I'm In My Undies. That's... So Not Appropriate.
How's that for an entry title? I'm not really sitting here in my underwear. I mean, not just my underwear. Um. You know what? Let's just forget that last and move on. Here we go. Yes, I've been playing The Longest Journey again. I know, I know. I'm pathetic, I should get a life, I should go out with my friends instead, yadda yadda yadda. Well, tough. I happen to like the characters in TLJ more than I like most of my friends. You know who you are. (On that note: No, I really don't care, nor do I want to be bothered about who said what about anyone, be it to their face or behind their back. Leave me the hell out of it.) Anyway. April Ryan and her creators get credit for the undies comment. Apparently I'm like, one of three Americans who have ever heard of The Longest Journey, so I'll just put everything else behind a cut...
This is basically for the people I've yelled at for interrupting me while I've been playing TLJ. Oh, who am I trying to kid? It's just for myself. You can go away now. I'm going to entertain myself here for a few minutes, and what follows will mean absolutely nothing unless you happen to have a copy of The Longest Journey. I won't even explain the storyline. I'll just say that it's the best adventure game ever, and if you've never played it - you suck.
Anyway. Yes, I like the characters more than you all. Deal with it. Really, though, how can you not love a game that introduces Fiona, a sexy British lesbian landlord within the first five minutes? A hedonistic sexy British lesbian landlord, what's more. Honest to Jeebus. Here's one of the first exchanges between Fiona and April (your character):
April: Where's everybody this morning?
Fiona: Mickey's tied up in the basement... Mind you, she's not literally tied up, of course -- although that is a tempting thought.
April: Are we getting into your sexual fantasies here, Fiona? Because it's a little too early in the morning for that, don't you think?
Fiona: Sorry. I just can't help myself...
That was such a surprise the first time I played. I heard the name Mickey and thought pfft, loser boyfriend. Sometimes it's nice to be wrong. Anyway. A bit more:
April: Tell me a little about yourself, Fiona.
Fiona: Me? Why, there's not much to say, darling. I love my job, I love Venice, and I love being with Mickey. I'm a happy girl.
April: How long have you and Mickey been together?
Fiona: Mickey and I've been together since I was nineteen. She was in her thirties then. The older, wiser, worldly woman. I found her sweet and charming and intriguing... When I finally realized she was neither of those things, it was too late -- I was in love. She stole me away from my dreary, British inner-city life, and she brought me here. She was no knight in shining armor, that's for sure, but she knew how to treat me like a woman.
April: You guys make a great couple.
Fiona: You think so, darling? Yes, I guess we do. And the sex is amazing.
Is it weird to have a crush on a game character? Oh, shut up. You've never seen Fiona. Or heard her. Who are you to judge? And anyway, didn't I tell you to go away? Don't you know it's rude to listen when people talk to themselves? Ooh, I almost forgot this one:
April: What made you decide to run a boarding house?
Fiona: That's a long story. One of the reasons Mickey and I got together was that we shared a passion for the classic English country inns. You know -- quaint, weathered buildings, funny old ladies, and oddly suggestive names like "The Lazy Cock".
Hee. Immaturity is fun. This is my gutter. Go find your own. And speaking of immaturity, you have to love Burns Flipper, the legless wonder. He reminds me of someone, but I can't quite put my finger on who. That's probably a good thing. Classic Flipper:
Flipper: Hey, I'm warning you, don't fuck with those Vanguard shitheads, yeah? They bite, and I bet you they don't let go, like fucking -- what do you call those little fucking dogs that don't let go?
April: Pit bull terriers?
Flipper: Shit. Man, those things are nasty. Fucking wicked nasty!
Or there's Flipper's explanation of what happened to his legs:
Flipper: So they caught me, with my finger up the proverbial anus, you know what I'm saying? I was hooked up, cruising their network, when they hit me with some shit-hits-the-fan tech... Fried my brain like breakfast sausages... Major brain malfunction! I was as dead as a lesbian black chick at a Republican fundraiser. Woke up from the coma a week later, some shit-spewing goons from MTI are hovering over me...
Gotta love him. Or, you know, not. Whatever. But all that's in Stark. Arcadia has some good... Well, let's just go with creatures to simple things up a bit. Case in point: The Gribbler.
Gribbler: Oh please, pretty lady, pretty please, help me! I've fallen and I can't...ssstand up.
