En Route to 16-bit Heaven!

When sifting through a few thousand paper documents, you begin to see who is loosely responsible for what, where the hierarchy begins and ends, who quit, who should’ve quit, who was sacked, who sucked, who somehow survived and so on and so forth.

Noticeably absent from most of the documents is Marty Shaw. We know he dropped out of college without telling his folks just so he could play video games for the summer, but not much else. He did attend some meetings in May but his only contribution was nodding his head while smoking a joint.

On account of his youthful looks, we get the impression that after a month of hanging around like a stubbon winnet (dingleberry if you’re American), people forgot Marty was an employee and had begun to see him as the team mascot. Bored shitless, he eventually snuck off to the first floor. Some employees forgot all about him while others would occasionally visit him in his new bachelor pad and join in playing video games while getting heavily stoned. But then they’d leave and forget all about him for a few days.

CEO Cassidy had long forgotten Marty’s existence despite praising Marty in his job interview because he told them he would quit college for this. However, when their paths crossed sometime in early June, Marty was bashing away at a port of Double Dragon while Cassidy was holding a baseball bat and a bucket.

When Cassidy saw Marty sitting on the couch in his underpants, shouting at the tiny TV, he fell backwards and yelped like a cat wanting snacks.

“What the fuck are you doing here, kid?” Lawrence shrieked. “Those pricks at the management company promised me the rest of the office would be empty owed to numerous fire hazards.” Before Marty could talk, Cassidy went on: “I suppose if you’re a solo act we can overlook it. What is it you do up here exactly?”

Marty began to sweat, thinking his game was up. “Erm, well sir, I actually work for you.”

“You work for me?!”

“Well, probably not anymore.”

“Did I already fire you or something?”

“Not quite.”

“So you’re just chilling up here on your lonesome, getting away from the soundtrack of useless office nerds?”

“That’s about right, sir.”

“I would be doing the same. But father to son:  is anybody treating you like a discounted Cabbage Patch doll down there? Because if they are, dude, you let me know and I’ll give them a chainsaw lobotomy. I can tell by your baby face you’re here on work experience, right? Listen, it doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business. I only came up here because I thought I could hear massive rats scratching around. You just carry on as if I’m not here, okay?” Cassidy put his hand inside his pocket, pulled out a small cutting of a folded up newspaper and tossed it to Marty. “Cali cheesecake. Go light at first because this shit causes blindness. I’ll be gone before you can ask me to call a doctor. And don’t tell anybody about the fire hazards otherwise I’ll ram that controller down your throat and the console up your ass, and then I’ll use an industrial stapler to pin those cartridges across your titties as if they’re plates of armour.”

“I won’t make a peep.”

And this was the second time they’d met; the first being the job interview. But it’s the third time we’re going to turn to.

The Most Important Email Ever Sent in Human History

Before Dmitry had snapped and disappeared, he had left some belongings hanging around his desk. Some of these we have already covered here. Long story short, and as promised, our friend Roger sent us another email at the weekend with several attachments.

We downloaded the files and we were blown away by the above posters. We don’t know for definite who created them, but we think it was Dmitry because that guy was lightyears ahead of the competition and seemed to knock out quality stuff a hundred times faster than a burger flipper on adderall.

And then we noticed a video file named NN Trailer and we could not fucking believe it! We proceeded to watch it about twenty times back to back. On the last play through something clicked in my head. I remember skipping over some documents at the beginning of this project which mentioned something about a vudeo game trailer.

I found the documents and read through them again. The following is my honest interpretation of how this trailer came about.

“I’ll See You in Hell, Fellow Button Mashers!”

Around late August, it was panic stations at Give Me Head HQ. But not for Marty who had continued to squat on the frst floor, ignoring the wider world while smoking gourmet weed imported from the finest gardens of Mexico and playing video games until he’d crash out for days at a time. In short he was thoroughly enjoying most people’s idea of heaven.

But not only was the Cyberia project failing: after years of deregulation the banking system was on its knees, a crack epidemic was tearing apart entire cities with record homicide and incarceration rates, the Cold War was still fuelling anxieties about human extinction. Worse still Alan Napier who played Batman’s butler had tragically died earlier in the year. All this yet Marty may as well have been living on a desert island on because the only news he was keeping up on was from old editions of Electronic Games magazine which he’d brought with him.

