Article by plume: World War 64
In my last post I do believe I detailed the
magical properties of 'Gamebase' for the Commodore 64, and how it
allowed me to sample the binary euphoria of 22500 games (and
counting) known to have been produced for the electronic dream
machine. (Thats the 'C64' Geo, not the 'Spaztrum'.) Using your
mind-brains, remember that number: '22500'. Then, read
this ebay listing bought to my attention by the lovely 'Lemon 64'
community:
The following is an account of the actions
I followed upon discovery of this item. Some animals were (probably)
harmed.
(Imagine the world goes a bit wobbly, as if entering a
dream. Just like 'Rent-a-ghost'. But without that fucking WITCH-LORD
'Timothy Claypole'.)
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Little known
fact: At the moment this photo was taken, Timothy was holding
back a particularly forceful spirit. Timothy later swears its
phantom penis didn't enter his mouth. The picture tells a
different story.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My first step
in decyphering this mysterious ebay listing was to employ the
remaining survivors of Britains WWII 'Bletchly Park' encryption
facility, in the hope that they could provide any insight into the
scrawlings presented before me. My initial thought was to offer a 99p
'Buy Now!' to the seller on an original 'Babbage Difference
Engine', circa 1800's but to no avail.
Anyway...the old girls
at Bletchly Park were delighted at the opportunity to solve anything
other than 'Giant Sudoku' in the 'Mail on Sunday' so they agreed to
the task at hand, regardless of what I offered the seller or,
themselves.
(Turns out you can bribe post-war pensioners with
trolley tokens wrapped in tin-foil with the word "Munny"
written on them. Old twats.)
(Another wobbly dream bit
below...)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
plume and the
Bletchly girls are sat in what appears to be a sodden WWII shelter.
World weary school desks replete with inkwells, are their workspace.
Wooden stools replete with...well nothing really, just wood; are
their...stools. They are surrounded by makeshift, wire-spewing
radiography equipment. The incessant tap of morse-code in the
background creates a sense of urgent urgency. urgently.
As
plume (the girls) struggled through the meandering text contained
within the ebay listing, the Bletchly girls, mentally exausted,
finally arrived at their (plume's) ultimate goal: The tertiary,
secondary and primary translation combined! It was akin to
decyphering the actual 'Rosseta Stone'! (Not related to
the shitty C64 conversion of 'Double Dragon 3: the Rosseta Stone' ™
which I hope to review at the end of this article, but the 'real
life' ™ 1 hyroglyphic, 1 ancient Greek and 1 Demotic greek
transcryption 'real-life' ™ conversion.)
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Is that what
the fortune teller told them?? 'Push fire button'?? I hope it
immediately set them on fire.
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...But wait...
The hardworking Bletchly
girls had compiled their (plume's) report.
Bletchly girl
#1: "I'm sorry plume, I simply cannot...I...I'm..."
She
places the second and index fingers of her hands to both temples,
kneading, in an attempt to waylay the encumberence of
thought.
plume: "It's OK...I understand that the
4000 games detailed in that ebay sale is nowhere near to the 22500+
games detailed in 'Gamebase', and the mere thought of that disk-box
in the accompanying image containing every C64 game ever created, has
just ushered in a little bit of bile from my trachea in to my
beautifully formed mouth."
The aging bletchly girls
probably all agreed in their minds that I had a beautifully formed
mouth.
plume: "THIS IS UTTER
BOULDERDASH!"
(Unexpectedly, plume's clenched fist, bound
with the rage of 1000 drunken puma's driving tanks, gently tapped at
the wooden desk. He didn't want to get a splinter from the nasty and
probably, spikey wood.)
"...You may stop your plight
girls. To end this, I am thinking about sending a question to the the
seller. In question."
Bletchly girl #2: "Please
do!"
Bletchly girl #3: "Yes! Please do! for
Bletchly girl #2 and I, haven't had a slight to do since we
re-programmed 'Colossus'!"
Bletchly girl #2 throws
her punch cards into the air in triumphant triumph. It's as if the
triumph had made her TURBO triumphant.
