The First-Person Observer

Thailand, Southeast Asia — Millionaire archeologist and adventurer Lara Croft has died in an apparent suicide by drowning, lawyers for her estate revealed today.

Croft’s tragic death comes just as she was embarking on an expedition to locate Thor’s hammer and gain entrance to the Norse underworld. An eyewitness says it appears she took her own life, deliberately submerging herself beneath the waves off the Thailand coast after repeatedly trying, and failing, to scale a sheer cliff wall.

“I watched her trying to climb this ridiculously steep cliff, clinging from tiny handholds and leaping across chasms,” one bystander said. “She kept falling, though, all the way back down into the water where she started, and kept having to try again.”

After numerous failed attempts, the eyewitness says Croft, frustrated, appeared to give up.

“After her last fall, she just swam down and floated beneath the surface of the water. She did not appear to be in physical distress, and her yacht was anchored not far away.  She just deliberately floated down there until she ran out of air.”

“I’m completely shocked by this, but in a way, I can totally see why she did it,” the eyewitness continued.  “I was getting frustrated and annoyed just watching her trying to scale those cliffs. I can only imagine how irritating it was for her.”

Though the waters Croft perished in are known for large, dangerous sharks, it does not appear they contributed to her death.

“There were a few sharks present when she initially dove off her yacht, but she quickly swam after them and shot them to death,” the eyewitness said.

“They’re endangered, you know,” he added. “The sharks. Like a lot of the animals she pumps bullets into. I’m just saying.”

“I’ve been there, too, in that frame of mind,” said Link, an adventurer in Hyrule, upon hearing of Croft’s suicide.  “I’ve been so exasperated that I’ve wanted to drown myself. That water temple? Talk about frustrating. So many times I  just wanted to take off my Zora Tunic and put on my iron boots and let the water fill my lungs and be done with it.”

“When you get overwhelmed, and you think about drowning yourself, you just have to find a healthy outlet for your anger,” he continued. “I usually take out my frustrations by swinging my sword at my annoying fairy guide. That does the trick.”

“I just wish Lara had called me,” Link said. “Maybe I could have talked her out of it.”

Share This Story

World of Goo Corporation Headquarters — The World of Goo Corporation is being heavily criticized for what some are calling lackluster efforts to contain a massive Goo spill that is threatening the environment, and possibly even the internet.

Efforts to contain the Goo have had limited success, and many are questioning the methods being used by the WGC to collect the wayward Goo balls.

“The Corporation is doing little, if anything, to capture and contain the spilled Goo,” one expert said.  “Yes, it’s true, they have set up intake pipes in certain locations, and it is also true that the Goo balls themselves seem quite intent on reaching those pipes and being sucked into Goo storage containers.”

“What we’re seeing, however, is that the Corporation is placing their intake pipes at great distances from the Goo spills, making it a challenge for the Goo to be collected. In some instances, it initially seems impossible for the Goo to reach the pipes.”

“There was this one huge pit that I never thought the Goo would never be able to cross,” he added. “But they eventually figured it out. That Goo is pretty clever.”

Even when some Goo does manage to reach the pipes, however, there are still massive, sticky Goo bridges, towers, ladders, and other unstable, wobbly structures that are left behind. The environmental impact of the remaining, uncollected Goo is still unknown, and some wildlife sanctuaries, such as Fisty’s Bog, have been severely polluted. The large, gray toad the bog is named after appeared quite ill, possibly due to the massive bridge of Goo that now extends from its mouth.

The Goo spill, originally thought to be quite small, seems to be spreading faster and farther than initially estimated. Some witnesses have reported seeing Goo floating through the air attached to balloons, headed for distant lands, and recent reports indicate that the Goo may have even digitized and spilled into the internet, where it threatens to corrupt the entire Information Superhighway.

Environmental experts say there is no real way to completely prevent the spread of Goo at this point, short of traveling back in time.

“Unfortunately, at this late date, with the spread of Goo so profound, you’d have to pop a time bug the size of Delaware to travel that far back in time,” said one scientist. “And they just don’t grow that big.”

“It suppose could be worse,” another expert offered. “I mean, the Goo balls are really quite adorable.”

“If our planet is going to be smothered in a black, sticky substance, at least it’s darn cute.”

Share This Story

Shawnee County, Kansas — Animal rights activists gathered today to protest against millions of farmers, citing dangerously overcrowded farms and inhumane living conditions for livestock and other animals.

“These farmers are demonstrating an incredible degree of irresponsibility.” one protester said. “Their farms are incredibly overcrowded. They’ve got animals crammed into every square inch of available space. They’re packed in like sardines. It’s inhumane.”

“That dairy building is so crammed with cattle, one cow is actually sticking his head out of a second story window,” the protester added. “That poor cow doesn’t even have room to turn around in its pen. It’s disgusting and cruel.”

“Many of these animals aren’t even traditional livestock,” another protester pointed out. “Look, isn’t that a penguin? What the heck is a penguin doing on a farm with pigs and horses?”

