Magically, over night, Raz’ comic has become less gross, and less corny.
Haha. Get it? Corny?
Man, let’s get back on track here. This is a news page about Double Fine and the excellent game Psychonauts! Time for some real news!!!
This just in: The Psychonauts Team ate pizza last night. Also, an undisclosed team member reported that she thought one of the firemen next door was kind of hot. If you’re concerned about how much Diet Coke we have in the office, don’t worry. We have a lot.
We don’t have any rats here in the new office, so I have to write about this kind of stuff. Although… leaving work last night, walking under the freeway, a rat jumped out of the ivy and walked along side me for a while, and then jumped back in the ivy. I think it was pacing me, like sharks do. I could only assume it was going back into the ivy for reinforcements, so I protected myself the only way I know how: by squirting out a thick black ink which clouded the nearby water, confusing my enemies, concealing my escape, and turning on any octopuses who happen to be nearby.
Nice use of color, though. Okay, just in case you were totally offended by that, here’s one from Nathan. Unlike Raz, Nathan sits BEHIND Scott, which of course leads to a totally different art style.
(And I did find one missing paragraph terminator in my html code, so if it wasn’t fixed before, the comic index is definitely, totally fixed now.)
You heard Scott (see episode 48 of the DFAC). He’s going on vacation. He can’t do the comics from where he went because they don’t have art there. Art is illegal in the tropical isle where he is hiding. The punishment is death.
But do not worry. We have some special guests coming in this week to help out. The first one debuts today! Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce to you, the guy who sits next to Scott, Razmig Mavlian! Wooooo!
P.S. Thanks for all the helpful letters about the comic index. It’s true I did have some extra white space in there, so I went in there and deleted a bunch, and now it looks perfect. If it doesn’t look good to you, stop using Netscape!
Hey, when you get that email spam with the randomly generated text inside, is that copyrighted by the spammer? Do they own that? Or is it in the public domain because it was created by no human, merely the forces of advertising evil?
I think I’ll post some and see if I get sued. I just got this awesome spam today. First they asked me some rude personal questions about my anatomy, and then, possibly because they realized that I was so not in need of the services they were offering, they switched gears and busted out some freestyle verse:
His round-shaped mp3 player got an idea.
Their round bra spit.
Their expensive green computer stares.
The soft recycle bin fidgeting.
Any given round-shaped picture sleeps.
Any given silver cat stinks.
His brothers white glasses prepare for fight the time that our children round boots got an idea. Any given tall glove falls. His silver camera calms-down. Whose bluish white boat calculates. The round binocyles sleeps while our bluish white recycle bin show its value.
Mine tall white boots calms-down at the place that a given tall t-shirt is on fire. Our children green book is thinking.
An mp3 player that’s round-shaped! Imagine that! And it THINKS! and a spitting bra! A computer who seems depressed. A mysteriously fidgeting, and yet soft recycle bin. Wtf? It’s so evocative, so thoughtful. A fresh, uncompromised voice! If I could just find away to automatically pump my incoming spam into the Double Fine Action News, I would never have to update again!
Okay, I’m taking a nap. While I’m out, the spam’s in charge.
Okay, I sold out. I fixed the comic index. I just couldn’t take the daily emails telling me how do do it any longer. So, there. It should be totally perfect-looking now. It’s all straight and on the grid system. Man, just like in high school, forced to conform. Force to conform to your rules.
Some big news from the Double Fine Action News, Lifestyle Section: Fabulous Animator Ray had a baby! Which is pretty amazing considering he’s a man. I’m not sure exactly how this kind of thing happens, and I hope it’s not something icky, but somehow with the help of his wife Prascilla, Ray made little Elliot Yeachan Crook. Congratulations Ray and Prascilla! (P.S. Don’t worry—I hear the flower turns black and drops off after a couple of days.)
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!