Monday, January 19, 2009

Daikatana Diaries: Part One



Note: on January 22, GameTap will start charging me to play John Romero’s pet abomination,
Daikatana. That they even offered Daikatana was baffling – I figured it was better off buried under the sands of time, a ruined monument to one man’s ridiculous ambition – and that they would ask money, even more so. Because I made a blood pact with Andrew while drunk on snake liquor (violation of said pact, I’m told, summons legions of Egyptian undead to chew out my innards), I now have three days to beat this game. Bear with me. Pray for me. And if need be, I trust you to kill me.

18 January 2009, 14:18 hrs: Men with hands like Christmas hams gesture and eject words from their unmoving mouths. The Quake engine was never meant for close-ups.

I’m in a marsh. Why am I in a marsh? This gun shoots green stuff, which barely works against the dozens of robot frogs chomping at my kneecaps. I doubt it could power-wash dogshit off a sidewalk.

Yes, frogs. Also, mosquitoes. Mosquitoes the size of tennis racquets. They hover up to
my face, execute AWFUL_BUZZING_NOISE.wav, and suck away, like, half my health. I die seven times before I reach the bridge.

Were I my ham-fisted (hah!) character, I would give up and go home. But he, like myself, is compelled by something supernatural.

I cross the bridge, approaching what I can only guess is a castle – it looks like a Hoboken general store, soot-stained and vaguely carcinogenic. The bridge blows up behind me. Of course it does. As I wait for the castle door to crash down under the foot of some 10 foot tall baddie (at this point, I welcome death like a lover), the sky above me fills with mosquitoes. In formation. Like dive bombers, they break ranks and approach my face, which they proceed to eat. My green blaster is useless against their mandibles. I fall. John Romero taunts me. I am powerless to retaliate – until, that is, I turn off his shitty game, fire up Google and type “Stevie Case” into the search window.

I savor the respite, however brief.