Here is another update about the excellent game Psychonauts which shall be released for your enjoyment holiday 2004: My foot is feeling just a smidge better.
Also: somewhere along the line (September 9, 2003) the Double Fine Action News flipped over into some weird font (Times New Roman
) and NOBODY TOLD ME. Here I am, trying to look like a professional on the International Network of the Computers, putting my hand-made sentences and stuff out there for all to read, in a font with a %#$@&! SERIF on it!!! It’s like I put little shoes on every letter.
(Orthopedic shoes, no less, just to ensure that each and every letter would get teased and picked on at school. Worse than that! It was like those poor little letters had to run out of the house in the morning to try and catch the school bus to go get their day’s worth of teasing, but they’d trip over their clumsy, orthopedic serifs and collapse into a tearful heap on the lawn while the bus driver honked and the sans serif kids on the bus laughed cruelly—and right at that moment when they looked up to me for fatherly support and protection, I spit on them and said, “You know, I’m not even your real father. Your real father had a pony tail and drove a pick-up with a heart-beat painted on the side and wore this big Tasmanian Devil T-shirt all the time, and even HE didn’t love you.”)
That’s what it was like. I would say that everybody was laughing at me, except nobody said nothing, which can only mean one thing: nobody is reading the Double Fine Action News.
Thank god. That means I can do anything I want. Anything at all! I am completely unaccountable! Nobody is listening. I’m going to take off my clothes and type the rest of this naked! It doesn’t matter! No one will know!! From here on out, I am unrestrained by the rules of your world. The only boundary I know? My imagination.
Well, I’m out of ideas.
Here’s a dancing liver:
Three of our s p o o k i e s t programmers wanted to wish you Happy Halloween.
Oooh, look at them! Aren’t they scary?
There’s Kee, who is always blurry. No one can figure out why. So freaky.
And hiding behind the pumpkin is Caroline. That’s pretty freaky, don’t you think? I mean what kind of crazy lady goes around on Halloween, hiding behind pumpkins? A scary crazy lady, that’s who.
And then behind Kee, there’s Amy, who likes to drink human blood at her desk. I hear.
It’s just a rumor, but it explains a lot, trust me.
And then there’s Erik in the background, who looks like he’s faith-healing Amy’s cheekbone. The scary thing about that is what he pulled out right after I snapped this picture…
You see, apparently, Amy had an ant lodged in her sinus cavity. Not scary, you say? Well it was a QUEEN ant, which means it probably laid eggs in there. So soon Amy’s cheeks are going to be full of ANTS. Still not scared? Well what if you were in a relay race with Amy, but it was the kind where you have to pass an orange that you’re holding under your chin, and right when you’re neck-to-neck with Amy, her ANT CHEEKS EXPLODE and you’re covered with bloody ants and cheek chunks? And what if Amy screamed “My cheeks! My cheeks!” so loud that your heavy-prescription eyeglasses shattered, and the car you were driving swerved off the road and landed upside-down in a breeding pond at a leech farm? And what if Amy’s blood drove the leeches into a mad feeding frenzy, and they got so excited that they crawled into her open cheeks and took over her body and made her walk the countryside, putting leech eggs into the macaroni salad at Fresh Choice restaurants all over the nation? And then what if you went to a Fresh Choice, and unknowingly ate leech/macaroni salad, and one of those leech eggs hatched inside your belly, and ate it’s way out, and then that leech grew up to invent a doomsday weapon that would eventually destroy the earth? And then what if you slowly walked around the charred, smoking ruins of destroyed Earth… and you found… hanging on the door handle… A gleaming, metal HOOK!!!
Oooh, man. Scared myself there with that last part. Anyway, thanks to famed Brazilian artist Kjeld Pedersen for the Double Fine pumpkin. Look how carefully he carved the babies’ hairs! Take it from me, you have to have a steady hand to carve baby hair well.
Some changes have been made to the jobs page. Some new notices have been added, and some old ones have been laid to rest. Some handy links appeared. Some margins got moved on accident, but then they were moved back.
Some day, we’ll hire this guy.
Here’s an update on the game: My foot hurts.
Well, even though we all knew it had to happen someday, it’s hard to face the truth now that it’s actually here. But the time has come to admit one, simple, painful fact: Running Double Fine Productions and Norway at the same time has become too big a task for one person. Even when that person is me. The job simply must be split in two. I will be remaining here to handle the video game side of things, while the ruling of Norway will be delegated to one of our top associates.
Camilla Fossen has been chosen to represent our company’s (and our nation’s) interests in Scandinavia, due to her fine collection of cozy sweaters. Congratulations, Camilla on your promotion from
Queen of Norway.
We will all miss you here very much, Camilla. You joined Double Fine when we were just starting out, and helped us look a lot more together than we actually were. So much so, that we actually believed it ourselves sometimes.
Let’s hope you can do the same for Norway.
I lost your envelope.
Here’s a hint: Your name is Mark Gleim.