Bletchly girl #1:
"Wait, what? Did you say 'you've had nothing to do?' Have I been
doing all the sodding work here? You bloody cows..."
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Me (out of
shot) and the hard working Bletchly girls. Just before bloody
Dinner arrived. Probably.
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Bletchy girl#1's caustic reprimand was rudely
interrupted by Dinner.
Dinner, the butler, had entered the
room by the rear entrance and immediately apologised for his
Interruption.
Dinner the Butler: "I do apologise
for my Interruption, he has a tendancy to bark loudly at the sight of
punch cards being thrown triumphantly into the air."
Interruption
the dog: "WOOF!"
plume: "Where did
you come from? Since when did we have a fucking butler? (He then
gestured toward the hard-working Bletchly girls.) I'm (they're)
trying to decypher the most magical ebay listing presented to the
human race since Lance Burton tried to sell himself on ebay as Paul
Daniels, hoping that Debbie McGee would buy him, and you are offering
us food? Actually, are you offering food? Because you
haven't yet."
Dinner the Butler: "Again, my
apologies. Sir, Madams...Food has arrived.
Food McLood, the
boy waiter, arrived by means of throwing stink-bomb capsuals onto the
cracked bathstone-tiled floor of the bomb shelter, thinking they
would produce a curtain of smoke from which he could mysteriously
emerge from. They didn't. What they did produce was a pungent,
sulphuric, shit of a stench.
Food looked decidedly downtrodden
and was sick several times in quick succesion while we all watched
uncomfortably, before proudly announcing that "Food is Here!"
Twice.
Food McLood: "Food is here! And Food is
here!"
The boy-waiter continued to present himself, and
then actual food. It consisted of two massive silver gastronoms, one
filled with the most elegantly spiced Balti ever concieved, and the
other with rice so fragrant, that even the most majestic of roses
wilted before it. (Both the flower and the selection of cheap
Cadburys chocolates.)
Bletchly girl#3: "I aint'
eatin' any of that foreign shit."
plume: "Hang
on, shouldnt you be talking like an upstanding 1940's flower of the
war?"
Bletchly girl#2: "Well yes, but...NO.
You employed us unto this ridiculous article, and to be perfectly
honest, none of us know what a "Condom Sexty Force computer"
actually IS"
Bletchly girl#1:
"Where's my munny?"
plume: "God-dammit! I
employed you with the understanding that this...this "ebay
listing" could be 'completly' decyphered. We have the chance to
offer future generations an alternative path. A way of seperating the
wheat from the chaff. A way out."
Bletchly
girl#3 firmly places her left hand onto plume's shoulder in an
assuring manner. It had to be her left hand, as her right was
stuffing delicious Balti into her gaping mouth-hole.
Bletchly
girl#3: "This muck actually tastes quite peachy. Now get on
with the 'Double Drag-act 3' review, you stinking jackanape. "IT'S
ONLY A FUCKING GAME."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BOOOM!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The residual dust from the Axis bombing run
gradually subsides outside of the Bletchly encrytption shelter.
Eventually, all who were contained within the safe-haven, emerge into
the wasteland. 'What they saw has only now, been
documented...'
*Geo slowly slips the mask of Bletchly
girl#3 off his magnificantly toned face and turns to face plume in
the wasteland of War-torn Britain. Bomb-licked houses and plumes of
kicked-up, brick-red dust surround them. Geo is dramatically
back-curtained by grey smoke, ringing with the cries of the
wounded*
Geo: "REMEMBER
THIS?..."
(He holds up a tape of 'Double Dragon 3' for the Commodore 64, almost
crushing it in his bear-like fist, for Geo has fists like bears and
speaks in a frighteningly powerful voice, that even Gods
fear.)
plume: "Ummmm, yes mate,
unfortunately..."
Geo: "I KNOW YOU DO.
IT'S SHIT. DO THE FUCKING REVIEW."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Double
Dragon 3 Review
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Exactly. |