E.T. Video Game, FBI Guy
E.T. The Extra Terrestrial
The Video Game for Atari 2600
People with the minimal amount of video game geek cred will recognize the game as reputedly one of the most abysmal collection of 1's and 0's ever jammed into a circuit board and unleashed upon an unsuspecting public. For some reason I got to thinking about some of the characters (There's 4 total including E.T.) Specifically the FBI Agent.
What the FBI Agent Does:
The FBI Agent will walk up to E.T. and confiscate either a telephone piece or one of your candies, than he'll just walk away. First of all, this is an extraterrestrial life form. An alien visitor to the big blue marble we call Earth. At least the scientist grabs him and takes him somewhere to study him before knocking off for his coffee break.
Second...it's a phone. You're taking a phone from the alien. Not even the entire phone, just a piece of it. Do we really know this guy is with the FBI. Maybe he's with the FCC and just really likes overcoats and fedoras.
Once he confiscates the phone piece you have to find it again in another pit. He doesn't take it in to HQ to fill out a report, he just tosses it in another pit and goes on with his day.
My Thoughts:
I'm convinced now that this fellow (Lets call him Bob) IS with the FCC. Thus we see the reason why he's not particularly interested in the fact that an alien from another world is walking around floating out of pits. Not his department. Years ago, perhaps he would have phoned it in, but he was a younger man back then.
Ah the old days. He joined the FCC and had visions, dreams, goals. "I'm going to be the best FCC agent ever!" he would say to himself as he drove into work, his old '78 Pinto rattling down the highway. "There's going to be a statue, and a plaque! Bob Bobson is going to be the first name on everyone's lips when they think of the FCC. The sky's the limit for you, Bobbo." he'd say, thanking the good Lord above that he wasn't in a carpool.
Then the years passed. Pointless busy work, late nights at the office working on projects and reports that never seem to lead anywhere, pointless office political games that he never seemed to win and most likely never would. How many times did he see other agents with less talent but better smiles get a promotion that by all rights should have been his?
Then one day, one marriage and two kids later he wakes up to look at his wife and realizes...he doesn't know her favorite color. He doesn't know her favorite song. He knows their anniversary but has no idea what she'd like. He passes by the kid's room on his way to his car and it strikes him that he's saving money for their college but has no idea what they hope to study when they get there. What do they want for their birthday? He doesn't know and can't recall a time he ever did.
Heading out to his car. The Pinto. Still the Pinto. The familiar old Pinto driving the familiar old highway to the familiar old office, but with new worries in his head. "I'm married to a woman I don't even know anymore. I have kids reaching milestones in their lives that I never see. Can I do this? Can I stay in this family?" he wonders this and wonders if he really wants to.
It's a war, he decides. On one hand, no he doesn't want this. He doesn't want this job, this wife, these kids. The idea that of reaching the Silver Anniversary...25 years of this. It's like a mountain he can't see the top of. On the other hand, though, it's just one more thing he's screwed up in his life. One more failed dream.
So what does he do? What is left for Bob Bobson? Continue with this Sisyphusian struggle of pushing the boulder of his life up a hill, only to watch it run him over as it rolls back down across him? Is there any other choice really?
By lunch time he's realized he can't eat. He's never been less hungry, both in a literal and metaphorical sense. Instead he dons his overcoat and fedora, old familiar friends from a time when he had many more damns to give, and many more illusions for the world to destroy. He lights his cigarette an sips a cup of coffee from a sub-par coffee shop in town that probably still pulls in more money in a month than he does in a year. While walking among the pits-each one an apt metaphor for his life-he spots it. An oddly shaped, almost snake-like with large eyes attached to a thin tubular neck. In it's long thin arms a collection of equipment.
This, he thought, was an opportunity. A way to get that statue, that plaque, that recognition that he'd forgotten he was ever seeking. And in this moment where he was faced with this figurative golden ring he felt nothing. Not the vaguest stirring of emotion. He saw paper work to be filled out, reports to write, and rewrite, more late nights that make him more of a stranger to his wife and children. More boulders to push up more hills. Not this time. Not Bob Bobson.
He approached the creature and sneers "I'm not Sisyphus, and your not licensed to carry this." he says to the thing. He takes away a portion of the unlicensed communications equipment, not even doing the bare minimum of his job. As he walks away he stares at the piece of equipment, realizing it represented another report he'd have to write. He shakes his head and tosses it into a random pit "Not Sisyphus." he mutters.
In the distance he swears that he can just barely hear a voice cry out from the heavens "Damn it! Frickin' FBI Guy!" Bob shakes his head and continues walking "The universe couldn't even get that right." he says and returns to the office.
