Look at the valuable game experience this young lad is absorbing through his ear. And that delicious-looking Sunkist he’s drinking? FREE. The cost to him? Nothing, except maybe a few chunks taken out of his ear. But only on the cartilage part that you don’t even really need anyway.
Hey, are you available during the day and willing to work for backrubs?
We need testers! We want to make sure we have a good, solid demo for E3, so we need people to play the excellent game Psychonauts all day. Just play the game and help us find bugs and tune puzzle difficulty and all that good stuff.
Small problem: we can’t actually HIRE any testers right now. But if you were looking to get some exposure to the game industry at its meatiest, juiciest, and most fragrant, then I recommend you come over to Double Fine and take us up on this offer: Test the excellent game Psychonauts and we will feed you, and sign you up for a free copy of the game when it comes out. And in a few months, we will be hiring actual, full-time, PAID testers, and you would be the first people we would consider for that job.
And yes, there are the backrubs to consider. From me. And also for the top performers, you will be eligible for: origami. I think I remember how to make a lovely crane. I could make you a crane and you would love it, in exchange for testing. You would love it at first, but then every time I came by your desk to ask if you found any bugs I would pick up the crane and make it peck your ear while I asked, “Didja? Didja? (peck! peck! peck!) didja find any bugs? (peck!) Didja? huh? (peck!)” and then you would hate it. Until about the third hour of this, and you would start to love it again, as one does when one is being tortured.
Anyway, if you don’t want to wait anymore to play the excellent game Psychonauts, and if you can get yourself to our offices here in San Francisco, like… about… NOW, then please send us some mail, and mention in there when you are available (hint: the best answer is something like “during the day”) and if you have any testing experience mention that for crying out loud. Send all that to the I WANT TO BE A DOUBLE FINE TESTER hotline immediately!
And let’s please get on with the process of becoming best friends.
Okay, I don’t know how it looks to you, but my little index of Double Fine Action Comics over on the left looks like crap to me. I wish I understood the internet and lasers and nanotech enough to know what’s going on, but I just can’t figure it out. In the crappy webpage editor that I got for free, it looks okay. But under the steely gaze of Internet Explorer, it’s droopy and uneven. The nine looks depressed. It’s hanging out about a half-space lower than the other numbers. And, at about number 26, the rows start spreading out. I have no idea why. It’s like one of them farted, and the other numbers want to get away. It was probably number 36. Haha! Get it? 36!
(Uh, 36 is the atomic number of Krypton? Which is a noble… GAS? Right? Now do you get it? ... Man, this is why I gave up on that whole stand- up routine I used to do that was based on the periodic table of elements. Nobody appreciates good science comedy.)
Anyway, It’s super-manky looking, and I know you guys are always dying for good, hard news about the Excellent Game Psychonauts, so I thought I’d let you know about that. Tell your friends: Double Fine has dropped its 9, and the 36 is having some wind.
The Excellent Game Psychonauts will look much better than that, I promise. Mostly because I will not be doing the art, and we will not be making the art in the crappy webpage editor that I got for free.
You know what that messed-up index reminds me of, really, is this class I had once where the teacher would talk and talk and talk, but I couldn’t focus on anything she said because I was fixated on her teeth. She didn’t have any two teeth that were pointing in the same direction. They all shot out at completely random angles. She was normal-looking in every way, but she had a smile like a cactus garden. Whenever she’d close her mouth, you’d worry that she was going to snag a lip on one of her mini-tusks. Kissing her would feel like trying to sort scrabble tiles with your tongue after they had been glued together. Seriously, it looked like someone loaded up a shotgun with white Chiclets and shot her right in the mouth. It looked… exactly like the Double Fine Action Comics index.
So I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I let down the comics with my ugly table and my inability to manipulate the properties of its cells.
I mean, what am I? Ian Wilmut?
...The father of cloning? Manipulating the properties of… you see, in HTML, a “cell” is also… oh forget it. I try to branch out my science comedy from chemistry to biology and people freak out. Okay never mind! Only regular science comedy from now on!
Two milestones today: DFAC #40(!), and the introduction of fart jokes to the news. Truly a golden day. God, please feel free to take a hundred golden days like this one, load them into your Chiclet shot gun, and shoot me right in the face.
Whoever is calling the back conference room, please stop calling the back conference room! Or at least stop leaving messages. The back conference room does not want your message.
Okay, the truth is we don’t know the password to the mail box that’s linked to the back conference room, or “The Cold Room,” as we call it. So when you call and leave message there, you make the voicemail light on the phone blink. It’s blinking right now, and no one here knows the password to shut it off. So that light will blink FOREVER. Seriously. Your voice will be suspended in an electronic coffin that no one will ever be able to dig up. Just thinking about it makes my eye twitch. God, I can see the light out of the corner of my eye RIGHT NOW.
And you might think this is only a problem when I sneak back to the cold room for a nap, because the light blinks in my face and makes it hard to sleep for longer than 90 minutes MAX. But its not just that. Even when I’m home, in my own bed, it keeps me up. I lay there away thinking of that damn conference room phone.
I imagine it sitting there, slowly flashing, all night long. Double Fine peacefully sleeping, all the lights off (except for Dave Dixon who always leaves his light on because I think he’s trying to prove some sciencey thing about tungsten) and the whole place is dark except down the back hallway. You see something. A shimmer. A glow, and then it’s gone. But there it is again! What is it? What is that red light? Where did it go? Except you’re not really there. No one is there to see it.