The Double Fine Action News has not been updated in about a month, and I will be honest—there have been complaints. But I would like to say I reject these complaints. Pfaah! Reject! Back to your unloving mothers, you complaints! And here is why I reject you: I just thought of a very flattering, very pro-double fine explanation of the lack of fresh posts here. Why did some readers not see it? Well that’s because they are actually betrayers. But I shouldn’t really get into that because those betrayers might still have 50 bucks come holiday 2004, and therefore I love them very, very much.
But still I will describe for you the nature of their betrayal. They should have not assumed that we weren’t posting because we were fat and lazy. They should have assumed the totally-possible case where I, the author, in fact DIED after eating that blue bread. Ah, you see? Author eats blue bread, dies, and then no further posts. Hilarious! Well, done, author.
Unfortunately, that was not what happened. Our entire authoring staff here—our fat and lazy authoring staff—have just been too busy working on the increasingly-excellent game Psychonauts (which you can read about in the new Electronic Gaming Monthly—go buy three copies NOW!!!) Too busy to care about the public, the fans… to busy to care about anything except for their own sick desire to not update web pages. Well, at least we got that one thing done: no updating, done! Check! Desire satisfied.
Ultimately, what I’m saying is, regardless of the fatitude and lazification of our writing staff, the faithful reader should have known better. Or actually, they should have known nothing, but assumed better, incorrectly. When no posts were made, said reader should have assumed not that fatness or laziness were involved, but instead some sort of high comedy was going on.
And the best, in this case, was the possibility that we were implying with our hilarious non-posts, that the author had died. Pretty funny stuff. We weren’t doing it, but you didn’t know that. Next time, maybe?
P.S. Did I mention that there are new screenshots in EGM! Go buy! You go buy now!
Hang on. Not to worry. I found some leftover basmati rice from last night’s Indian food in the fridge. At least I hope it was last night… Anyway, there’s that, and some (unrelated) blue bread. I’m not sure who’s bread this is, but I’m going to eat it. It’s blue, but I think it’s supposed to be blue. You can eat stuff if it’s supposed to be blue. In general.
And if this was your blue bread and you were saving it to make a blue pb&j tomorrow or blue French toast, then, well, I’m sorry. I ate it. It’s gone. You have to let it go, and not get too mad, and here’s why: The reason I’m working late tonight is that I’m writing performance reviews. I might be writing yours. So just keep your mouth shut, and you’ll get a “4” in at least one category: “Employee provides me with food and doesn’t make a big, whiny deal about it.”
“Goals for next three months: More bread. Next six months: Butter.”
Oh, man. I’m working late, and there is NOTHING to eat here.
Okay, the action news is fixed, in that it is back to yellow, or at least the proper ratio of yellow to orange, which is essential to annoying people. I’ve found that more people are annoyed by the color scheme of our web site than by the color of pretty much any other site in the entire world of cyber. One of the guests—a GUEST, mind you—at that big party that we invited you all to attend… this guest says to me, “d00d, your page, man… it’s hella orange.”
“You don’t like it?” I asked sheepishly, my lower lip quivering.
“It’s… it’s a lot of orange.” He said, shaking his head sadly.
At which point I fainted. I’m not very good at the whole “taking criticism” thing. But as I’ve said, that guy is WRONG, because this page is mostly yellow, or “burnt mustard” if you must. So he was dumb and wrong, but still.
I just wish I had a good come-back to throw at him right then, but instead I just sat there crying until he got really uncomfortable and walked away. I wish I had thought of something clever, like, “Nuh-uh. You wanna know what’s orange? YOU’RE orange!!! HAHAHA! How d’ya like them apples, Mr. Orange? Hey everybody look! This guy’s orange! HAHAHA! Everybody! Look! Ha ha! Everybody! Hey! Hey you guys! Look! No seriously! No really! Look! Hey, why won’t you come over here and look at this guy? Hey, why are you flipping me off? That’s not nice. This is my party! Hey, shut up! You guys seriously. I was too invited! I sent out the invitations. This is my party. Now just come over here and look at this orange guy. No, I won’t leave! Stop it! What are you talking about? I’m not even drunk. Quit it! Don’t touch me! This is my party! OW! That hurts! Where are we going? Hey, you can’t put me out here! I left my windbreaker in there. Hey guys? Can I at least have my windbreaker? It’s cold out here. No, don’t shove it through the mail slot. My glasses are in there. No, I said DON’T shove it through the mail slot. You’re going to break my—oh, man you did! You did break my glasses! You guys are jerks! Shut up! I’m not crying. I have asthma! I only talk this way because night air makes my asthma worse. Now let me back in! I’m serious. I’m serious…”
Yeah. That would have been sweet. Why do we always think of these things after the fact eh?
Okay, I’m going to post that damn birthday art, I swear. But I’ve got to acquire some permission from some people. Hopefully I can do it with just the right level of legal trickery to leave an opening for me to come back later and sue some people to fund the rest of the project. Or at least, fund some more suing! And eventually, some bling bling for my teeth.