Rigor mortis

And thus has come the time to unveil the fruits of my labour, the culmination of my mission, the lovesong of my loins.....scratch that last one, I have been reading a little too much Nabokov.

Reap What You Saw

The game portending your collective demise is in its most finished stage yet. As they say, "download" it from the link above and play it.

The "HELP" there is misleading. You will receive no help, since there is no escape. Imagine being stuck on one of those conveyor belts. Instead of leading into a cabin full of luggage, this one leads into a pit of fire. Clicking on "HELP" will provide information on "controlling" me. Also, you can make me join and leave some of these gangs of yours. However, just to prove how, as you say, 'macho' I am, I will join your gangs only once. That is enough for me to set off wars among your like. So simple to divide you and conquer.

There, at the bottom, are your gangs, colour coded. I must apologise for not catering to the colour-blind before destroying them. Note my fearsome head at the bottom right. And a farcical 'health' bar. You need not worry yourself about my health; should it decrease at any point, I have convenient points to replenish it, as indicated by the green square in the circular minimap in the picture below.

I have also equipped myself with seven different kinds of weapons. Why seven? A little variety spices up the soul-reaping. I am especially fond of the mini-gun and what you call the RPG (though the flamethrower is a dazzling spectacle as well).

But I ramble. Have fun playing this little game of mine, my imminent minions. And should you have minor quibbles, let me know what those are. I shall resolve them all.

Ominous laugh.

Mortal mayhem

Verily, it has been ages since I filled you, my intended victims, in on what would become of you, and how it would (be)come about. I have been a trifle busy over the past weeks and I would tell you what it was that kept me so occupied, but then I would have to kill you.....since that is what is going to happen anyway, I might as well reveal my methods and machinations. As I had indicated before, I am writing a painstakingly accurate game depicting your collective, untimely, yet richly deserved, demise. There were unforeseen (which is ironic, since I foresee everything) delays in progress, on account of me choosing the wrong software.


You have, as a species, made some remarkable progress technologically. I am nearly as impressed as I was when those people in Pompeii got simultaneously buried, lo those many years ago. I was less than underwhelmed by my choice of software about a week into development and gave up, something I am not accustomed to. That made me very very angry, of course, and I destroyed several good pieces of black clothing (I buy it for my robe). Patience prevailed, afterwards, and I was able to knock up something which I deem quite impressive. As it stands, the game begins thus:

Behold the name at the top. It is a message more for me than for you. I shall, indeed, reap what I see whilst I am there. (Needless to say, you may enlarge the picture by clicking on it. I will not clutter up your screen by posting mammoth images there. I am kind that way. Only that way.)


Should you dare to click "START GAME" to find out more, like some people who have a morbid wish to find out when and how they will die, you will see me walking amongst you. However, since I do not wish to startle you with my steely, fearful countenance (and that job is presently being handled most efficiently by your 'television reporters'), I will let you gaze at me from a distance.

There, encircled in red, I am. Walking purposefully. I see you have arranged yourselves into groups. Little families and societies organised around leaders. 

Very well, I will have to destroy you and those foolish enough to follow you. No mercy for young or old, weak or able, left- or right-handed. I will leave a trail with your blood strewn across it.

Let that strike fear in your hearts. There will be more damage, more chaos, more mortal mayhem as I make my way across this world of yours. Take care of yourselves as much as you can as your inexorable march towards annihilation continues.


Now leave me be, for I must think. You can be of use, too. Try getting those damned reality shows off your televisions. You live in reality, why would you watch that to entertain yourselves as well? All the more reason for me to rid the planet of your kind.

Impending doom

One of the things angst-ridden teenagers like to say in a whiny tone is, "Nobody gets me!"

Well, don't worry, little ones, Papa Death always gets you. He's perhaps the only one who never fails to get anybody.

On a different note, I am appalled at the longevity of some of you. Some are living well past a century and kicking the bucket only at ridiculous numbers like 118 and 124. At this age, even the bucket has died and you're only kicking the next generation. What are you doing?! You are not tortoises!

So, to flatten things out a bit, I will come down (or up, whatever you see fit) and shoot you people up (or down). No, there's no way around this; things have been going awry for too long now. I'm sorry, but this is how it has to be.

To demonstrate just how 'it' will unfold, I've decided to write a little game. You are all alive now only because I'm a little busy with this. Once I'm done though....

Let me show you some uncannily accurate depictions of your city within my game:

Yes, I am using some of your tools, on your 'computers,' to show you just how I will wreak havoc. As you can see above, I have modelled your city and your overreaching buildings. I shall walk your streets, enter your houses and steal your hearts and your life. Failing which, of course, I will simply blow everything up.

OK, it appears that my puppet cannot pass through this cubic structure in the centre. Not to worry, I shall eventually equip him with enough power to blow the damned thing out of the way. I do like the way it looks, though. From an angle, it looks as though it has great depth....

That is pretty...

Enough idle chatter. I have much work to do. I will be done with this in about five weeks' time.

Relish your remaining days, insects.

Death

Indeed.

For such is my name. I also go by the aliases Thanatos, Grim Reaper, Azrael, Yama and sometimes Keith.

I serve justice to people, regardless of their status, nationality, occupation, race, colour and age. I serve speedy justice to people who say "irregardless" instead of "regardless."

One of the things that annoys me the most about the modern age is the continued insistence of people upon living. 'twasn't so in days of old. Something or the other would come along and pop they would go. The Black Plague, wars lasting hundreds of years, random outbreaks of small pox, fires every now and then, unbelievably idiotic superstitions resulting in people being burned, it was lively. However, science and other bogus inventions of humanity have upset the balance of my world and impeded the progress of my work. I do not appreciate that.

I intend to correct it.

I shall soon descend amongst you and set things in order.

You have been warned.