April: What happened to you?
Gribbler: Oh, I was out picking bonesss-- Berries...berries for my stew...and...and flowers, yes, pretty flowersss! But then I tripped over a big old root, and twisted my ankle. It hurts ssso. Please help me home, pretty lady. Please?
April: Who are you?
Gribbler: Oh, I'm nobody, nobody at all, just a frail old woman picking bonesss-- Berries! Picking berries for her stew so she can feed her pris-- Guests! Feed her guestsss, and fatten them up for the...long winter.
April: Why do you keep swallowing your words?
Gribbler: Because I'm just a frail, old, forgetful woman. Yesss. I ssstill need your help, plump pudd-- Pretty girl. I can't walk all the way home by myssself, you see. Help me home and I'll cook you...a good, thick, creamy stew. Yum. I'm getting hungry myssself. Let's go!
Shades of Hansel and Gretle, right? And it imparts an important life lesson - don't trust the elderly. Or something. April said it best in her journal: "I should've known something was wrong with that old woman. I mean, she was drooling and slobbering all over me, she kept tripping over her words and saying stuff like "prisoners" instead of "guests"', and her teeth were abnormally large. But still! If you can't trust sweet old ladies who've hurt their leg picking berries in the forest, who CAN you trust?"
I suppose you could trust the helpful Venar diplomat, Abnaxus. If you could understand what the frilly heck he was talking about...
April: Sorry, I-- I really don't know what you're talking about.
Abnaxus: It is difficult for us too, April-Ryan, to understand you. We, the Venar, are not perceiving time like your people. In this moment we are everywhere. In this moment we are nowhere.
Or else... How's this for cryptic and confusing?
April: What's all this got to do with me?
Abnaxus: It was late. You were tired. We have talked in the morning when you come to visit me. Now you understand everything. Thank you, April-Ryan. The blessings of the Balance to you too.
April: Did you just invite me to your home?
Abnaxus: I will. I did. I invite you to my home, April-Ryan. My home was in the Marcuria city green, and you will find it. In the morning. Before chaos came. I am explaining everything, and you understood.
Isn't that just like a politician? But the best example of politics in The Longest Journey takes place in the police station lobby in Stark. I love the lady behind the desk. Almost as much as I love Fiona...
April: I need the requisition form called "Short-Term Tactical Suspension of Union Members Benefits".
Desk Sergeant: All right, all right, what's the number?
April: Number?
Desk Sergeant: I need to know the identification number of that form. You know, the five-digit alpha-numerical ID?
April: Aren't those documents arranged alphabetically?
Desk Sergeant: Yeah. Yeah, they are. But I--still--need--a--number! Capisce?
April: I don't have an identification number! I just know the name of the requisition. It's-
Desk Sergeant: No, can't help you without an ID number. Rules are rules.
April: I'm sorry, but doesn't this situation strike you as disturbingly Kafka-esque?
Desk Sergeant: Nah, it's more of a Bergmanian pastiche on a Kafka-esque theme. My unwillingness to yield is less a bureaucratic necessity than a petty desire to transfer the burden of my miserable existence onto others.
Bwah-ha-ha-ha! Okay, maybe that's only funny if you actually stayed awake through your political and ethical courses in college. Or maybe I just have a really strange sense of humor. Shut up. Aren't you gone yet? Anyway. Or how about later, after April figures out the form number?
April: I need a requisition form; number 09042, "Short-Term Tactical Suspension of Union Members Benefits".
Desk Sergeant: Hold on... Here.
April: I'm sorry, but I need the 09042-A requisition form addendum as well.
Desk Sergeant: The what? The 09042-A? Why the hell didn't you ask me for that one in the first place?
April: Because I'm a cruel bitch, and I love torturing you. In fact, I've made it my life's mission to haunt you forever and ever with requests for useless forms and documents.
As much as I hate bullshit bureaucracy, I hope I get to use that line someday. What? I already acknowledged the fact that I'm pathetic beyond the point or hope of redemption. (Hey, is that from Mary Fahl?) Anyway. Bite me. It's not like I asked anyone to read this. So if you wasted your time, don't yell at me. Like April says: lighten up, wear plaid, whatever.
There. I actually had no reason to write all that, but it's been a while since I updated and I felt bad. No, that's a lie. I just got sick of people e-mailing and asking if I was still alive. Maybe if I bore people to tears enough they'll stop telling me to update... "Why don't you write something? What's going on? Is something wrong? Where did you go? Come back and entertain me with your sarcasm and your chaotic life..."