The Video Game for Atari 2600
People with the minimal amount of video game geek cred will recognize the game as reputedly one of the most abysmal collection of 1's and 0's ever jammed into a circuit board and unleashed upon an unsuspecting public. For some reason I got to thinking about some of the characters (There's 4 total including E.T.) Specifically the FBI Agent.
What the FBI Agent Does:
The FBI Agent will walk up to E.T. and confiscate either a telephone piece or one of your candies, than he'll just walk away. First of all, this is an extraterrestrial life form. An alien visitor to the big blue marble we call Earth. At least the scientist grabs him and takes him somewhere to study him before knocking off for his coffee break.
Second...it's a phone. You're taking a phone from the alien. Not even the entire phone, just a piece of it. Do we really know this guy is with the FBI. Maybe he's with the FCC and just really likes overcoats and fedoras.
Once he confiscates the phone piece you have to find it again in another pit. He doesn't take it in to HQ to fill out a report, he just tosses it in another pit and goes on with his day.
My Thoughts:
I'm convinced now that this fellow (Lets call him Bob) IS with the FCC. Thus we see the reason why he's not particularly interested in the fact that an alien from another world is walking around floating out of pits. Not his department. Years ago, perhaps he would have phoned it in, but he was a younger man back then.
Ah the old days. He joined the FCC and had visions, dreams, goals. "I'm going to be the best FCC agent ever!" he would say to himself as he drove into work, his old '78 Pinto rattling down the highway. "There's going to be a statue, and a plaque! Bob Bobson is going to be the first name on everyone's lips when they think of the FCC. The sky's the limit for you, Bobbo." he'd say, thanking the good Lord above that he wasn't in a carpool.
Then the years passed. Pointless busy work, late nights at the office working on projects and reports that never seem to lead anywhere, pointless office political games that he never seemed to win and most likely never would. How many times did he see other agents with less talent but better smiles get a promotion that by all rights should have been his?
Then one day, one marriage and two kids later he wakes up to look at his wife and realizes...he doesn't know her favorite color. He doesn't know her favorite song. He knows their anniversary but has no idea what she'd like. He passes by the kid's room on his way to his car and it strikes him that he's saving money for their college but has no idea what they hope to study when they get there. What do they want for their birthday? He doesn't know and can't recall a time he ever did.
Heading out to his car. The Pinto. Still the Pinto. The familiar old Pinto driving the familiar old highway to the familiar old office, but with new worries in his head. "I'm married to a woman I don't even know anymore. I have kids reaching milestones in their lives that I never see. Can I do this? Can I stay in this family?" he wonders this and wonders if he really wants to.
It's a war, he decides. On one hand, no he doesn't want this. He doesn't want this job, this wife, these kids. The idea that of reaching the Silver Anniversary...25 years of this. It's like a mountain he can't see the top of. On the other hand, though, it's just one more thing he's screwed up in his life. One more failed dream.
So what does he do? What is left for Bob Bobson? Continue with this Sisyphusian struggle of pushing the boulder of his life up a hill, only to watch it run him over as it rolls back down across him? Is there any other choice really?
By lunch time he's realized he can't eat. He's never been less hungry, both in a literal and metaphorical sense. Instead he dons his overcoat and fedora, old familiar friends from a time when he had many more damns to give, and many more illusions for the world to destroy. He lights his cigarette an sips a cup of coffee from a sub-par coffee shop in town that probably still pulls in more money in a month than he does in a year. While walking among the pits-each one an apt metaphor for his life-he spots it. An oddly shaped, almost snake-like with large eyes attached to a thin tubular neck. In it's long thin arms a collection of equipment.
This, he thought, was an opportunity. A way to get that statue, that plaque, that recognition that he'd forgotten he was ever seeking. And in this moment where he was faced with this figurative golden ring he felt nothing. Not the vaguest stirring of emotion. He saw paper work to be filled out, reports to write, and rewrite, more late nights that make him more of a stranger to his wife and children. More boulders to push up more hills. Not this time. Not Bob Bobson.
He approached the creature and sneers "I'm not Sisyphus, and your not licensed to carry this." he says to the thing. He takes away a portion of the unlicensed communications equipment, not even doing the bare minimum of his job. As he walks away he stares at the piece of equipment, realizing it represented another report he'd have to write. He shakes his head and tosses it into a random pit "Not Sisyphus." he mutters.
In the distance he swears that he can just barely hear a voice cry out from the heavens "Damn it! Frickin' FBI Guy!" Bob shakes his head and continues walking "The universe couldn't even get that right." he says and returns to the office.