The 27th of September promises to be a super ordinary day, especially for Counter-Strike fans. So I thought I’d use the day for some urbex adventures, crossing off a few oddities from my bucket list, and maybe just a bit of gaming. Let me share with you what I had in mind.
You know, folks, I’m a bit of a daredevil myself. I’m fifty years too late to pull a Philippe Petit, whose tightrope walk across the Twin Towers mesmerized the world, but I can do the next best thing and use a rubber cord to jump off a building site and boioioioing my way back to the top. If it doesn’t work out, I can always just hide in the nearest Porta-Potty out of embarrassment.
Have you read the reviews on Booking.com???? Five stars, incredible amenities, acceptable amounts of dust, and only the occasional explosion. Besides, there’s an ancient bath house and an obelisk exhibition nearby. The perfect way to spend a holiday. I’ll just have to make sure not to climb any statues.
Don’t you get the urge sometimes to run after a helpless little clucking animal on the street and butcher it with the nearest instrument you can find? My psychiatrist says there are now meds for that. Still, I can sense it in the stars that I will have to run down the narrow alleyways of the town all the way to the carabinieri and beyond. It’s also a wonderful opportunity to sample Andrea Garibaldi’s world-famous biscotti, hopefully with the chicken blood still dripping from my hands.
I mean, I don’t know why people use them to light an archeological dig site. Surely, we’ve got the technology in 2023 to get some actual lights in there, but, you know, I’ll do my best to blend in.
I met up with four impressively bearded gentlemen just a couple of days ago who also seemed to really enjoy Oppenheimer. Just like me, they also became keenly interested in the inner workings of nuclear power, and we will be making a visit to the nearest power plant soon. Hopefully, the trip will be illuminating, and our insights explosive.
There’s a broken-down van near my flat, with a bench nearby. I always thought it was the perfect place to meditate and ponder the greatest questions of the universe. Nothing happens there anyway! But if I end up getting bored, there’s a neat little palace a few blocks away that I could visit. It’s been recently renovated, and I heard great things about its interior décor.
Come on, why would it be so close to the playground if you weren’t intended to commit ten counts of tiny manslaughter? (That’s what I will plead, at least.) (My psychiatrist says there are now meds for that.)
Have you seen the place lately? It’s become such an eyesore, and all the gooses honking around makes it impossible to sleep. It’s a joke compared to Hotel Farah. At least I can justify the expense because I need some dental work done. What’s worse, a root canal without anaesthetic or staying in the range of a block of C4? Asking for a friend.
Look, my duties never stop. In the pursuit of PROFIT$!!!, there always seems to be a new ad campaign to write, 52375 new tasks to complete. Besides, the Microsoft Office suite of software always calls with its siren songs and frozen stairs and bandaged hostages and crappy drink dispensers and Clippy, the monster from my nightmares.
My pastor said that’s where I will end up if I keep playing these God-forsaken video games.
I mean, I already racked up a couple dozen games as one of the late-stage beta invitees, but release day is always something special. Surely we’re not getting jebaited, right? Please. That would be unthinkable.
(Disclaimer: It may not be “next” Wednesday everywhere by the time this article releases. Blame Greenwich Mean Time. Or Valve Time.)