Diffused by the plastic ripples of the transparent, dotcom-era walls, the red light blinks on and then off, and then on. Refracted and silent, like a turn signal on a sunken car at the bottom of a moonlit lake. Blink. Blink. Blink. Who’s in the car? How can we get them out? Have they been down there long? We’ll never know. The password is lost. The messages are stacking up.
“Please pick up some milk on the way home, honey.”
“I’m calling about the job posting.”
“Is there anyone there? I’m down stairs. Please let me in.”
“There’s a problem with your rent check. Call me back immediately.”
“Where were you last night?”
“Your cab is here.”
“This is the clinic. We have your test results.”
Why would you call an empty room? Who do you hope will answer? You might as well tell your problems to a handful of dirt and then toss it in the wind. In fact, you’d be much better off doing that. As long as nobody sees you do it. Because you’d never be able to live THAT one down.
There is really only one reason I’m entering all this news, and it’s certainly not because I have something to say. It’s only to push that creepy picture of that baby with the satan mouth farther down the page.
And, of course, there are several exciting news items to discuss.
You know, small game companies like ours just do not generate as much news as you might think.
Ooh, wait. I know. Someone took a nap on the couch in the back conference room, and left about $1.50 in quarters on the cushion. I’m taking that money and putting into our fund to get that couch cleaned. When we actually clean the couch, I’ll post some exciting before and after shots.
Yes! Me too! I’m bored reading this too!
Whenever I want to get real happy, I know it’s time to look in the ol’ Double Fine mailbag!
Wooo! Mail bag! Double Fine mail bag! Woo!
Unfortunately, somebody ruined the mailbag by filling it with a molten rice crispy treat mixture on April Fool’s Day. I guess that’s just the kind of thing that makes some people feel good about themselves. Like, maybe, better than other people, even. I don’t know. I would never do something like that, but maybe I’m boring. Maybe I’m “uncool” because I don’t destroy things that other people love. I don’t take two things that some people really depend on, like mail and rice crispy treats, and turn them into an icky mess that would make anybody cry. Even on April Fool’s Day.
Well, smooth move, pranksters! Like I’m going to eat that now! You spent all that money on Rice Crispies and marshmallows and it’s going to WASTE. Ha! Who’s laughing now! Huh? Who’s the fool this April?
Well, actually I did eat it. Eventually. And it wasn’t very good, and kind of tasted like burlap. But still, the mail was set free, and I was only sick for a very short period of time. And the point is that I still have my pride. And I still have my mail! It’s a little sticky, but still, let’s open it and enjoy a letter. K?
(And I don’t mean that K is the letter that we should enjoy. Haha. But that would have been a funny word game/pun don’t you think?)
Anyway, here’s the letter: M.
(Haha! Okay that time I was making a funny joke. You have to keep on your toes around me I know.) Okay, let’s have the letter for serious now:
Okay, Mr. Schpyder [ cool name! ] listen, I am NOT lying. Don’t make me put up a picture of it because I will. I will totally ask my mom if I can borrow the scanner and I will scan the Marf and you will be sorry. I am warning you. Mess with the bull, you get the horns.
I guess GameSpy was feeling bad about those totally rigged elections in which Chrono Trigger made Grim Fandango cry. So now they gave us this, which is nice, but it’s no this. Still, yay. Yay for Grim. Yay for Grim, and Kittens, and beer.
Will Wright gave me a Marf at GDC. I don’t want to make anybody out there jealous, because you really shouldn’t be. At least, not if Will also gave you a Marf. But of course, if Will didn’t Marf you… then your insides should be crawling with the parasites of jealousy. Your Marf-less pancreas should be mostly devoured now. I’m only telling you this because I care. I wouldn’t want you to feel bad just because you received so much less than I did. So much less.
Now, wipe that tear away and go do your taxes!
Not sure why he hates you, but Scott won’t put up DFAC #28. He’s all, “Waaa waaaa, waaaaAA! Deadline today! I’m busy!”
And while, yes, technically, it is true that we have a big milestone due this Friday, I think Scott is being a big baby. Just like this:
Except this picture has me as the baby, and Scott as the grown-up with all the creepy rings on. So just imagine that it’s like this picture, but reversed!
Ha ha! Now you see it is SCOTT who is a baby, and I am the one with the creepy—
Ha ha for real this time! NOW it is clear that it is SCOTT who is the newborn baby who can not put up his comic, and I, TIM, am the mature one who does not suck his thumb!!! I hope that is clear now.
Anyway, the point is, if you want the new comic, mail Scott and nag him to do it.
And tell him to stop being a baby, and don’t mention me. And ask him why he wears those creepy rings.
You may have heard about this already, but just to confirm: there is no hand soap in the kitchen. Maybe CERTAIN PEOPLE consider the watered-down dish soap by the sink to be hand soap, but my delicate hands and I do not. Though my skin has the same fair, smooth consistency of fine china, I am not a dish (except in that way that indicates that I am super good-looking, which I am). Real dishwashing soap (yes, even Palmolive) will dry out your hands real quick. Maybe if CERTAIN PEOPLE spent less time drawing unicorns, and more time ordering hand soap, then THOSE VERY SAME CERTAIN PEOPLE wouldn’t have to wear headphones to block out the screams from my office as I try to type the news with dry, cracked, bloody hands!
In other news: Psychonauts is awesome.