Some people are saying that the Double Fine Action News is starting to take a long time to load. If you are having this problem it is obviously due to a clog or hairball in your intake pipe. What you need is to pass some large object through to remove the obstruction.
So, here. Hopefully, this will clear your tubes:
The programmers caught a new, much larger, much scarier mouse than Dylan. Look at that evil pink claw it’s scraping across the glass! Arrrrr! Arrr-rarrrr! They say it can be rehabilitated, and it needs grief counseling. Hand it over to The Suffocator, that’s what I say.
You have been drafted into the Double Fine Spam Machine!
I have a message here that you have to help me spread all over the globe as quickly as possible. Please mail it to EVERY SINGLE PROGRAMMER THAT YOU HAVE EVER MET IN YOUR LIFE, and then tell them to do the same. In fact, send it to the non-programmers too. Double Fine needs programmers! We need their delicious brain meats! Oops! I mean, their mad skillz.
Copy the message below, paste it into an email, and send it off right now!
Hurry! I’ll look out for cops.
——-Cut and Mail this Part. Not this line, the part below this line.——-
This part: Oh, wait. Not this line either. Start with the next line. Okay…go!
From: Your Only Friend in the World
Sent: Saturday, October 12, 2002 8:00 PM
To: Everybody I’ve ever met
Cc: People I’ve yet to meet
Subject: Gameplay Programmer + Double Fine = YOU!
Dear Programming Friend (or friend who isn’t a programmer but who might know someone who knows a programmer):
Have I told you lately that I love you? Well, I do.
So much so, that I want you to take care of yourself, and quit your stupid job.
So dumb it is! And so unlike you! You are smart. And likeable!
Maybe you thought you had a good job. Heck, we all said we were happy for you when you got it, but that’s because we were just relieved that you got something. Now we can tell you the truth: You could do better. You are pleasant-smelling and generous. Your life has been hard, and most of it is over—But only the bad part. The good part is ahead of you, as a Gameplay Programmer at Double Fine Productions.
You heard me. Gameplay Programmer. The person who they hire will program gameplay. Yes, it is the most fun job in the world. You could be the programmer who makes the monkeys dance and the ghouls eat brains! Deep down you’ve always known you had this power, and now it’s time to get paid for it.
Check out the Double Fine job page. Then slap together a cover letter and send it with your resume to jobs @ doublefine.com! Tell them you want to make games. If you do that, then I can promise you one simple thing: Everything will be better from now on. The sun will shine brighter, the air will smell better, and noisy irritating things will nudge ever so slightly away from you. Things will stop sticking to things they are not supposed to stick to, and other things will become less expensive. I, your caring friend, will pay you the money I owe you, and you get to punch me as hard as you want in one arm, but I get to pick the arm and you only get to punch me once.
Oh, and one more thing: You have to send this email on to everybody you have ever met in your life, or else you’ll get this nasty skin infection. Sorry, I guess I should have told you that before you opened it. My bad.
Please get yourself hired at Double Fine right now. Because then, later, you can get me a job there. And then, really, you could quit. I couldn’t care less.
You Know Who
Real Psychonauts News!!!
No, not HERE. What are you thinking? In print! I have just received advance word that the brand new XBOX Nation magazine has, within it, this big feature on Psychonauts and Double Fine. There are some pictures of us, and I think some holograms and maybe a scratch ‘n’ sniff section, and I heard this one rumor that they’ve stapled a real mouse into each and every copy. It’s AWESOME, or so I’ve heard. And I can imagine it, using my imagination. Shhhh. I’m imagining right now. Oh, man. This is great! Why, yes, I’ll totally sign your copy, recording artist P!nk. Yes, I have been working out, thanks for noticing! What’s that? You’ve lost all of the master tapes of all your videos, and they’re gone forever unless you find someone who has all of them saved on TiVo?
Tips for Mice
Here are some tips for any adventurous mice who are planning a vacation trip to Double Fine Productions.
Eating: There is a lovely box of almond cookies on Lance’s desk. The box is closed, but it is made out of a thin plastic that you could easily nibble through, and maybe you could even take it home and convert it into a little mouse hot tub!
Places to go: We recommend you try the programmer’s office. Though some humans would call it stuffy, homesick mice will appreciate its warm, nest-like funk. Also, the programmers have a ban on the death penalty. That’s right, they don’t kill mice! The capture them, feed them Doritos, and then set them free. Free to run wild and spread disease and eat up grain and be the filthy, beady-eyed, small-handed, snake-tailed, sewer-dwelling, razor-toothed poo nibblers that they all love to be!
Try to avoid: All mouse travelers are advised to steer clear of the Double Fine Level Designer Row. I don’t want to say who, but one of the level designers likes to catch mice alive, and then… Oh, wow. I really can’t even say. It’s just too gross. If I had been here that day I would have stopped it. Anyway, he only did it once, and he’s very sorry.
Here’s the thing:
There was a brief period here where I had no mouse traps set out. I thought the mice were gone! I started working barefoot again, and leaving half-eaten wheels of gouda on my desk overnight. Then, suddenly, three mice swarmed Double Fine in what we believe to be a planned, coordinated attack.
