*rub rub*

You know how evil folks are said to rub their hands together in sheer malevolent joy? Well, those sad chumps have nothing on me. That's cuz I've added my feet to the fleshy mix of ill will. Why, you might ask, is my will ill? Because in two days Sean "I work for Glenn the Gargoyle now" Harrigan must deliver his "billion seller" game concept.

And, no, that's not the reason my appendages are currently conjoined in communal caresses.

Check out his parameters:

1) It must appeal equally to all age groups, genders, species, and magical qualities (including undead status--especially undead status).

2) It must be difficult enough to attract hardcore gamers but easy enough for my ninety-year-old grandma to pick up and play as her first game. And win.

3) It must look amazing and have high production values. Well beyond the cutting edge. All for the bargain basement cost of $10.97 (we're talking about the budget here, folks, not the price of the game itself--the game will naturally retail for $100 and sell a billion copies).

4) It should include lots of guns and shooting (Darla read an article on demographics and preferences) but avoid any such unpleasantness as people being shot or hurt. That's right, many guns and no deaths. Or hurts. Not even hurts!

I'm in such a delightfully devious mood I think I'll swipe his spaghetti from the fridge again and deny it. Since the vending machine is empty, he'll have to eat that years old package of Life Savers for lunch. He thinks he's so damned creative. Let's see him get creative about lunch. Hat? Foot? Words? That's not creative for him. That's business lunch as usual.

Paybacks are Hades in the blogosphere!

Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated

There's only one thing I love more than crows eating humans, and that's humans eating crow. How about a dose of self-humiliation to wash down that gamy bird, Sean, old sport?

Turns out, not only have I not been "fired" by Darla, I have been promoted. My new title is a ridiculous concoction, naturally, and I cannot even hope to recall it at present. Or perhaps ever. But that hardly matters to me because the upshot is that that crow-munching human has been placed on my staff. That's right, he answers to me now! It was painfully obvious to Darla, as well as anyone who happened to read this blog, that I was in over my head. His vehement exhortations that I should "play a few video games or something before you, I dunno, try to make one" were merely an underhanded way to make me miss my deadline. And it worked. But those Pyrrhic victories have a way of biting you in the portable beanbags, don't they, buddy boy?

Cuz--you ready for the best part?

He has exactly one week to come up with a viable concept for a game. Not just viable, mind; one that will sell until the cows come home and collapse exhausted from having been well and truly milked within an inch of their pointless, bovine lives.

OR (and here's my fave part) he will be let go. By Darla. At 10,000 feet.

Who's laughing now, hairy man?

Mega Man is really, REALLY annoying!

It is dawning on me how hazardous my ongoing dependence on Sean could prove to my health. I suspect he was putting one over on me when he said a certain game would be good for a beginner to practice with. Or perhaps I misheard him. Did he say Meta Man, or something? I certainly hope it was "or something" because I have been curled up in a fetal position (yes, it's apparently possible to play a video game in a fetal position) trying to complete this thing for the past 72 hours. Nothing could make me put the controller down; food, sleep, bathroom breaks, all were nothing to me. Yes, I'm a little ripe just now.

I will spare you the pungent expletives with which I assailed my innocent television and simply take issue (calm, cool, collected issue, if at all possible) with those infernal red lunchbox-headed critters on their pogo sticks. Confounded cretins! The so-called Mega Man is weak sauce to their double extra spicy barbecue glaze. And what a fool this Mega Fellow is! Clearly the pogo-things are at a great physical disadvantage as they are extremely top-heavy and hop about upon a single appendage. Simply topple them, you Mega Dolt! But noooo. Self-annihilation is vastly preferable to a tiny shove from the blue man. And don't get me started on that yellow "I will throw bits of myself at you until you die but I will never run out of myself" sandman.

Unfortunately, and here's the real problem, I spent so much time attempting to finish this thoroughly evil game (I never made it past Deconstructionism Man) that I missed the deadline for my game altogether. So, very likely this will be the last the world will ever hear from me. This blog, I mean. Hardly a legacy the likes of War and Peace. More like Fruit and Nuts.

Sean is annoying

Sean is annoying. Today he accused me of stealing his spaghetti from the refrigerator. I said I hate spaghetti and why would I do that. He said if you hate spaghetti what is that spaghetti sauce doing on your face. I said that's blood and I cut myself shaving this morning. He said who the hell shaves at work anyway and what a load of, well, you know. I am ignoring his emo (some cool kids' word he uses all the time) paranoid outbursts. I'm better than that. I'm soooo much frickin' better. He's soggy bread to my nice piece of crispy toast. He's just jealous. Damn it to Hades. Who needs him? Other than me. And, btw, his spaghetti tasted like, well, you know.

New IDEAS!

Hello, interactive entertainment fans. Yes, week two of my two week project is half over and, no, I have no illusions here. Just because I played a bona fide video game (albeit one on the venerable Atari 2600), that doesn't mean I can make a Halo clone, or clone a Halo, or however one says it. One thing is certain, Sean what's-his-name-again is, shall we say, unsympathetic to my plight. In fact, last Friday he laughed in my face when I told him about my assignment. He wasn't laughing so hard after I gouged a chunk of flesh out of his arm (we gargoyles have wicked claws) and demanded the ten dollars he borrowed from me three years ago. I am a patient gargoyle but I have my limits. When I told him that I had played Pitfall! to familiarize myself with a famous video game, he suggested I repeat this strategy with games of all types, even if that put me closer to my deadline. What a pal. So I played lots of pinball this weekend. I chose pinball for two reasons: 1) it is the only game that I can actually play at all, and 2) it is within the scope of my artistic abilities to draw a circle (granted, I usually use the bottom of a beer bottle). When I told Sean about this, he seemed suitably impressed and informed me that there is a popular video game not terribly different from Halo in which you are often playing as a pinball (the title sounded similar to Altoid?). Perhaps this will be a snap after all. I even had a brilliant idea which could turn the pinball into a great character. Try this on for size: what if his mouth looked like a slice missing from a round pizza? My god, the elegant genius of that! And he must eat things, this Puck Man. Hm, note to self: find new name, as that one lends itself to certain vicious wordplay. I'm just glad no one else has thought of this before. Whew.