You know what, Sparkies and Sparkettes? Go entertain yourselves. My life is not set down for you to laugh at. Well, it is, mostly, but still... Yeah, I've got nothing to follow that with. Go ahead. Mock away.
This is basically for the people I've yelled at for interrupting me while I've been playing TLJ. Oh, who am I trying to kid? It's just for myself. You can go away now. I'm going to entertain myself here for a few minutes, and what follows will mean absolutely nothing unless you happen to have a copy of The Longest Journey. I won't even explain the storyline. I'll just say that it's the best adventure game ever, and if you've never played it - you suck.
Anyway. Yes, I like the characters more than you all. Deal with it. Really, though, how can you not love a game that introduces Fiona, a sexy British lesbian landlord within the first five minutes? A hedonistic sexy British lesbian landlord, what's more. Honest to Jeebus. Here's one of the first exchanges between Fiona and April (your character):
April: Where's everybody this morning?
Fiona: Mickey's tied up in the basement... Mind you, she's not literally tied up, of course -- although that is a tempting thought.
April: Are we getting into your sexual fantasies here, Fiona? Because it's a little too early in the morning for that, don't you think?
Fiona: Sorry. I just can't help myself...
That was such a surprise the first time I played. I heard the name Mickey and thought pfft, loser boyfriend. Sometimes it's nice to be wrong. Anyway. A bit more:
April: Tell me a little about yourself, Fiona.
Fiona: Me? Why, there's not much to say, darling. I love my job, I love Venice, and I love being with Mickey. I'm a happy girl.
April: How long have you and Mickey been together?
Fiona: Mickey and I've been together since I was nineteen. She was in her thirties then. The older, wiser, worldly woman. I found her sweet and charming and intriguing... When I finally realized she was neither of those things, it was too late -- I was in love. She stole me away from my dreary, British inner-city life, and she brought me here. She was no knight in shining armor, that's for sure, but she knew how to treat me like a woman.
April: You guys make a great couple.
Fiona: You think so, darling? Yes, I guess we do. And the sex is amazing.
Is it weird to have a crush on a game character? Oh, shut up. You've never seen Fiona. Or heard her. Who are you to judge? And anyway, didn't I tell you to go away? Don't you know it's rude to listen when people talk to themselves? Ooh, I almost forgot this one:
April: What made you decide to run a boarding house?
Fiona: That's a long story. One of the reasons Mickey and I got together was that we shared a passion for the classic English country inns. You know -- quaint, weathered buildings, funny old ladies, and oddly suggestive names like "The Lazy Cock".
Hee. Immaturity is fun. This is my gutter. Go find your own. And speaking of immaturity, you have to love Burns Flipper, the legless wonder. He reminds me of someone, but I can't quite put my finger on who. That's probably a good thing. Classic Flipper:
Flipper: Hey, I'm warning you, don't fuck with those Vanguard shitheads, yeah? They bite, and I bet you they don't let go, like fucking -- what do you call those little fucking dogs that don't let go?
April: Pit bull terriers?
Flipper: Shit. Man, those things are nasty. Fucking wicked nasty!
Or there's Flipper's explanation of what happened to his legs:
Flipper: So they caught me, with my finger up the proverbial anus, you know what I'm saying? I was hooked up, cruising their network, when they hit me with some shit-hits-the-fan tech... Fried my brain like breakfast sausages... Major brain malfunction! I was as dead as a lesbian black chick at a Republican fundraiser. Woke up from the coma a week later, some shit-spewing goons from MTI are hovering over me...
Gotta love him. Or, you know, not. Whatever. But all that's in Stark. Arcadia has some good... Well, let's just go with creatures to simple things up a bit. Case in point: The Gribbler.
Gribbler: Oh please, pretty lady, pretty please, help me! I've fallen and I can't...ssstand up.
April: What happened to you?
Gribbler: Oh, I was out picking bonesss-- Berries...berries for my stew...and...and flowers, yes, pretty flowersss! But then I tripped over a big old root, and twisted my ankle. It hurts ssso. Please help me home, pretty lady. Please?
April: Who are you?