So when Cassidy and Ryba pushed through the door shouting his name, it was like a sledgehammer to the bollocks. Marty shifted straight into panic mode, believing that it must’ve been an office fire. He unplugged his Sega Genesis and wrapped his shirt around it. He then began to dance around, remembering all of his video games that he couldn’t live without. He put the Genesis down again and tried to slip video game cartridges into his pockets, but they were too big. His next great idea was to bite down on two cartridges while trying to carry several more under his armpits. However, when he attempted to pick up the Genesis again, he dropped everything and began to sob.

“Just do the right thing and fucking kill me. I can’t go on without her!”

“Don’t be so pathetic,” Cassidy said. “I still have enough money to buy you a big tittie escort. And believe me; a night with a big tittie escort is the best way to get over any residual heartache.”

“What do you mean?”

Cassidy looked confused. “You’re sobbing over some breakup at a time when we really need your help.”

“I’m not, I’m… there’s no fire is there?”

“I’ll fucking fire you and then throw you into a fire if you don’t get your shit together immediately.”

“There’s no fire,” Ryba said from somewhere in the background.

“Am I trapped in an episode of The Twilight Zone here?” Cassidy shouted.

“Look, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,” Marty said as he began to plug his Genesis in while a beaming smile lit up his face. “Tell me again what’s happening.”

“We have a video game trailer and we need you to sex it up for us,” Ryba said.

“You do?”

“We’re not asking you to get your cock out or anything,” Cassidy said. “But you’re the only person left who knows a single thing about video games.”

“What video game is it exactly? Is it based on Cyberia? Because that would be awesome.”

“It is based on Cyberia,” Ryba clarified

“So you guys’ve been making a video game without telling me?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Cassidy said. “You’re the only person in the team who gets a chubby over Princess Peach.”

“That’s super awesome!” Marty said. “Can I test play the game first?”

Cassidy turned to Ryba and Ryba said, “It’s still going through the licensing process so we’re focusing on marketing right now.”

“And somebody reminded me that you exist,” Cassidy said. “So we thought it was only right to get you involved.”

“Oh, man, I really appreciate that.”

“You’ve worked harder than anyone at Give Me Head. You deserve this, Marty. Truly.”

“Can I still get a big tittie escort?”

[It’s worth noting here that other than what Dmitry had left behind there was no Neon Nights video game. The plan was to pretend there was a game by sending the trailer off to different companies hoping that one of them would buy it. They’d then worry about the next step if they ever got there.]

“24 Carrots of Gold!”

Half an hour later the tree amigos joined Bruce Brooks in a small office room. Bruce was sitting next to an analogue mixing console and some big tapes. He was looking very pleased with himself.

“I’ve finally managed to get it working again, boss,” Bruce said. “Whoever spilt their beer should be tortured with nipple clamps and ass hooks. This beauty costs a fortune.”

“Well, that sounds like fun to me,” Cassidy said. “But let’s crack the fuck on because we need to start sending this out first thing tomorrow.”

“Okay, okay,” Bruce said. He then turned to Marty. “You ever done this before, Marty?”

“Nope, never.”

“It’s real easy. All you have to do is put these headphones on and talk into this microphone which we will now refer to as the mic.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it. Just keep a short distance  from the microphone, I mean mic, because French kissing electrical equipment can cause some nasty feedback. “

“Sounds easy enough,” Marty said as he turned to Cassidy. “So where’s the script?”

*It doesn’t exist. Scripts are for jerks, Marty. We want you to let rip and tell the world how Neon Nights is the best video game of all time–now and forever. How it’s got bigger explosions than any other game, that it’s better than the latest Rambo movie. Like, if you play this game today, your dick will grow several inches and you’ll be swimming in pussy forevermore. However, if you don’t play this game then you’ll get genital warts, your dick will shrivel to nothing and you’ll not even be able to wank off anymore; let alone lose your virginity, you spotty fucking twerps!”

“Sounds like a lot,” Marty said.

“Relax, man. You’re a gaming legend.”

“I just think that a script might–“

“Are you trying to tell me that you can’t fucking do this simple task, Marty? After all I’ve done for you and how little you’ve done for me! All that mentoring, the laughs we had together?”

