the fastest either…I’m actually more of an irritation than a threat. I’m seen as fodder for level-climbers to catch and evolve…but not this time.

Here we go…here they come…two people with their phones out. Ta-da! I’m here! I’ve definitely popped up on their screens now. Is one of them going to take the bait?

Yes! Haha, yes! He’s fallen for it. Flick…the first ball flies miles over my head and off into the distance. Second one hits me just as my attack animation begins. Whoops. Next.

Ball three hits me square in the head…zoooooop…into the ball for a minute…and out I pop.

Another flick, attack animation again. Bat the next one away. This is so easy.

Ow! That one hit me right in the sweet spot…zoooooop…back into the ball again…wiggle wiggle, wiggle, pause…pop! Out I leap once more.

The guy hurls his phone across the car park, and I’m left in limbo forever trapped in the gap between the world and his screen.

Guess that serves me right really.

(Note from the author: I'm hooked, I'm addicted. This game is so simple, and so nuanced in its ability to keep you playing...and visiting stop after stop. By it, play it, love it. Well done, Niantech...but could you sort out the bug that makes super-low-cp Pokemon from leaping out of high-level trainers' balls?)

INSIDE – Torchlight and dart guns

Lungs on fire, legs pumping. They’re on your heels. Run, run, run.

The men in the masks are here with torches and dart guns. They want to take you back to the grey buildings. Keep running, just keep running and don’t you stop. Don’t look back, don’t make a sound, just run.

Lights! A van! Take shelter when you can, behind one of the pods with the portholes. Hold your breath...they’re close...so close...their breathing...is all you can hear so, don’t...move...a...muscle...

They’re passing, you have to move. Now! Go! Feet pound on soil...sounds of chains being slipped behind you...DOGS! Run, move, sprint, to the water. Maybe you’ll find respite there. .

Cold fear, heightened by cold water rising, lights burn into the murky depths around you.

They know you’re there...but they can’t see you. All you need to do is wait.

Soon, you’ll be here, soon. We will escape together. All you need to do is keep moving. Every step you take brings you closer to me, where I am.

Inside this prison. Inside this tomb. Inside these minds.

ALIEN: ISOLATION: Patient presenting normally

 

[Sevastopol Station Medical Log – Dr Lindgard - November 14, 2137 – Dictation mode]

Patient name is Catherine Foster, currently recovering from being attacked by a parasitic organism of some sort. I’ve not been allowed to see it again - not that I want to, horrible thing - so I’ve no idea what I’m dealing with.

Anyway, the patient seems stable, sleeping normally. I’m noticing odd muscle movement around her eyes, like painful dreams, but nothing remarkable.

However, our CT scanners are showing a large stain over her chest. We’re not sure what it is, and we’re ruling out surgical investigation. Could be cancer, could be something the parasite secreted, could just be some internal trauma or a calibration issue. Either way, without more knowledge of the creature I’m hesitant to operate while the patient is functioning perfectly well. Why upset the balance?

I don’t know what...the patient it gritting her teeth so tightly I can hear her grinding them together...Catherine, are you...patient is awake...

Shit...crash cart, crash cart!!!

Convulsions!!

Get the fucking crash cart in here now! NOW!!!

Hold her down...hold her!!!

THE ELDER SCROLLS V: SKYRIM: Eating gourmet to the end

We Orcs are a violent race, and with good cause. We’re looked down on, we have to fight hand and nail, with blood and sweat, to get anything in this life.

That’s why we build our strongholds in the mountains, try and take those away from us you snow-bound murderers. Sigh. I can’t even be angry in a convincing manner. But I can cook.

No one really knows who I am, just my author name: The Gourmet. I’m a chef of the highest order. Not really something you’d expect from an Orc, am I right?

While my brothers found joy in their blood rights and wolf taming, I baked. I baked and I cooked and I created culinary delights. I was mocked, but my food was always readily accepted.

Leaving was a tough choice, but how else was I to follow my passion? Under darkness I fled the mountain tops, and I found my way to Whiterun. I stayed there for a while and wrote a cookery book that was published. This was my big break. My cooking is now renowned across Tamriel.

But nothing can beat this...I’m here in Skyrim to cook for Emperor Titus Mede II. He’s cancelled his plans though, something about security issues, and I’m staying in this inn awaiting the call. Me, Balagog gro-Nolob, an Orc, cooking for the Emperor. What a thing. I’m proud beyond belief.

I’m just going to stay here, in this basement, keeping myself hidden. Stupid though it sounds, I’m nervous of even going outside in case something happens to me. Haha, but what’s going to happen to me down here?

I think I’ll sneak a glass of wine from the barrels to calm my nerves...

WATCH DOGS: To catch a mouse...

Balancing the lives of a celebrity DJ and a criminal hacker is tough work – I’m not going to lie and say it isn’t. But hell if it isn’t fun. So. Much. Fun.

The noise, the crowd, the music, the chatter, the signals. I’m everywhere. I’m everything. Light-speed particles can’t touch Defalt! 

CtOS makes it all even easier. I can hook into anything, anyone, any time I want. Check this out...that dude dancing to the left of the bar, with the haircut. Zing...boom...done, just emptied his bank account into my own and made a charitable donation with it. I’m such a nice guy. If you could see underneath the mask, there'd be a tear in my little mousy eye. Sniff sniff.

And now I’m getting even more creative. A huge semi-dormant network bunker just went online – the work of the vigilante everyone is talking about, no doubt – and I sneaked in there quiet as a mouse and stole all the data he opened up. LOL.

He’s making me curious, though. What’s his plan? Is he trying to clear his name? If so, what’s he done? Or is he just trying to hold the city to ransom like some dire criminal genius? Who knows, who the fuck cares?

Now he thinks he’s stalking me. I know he’s watching me right now. He thinks I don’t know he can access all the cameras. I’m just that good. I spiked his signal straight away. OMG, stop it, I'm shy!

I am loving being this frustrating to that do-gooding douchebag. But how best to taunt him? Fuck it, the finger. Eat that, asshole.

Can’t catch this mouse. Take off the mask and I look just like you. Melt away.

You’ll never catch this mouse alive.