Gribbler: Oh, I'm nobody, nobody at all, just a frail old woman picking bonesss-- Berries! Picking berries for her stew so she can feed her pris-- Guests! Feed her guestsss, and fatten them up for the...long winter.
April: Why do you keep swallowing your words?
Gribbler: Because I'm just a frail, old, forgetful woman. Yesss. I ssstill need your help, plump pudd-- Pretty girl. I can't walk all the way home by myssself, you see. Help me home and I'll cook you...a good, thick, creamy stew. Yum. I'm getting hungry myssself. Let's go!
Shades of Hansel and Gretle, right? And it imparts an important life lesson - don't trust the elderly. Or something. April said it best in her journal: "I should've known something was wrong with that old woman. I mean, she was drooling and slobbering all over me, she kept tripping over her words and saying stuff like "prisoners" instead of "guests"', and her teeth were abnormally large. But still! If you can't trust sweet old ladies who've hurt their leg picking berries in the forest, who CAN you trust?"
I suppose you could trust the helpful Venar diplomat, Abnaxus. If you could understand what the frilly heck he was talking about...
April: Sorry, I-- I really don't know what you're talking about.
Abnaxus: It is difficult for us too, April-Ryan, to understand you. We, the Venar, are not perceiving time like your people. In this moment we are everywhere. In this moment we are nowhere.
Or else... How's this for cryptic and confusing?
April: What's all this got to do with me?
Abnaxus: It was late. You were tired. We have talked in the morning when you come to visit me. Now you understand everything. Thank you, April-Ryan. The blessings of the Balance to you too.
April: Did you just invite me to your home?
Abnaxus: I will. I did. I invite you to my home, April-Ryan. My home was in the Marcuria city green, and you will find it. In the morning. Before chaos came. I am explaining everything, and you understood.
Isn't that just like a politician? But the best example of politics in The Longest Journey takes place in the police station lobby in Stark. I love the lady behind the desk. Almost as much as I love Fiona...
April: I need the requisition form called "Short-Term Tactical Suspension of Union Members Benefits".
Desk Sergeant: All right, all right, what's the number?
April: Number?
Desk Sergeant: I need to know the identification number of that form. You know, the five-digit alpha-numerical ID?
April: Aren't those documents arranged alphabetically?
Desk Sergeant: Yeah. Yeah, they are. But I--still--need--a--number! Capisce?
April: I don't have an identification number! I just know the name of the requisition. It's-
Desk Sergeant: No, can't help you without an ID number. Rules are rules.
April: I'm sorry, but doesn't this situation strike you as disturbingly Kafka-esque?
Desk Sergeant: Nah, it's more of a Bergmanian pastiche on a Kafka-esque theme. My unwillingness to yield is less a bureaucratic necessity than a petty desire to transfer the burden of my miserable existence onto others.
Bwah-ha-ha-ha! Okay, maybe that's only funny if you actually stayed awake through your political and ethical courses in college. Or maybe I just have a really strange sense of humor. Shut up. Aren't you gone yet? Anyway. Or how about later, after April figures out the form number?
April: I need a requisition form; number 09042, "Short-Term Tactical Suspension of Union Members Benefits".
Desk Sergeant: Hold on... Here.
April: I'm sorry, but I need the 09042-A requisition form addendum as well.
Desk Sergeant: The what? The 09042-A? Why the hell didn't you ask me for that one in the first place?
April: Because I'm a cruel bitch, and I love torturing you. In fact, I've made it my life's mission to haunt you forever and ever with requests for useless forms and documents.
As much as I hate bullshit bureaucracy, I hope I get to use that line someday. What? I already acknowledged the fact that I'm pathetic beyond the point or hope of redemption. (Hey, is that from Mary Fahl?) Anyway. Bite me. It's not like I asked anyone to read this. So if you wasted your time, don't yell at me. Like April says: lighten up, wear plaid, whatever.
There. I actually had no reason to write all that, but it's been a while since I updated and I felt bad. No, that's a lie. I just got sick of people e-mailing and asking if I was still alive. Maybe if I bore people to tears enough they'll stop telling me to update... "Why don't you write something? What's going on? Is something wrong? Where did you go? Come back and entertain me with your sarcasm and your chaotic life..."
You know what, Sparkies and Sparkettes? Go entertain yourselves. My life is not set down for you to laugh at. Well, it is, mostly, but still... Yeah, I've got nothing to follow that with. Go ahead. Mock away.