“I’ll do it,” Marty said, trying to avoid a brutal bollocking. “Exactly as you like, I’ll fucking do it.”

“Okay then,” Bruce said. “Step up to the plate, or mic as we now refer to it,. Or plate. Whichever works best for you.”

Marty does as he’s told, slipping the headphones on as Cassidy mumbles to himself.

“Now all you need to do,’ Bruce said. ‘Is watch the trailer on this screen while getting overly excited about what you’re seeing.”

“Just talk like somebody with huge balls,” Cassidy said with two thumbs up. “The biggest in America. They’re so big you have to carry them around in a wheelbarrow. “

“Gotcha.”

Bruce put his index finger to his lips, signalling for everyone to hush. He then clicked some buttons and looked at his watch for a few seconds. He then held up his fist to count five and…

“So do I go on the count of three or…”

“Lord save me from this fucking imbecile!” Cassidy yelled before kicking a plastic bin over.

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Nobody’s done anything before, Marty! We’re all doing everything for the first time in one take! Do you really think Bruce has ever fingered whatever this fucking machine is?”

“I have actually,” Bruce said. “Well not quite this machine and not in a professional capacity. I mean I used to fix radios many years ago. Admittedly I only lasted six months before they caught me stealing. But I’m a changed man now.”

“I can’t go on like this,” Cassidy said. “Take two right fucking now!”

“We go on five,” Bruce said.

Bruce then went through the same procedure with his precise finger movements until he’d counted five, one of his podgy fingers disappearing with every second.

Marty tried his best but it sounded like this:

“Welcome to Cyberia, folks! Well I mean the video game which is actually better than the series. I can’t remember what it’s called but…”

“What the fuck is this?” Cassidy yelled. “It’s better than the TV show but I can’t even remember the name of it?! You might as well have shit your panties and puked up simultaneously.”

“Come on,” Bruce said. “Give the kid a break.”

“I’ll break his fucking jaw!” Cassidy turned to Marty. “Right now your whole existence is like a fucking handshake that went on for too long.  All we need is two minutes of funky audio. Just two fucking minutes!”

“Okay, okay. I’m just warming up. Does anyone have sone weed? I think weed might help this situation.”

“Fuck weed,” Cassidy said as he pulled a big baggie of Silicon’s finest out of his breast pocket. “Have you ever rolled in snow?”

“I don’t think it’s for me. I’m a natural stoner, man. I like to eat popcorn, stare at the stars and think very deeply about the possibility that there’s a replica of me but with superhero powers.”

Nobody was listening and Cassidy had already snorted a line and was now rubbing his gums. “So all I heard is that you don’t like coke because you’ve never done it. That makes perfect sense.”

“I’ll take a line,” Bruce said.

“Sure thing, I’ve already cooked up everyone’s supper and it’s going cold. And, yes, Ryba, I’ve left you out again.”

“Appreciate it,” Ryba said with a yawn.

Cassidy hands Bruce a rolled up bank note.

“Amazing grace,” Bruce said before snorting a line. “Just wow! If you want to know what it’s like to be a superhero, Marty, come get some supper.”

Cassidy looked directly at Marty as he sniffed more cocaine off a house key. “Your turn, kid.”

Reluctantly Marty stepped up to the desk and looked down at several lines. Cassidy past him the bank note. He hit autopilot, bent over and accidentally snorted two lines because his aim was crappy.

When he stood up, Marty’s eyes were closed ahd he was smiling wildly. He held his arms out as if he was embracing God. After a moment he opened his eyes.

“Where have I been al these years?” he shouted as he started to do tai chi movements. “I’m the fucking lordship of gaming! I have the best run ever on Gauntlet! And I do have superpowers, Bruce. It’s all in my thumbs! I could be the best player of every single game by the end of the year!” Marty looked over to Cassidy. “Pretty please can I have some more?”

“Of course you can. After we’ve wrapped up here.”

“Fuck yeah!” Marty said as he began to reposition the microphone, his mouth chewing invisible gum and his pin pricked eyes dancing all over.

“And, Marty…”

“Yeah?”

“If you do this in one take then I’ll order you a big tittie escort.”

And this is how the trailer came about. Mary nailed it in one take and his drug of choice shifted to cocaine in a heartbeat.

The moral of the story is that cocaine in 1988 must’ve been some good shit.

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