The first one ended up in the programmer’s office. Now, these guys play so much Quake, I would have assumed that murder would be second nature to them. But what do they do when a real killing opportunity comes scampering across the carpet? They gently lead it outside and set it free! Can you believe it? That mouse probably ran into the deli next door, accidentally fell into the meat slicer, and wound up in the chicken salad that I ate today. Probably. That’s what I get for hiring Mac guys! Whisker-kissing sissies, each and every one.
Then this second mouse busted in, and was not quite so lucky. It had to misfortune to come upon a stranger, a level designer, who we will merely refer to as “The Suffocator.” This second mouse was dispatched in such a slow, gruesome manner, that I’m just going to end this paragraph right now, without even taking time to use a period
And now we have this third mouse, pictured below in yesterday’s news item. Once again, it was caught by the programmers. (In case you’ve never seen one, that puffy pink thing under the mouse, that’s a programmer.) But this time, I CAUGHT the programmers who caught the mouse, and I didn’t want this one falling into my chicken salad. Yet, I didn’t side with The Suffocator either. Morally, I am on the fence. We can’t keep it as a pet. It’s chock full of the West Nile Virus for crying out loud. But I can’t kill it. How would I do that? I prefer to let mousetraps do my killing, while I am at home, asleep in my bed. Now I have made eye contact with the thing. How am I supposed to crush his little head with the heel of my shoe, and watch those tiny little eyes come popping out like caviar?
My brother used to say that when you die the first thing you have to do is apologize, one by one, to everything and everyone that you killed in your life, even if you killed them on accident. They stand in a big, long, single-file line, and beginning with the smallest amoebas and worms, you have to say, “I’m sorry I killed you,” to each one. And work your way up through the mice you’ve trapped, birds you shot with a BB gun, cats that ran in front of your car, dogs you’ve fed chocolate, horses you tripped with wires while filming Conan the Barbarian, and finally any people you had to bump off when you worked for the mob, or what have you. So if I killed this mouse and popped out his eyes, and then later I died, I wouldn’t even get very far down my own personal line before I came upon that little, eyeless thing. And I’d say, “I’m sorry.” And he’d say, “Sorry? Sorry? WHAT ABOUT MY EYES?!?” And then he’s hiss like a Skeksis and I’d say, “Look, I’m sorry. Really.” And he’d hiss, “What’s that? I can’t hear you! I’ve got NO EYES!!! Hsssss!” And then I’m like, “Whatever, dude.” And I’d move on and apologize to bigger animals, but the eyeless mouse would follow me on up the line, messing things up, hissing, “Don’t listen to him! His apologies are as hollow and empty as my eye socketsssssss! Hsssss!” And maybe I’d even make to heaven, and I’d be walking around in a white robe, and trying to make friends, and maybe right when I’m talking to this really cute girl about harps or something, and she’s laughing and everything’s going really well, and then the mouse would crawl up on my shoulder and hiss, “I don’t know what you see in him, but maybe that’s just because I’VE GOT NO EYESSSSssss!” And then I’d say, “Why do you always have to be so uncool, Dylan?” Because by that point, I probably would have gotten around to naming him.
Well, I just don’t know what to do. I could hide him in the coffee grinder, and then someone else might accidentally kill him and they would have to ride around heaven with him on their shoulder. But then the coffee would taste even more like mouse feet. Hmmm. Hmmm. Hmmmmmmm.
Finally, we have taken a prisoner!
Things look pretty comfortable for you now, mouse, but soon we will stop feeding you Doritos, and then surely you will tell us the location of the secret home base!
Dear Diary: The excellent game Psychonauts has finally passed milestone #11, and Double Fine, like the Donner Party, has survived. For the most part. We did loose all of our oxen, some artists, and a small piece of our humanity that we weren’t really using anyway. But now, it’s time to relax, eat the bodies of our fallen party members, and re-install Warcraft III on my machine.
Speaking of relaxing, I watched a LOT of Mtv over Labor Day weekend, and let me just tell you—some things are going to change around here.
After taking in the VMA awards, a couple “Diary” episodes, and a “Making the Video” or two, I’ve spotted a big flaw in the Double Fine business plan. Not nearly enough of what Double Fine does is geared towards impressing the recording artist P!nk. I feel that much more could be done in this very important area of our business. In case you haven’t seen any P!nk videos, just know this: she is very cool. She can ride a skateboard, and do back flips, and I think we should all be trying harder here to impress her. The first step, of course, is to get better at Warcraft III. I know I should be better at it, and I’ve resolved to many times, but this time I have P!nk’s opinion of me to consider, and I think that will motivate me.
Second step: I noticed in one of her videos, is that there’s this mohawk guy, and she licks his stomach. I don’t understand why, but who am I to question P!nk? Needless to say, I’m having my stomach professionally flavorized, and I’m finally going to cut those big mats out of my stomach hair. Just in case.
Hi. Sorry to bug you, but you left your sweater here at the office. It’s a small, fleece sweater with three blue roses on it. Don’t you miss this cozy garment? It will be hanging up by the door, waiting for you. You don’t even have to come inside to get it, if you’re embarrassed. You can just reach right through the gate and grab it. Just make sure you don’t have any shiny rings or bracelets on that hand, because shiny things drive the guard monkeys crazy.