“That farm over there even has a couple baby elephants. I’ve seen kangaroos, gila monsters, and even a few giant pandas, which are highly endangered. Is this a farm or a zoo?”

An overcrowded dairy

While some farmers keep their livestock segregated in separate pens, other farms appear to keep all their animals mixed together, a potentially dangerous situation for the creatures.

“I see all these animals standing around together,” a protester said. “Turkeys, ducks, pigs, reindeer, cats, sheep, goats… all in the same pen. There are even some turtles in there. That doesn’t seem safe. If these animals had any room to move, they could trample each other.”

In addition to crowded conditions, protesters are concerned these animals may not be tended to properly or given the attention they need.

“Most of these farmers only visit their farms once a day, when their crops are ready to be harvested. Then they quickly feed their animals, possibly pet them once, harvest their eggs, or in the case of the penguin, ice cubes, and they’re gone until the next day. It’s neglect, pure and simple. There’s no love on these farms, no concern for the well-being of these creatures. It’s all about profit.”

“When a horse gives birth, it never even gets to care for its foal,” another protester said. “The farmer just lets his friends know there’s a baby horse available, and someone snaps it up. They call it adoption. I call it irresponsible.”

“These farmers need to put the well-being of their animals above their desire for profit.”

“This is a farm,” she added. “This isn’t a game.”

Share This Story

Rogue Encampment, Khanduras — Thousands have been slain only to rise as soulless undead creatures chained in servitude to the Master of Evil, Lord Diablo, who has returned amidst a fiery inferno of terror and death.

Meanwhile, local shops are reporting a sudden boost in sales.

As the refugees within the small Rogue Encampment gradually fell victim to horrid enchantments that stole minds and corrupted hearts, shops have remained open and stocks soared on the news that local hero Blood Raven had been twisted into a horrible lich-like simulacrum of her former self.

“All this death and destruction,” said local merchant Gheed as he took shelter beside his wagon. “It’s just horrible, truly horrible.”

“Nah,” he said, sifting through crates full of magic swords and armor. “I’m making a fortune.”

After a brief exchange with a noble paladin, Gheed accepted several thousand coins in exchange for a “grab bag” that ultimately contained a pair of boots worth half that amount, and no better than those the hero already owned.

“That’s why I have a strict no-return policy,” said Gheed as the holy warrior wandered off to desecrate tombs at the nearby graveyard in search of gold.

Stragglers and survivors poured into the camp throughout the day, most with nothing but the clothes on their back and a scant few items they could grab as they desperately fled the nightmarish apocalypse that slowly spread across the land, stretching its dark tendrils further east, black clouds of undeath consuming all they touched.

Local blacksmith Charsi was happy to sell them all the armor they could pay for.

“Come back if you need anything,” she said, cheerfully whistling and counting coins as a visiting necromancer grimly wandered over a nearby bridge towards a cave, emaciated body wreathed in the only armor he could afford: a pair of minimally-enchanted leather gloves.

He would not be seen again.

Akara, High Priestess of the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye and head of the Rogue Camp, expressed concern that the merchants who remained open during the tragedy were simply preying on the misfortune of others.

“I’ve done my best to stay clear of Gheed,” she said, pausing to sell healing potions and a cherry red tome to a horribly wounded Druid. “And Warriv? His only real concern is to reach the eastern trading ports with his caravan.”

“I’m afraid I can only offer but poor shelter within these rickety walls,” she added.

“Also, I can offer a selection of staffs and wands, all at great prices. Please, take your time.”

Story reported by Observer contributor Michael Fiegel.

Share This Story

Washington, D.C. — As word spreads of the adventures of quirky, charming, non-violent adventurers using puzzle-solving and exploration to cope with their problems, parents are growing more and more concerned that today’s children are learning that non-violence is an option.

“Look at our cities today,” one horrified parent said during a protest at the nation’s capitol. “Full of gun-toting thugs, monsters, zombies, aliens, and super-villains. Meanwhile, my teenage son was going on and on about some charming little bird-man he heard about, who lived in a peaceful realm where he ate blueberries and collected over-sized pencils and apples.”

“I checked out this blueberry-filled garden he was telling me about,” she continued. “It was serene, peaceful, with gentle piano music playing in the background. Piano music? How is my child going to learn to lock and load or run and gun, listening to anything other than pulse-pounding, teeth-rattling electronica?”

She went on to express her fears that the lessons in non-violence from these quirky, gentle adventurers will leave children vulnerable in a harsh, unforgiving world full of explosions and monsters.

“He’s going to be woefully unprepared for the realities of our violent world,” she said, as a burning helicopter slammed into a building behind her and several cars hurtled by, spitting gunfire. “A crowd of gangsters will ambush him in an alley, or zombie hordes will swarm all over him, and all he’ll know how to do is make a tower out of giant dice and wedges of cheese.”

“It’s fine for adults to occasionally put down their machine guns and flamethrowers and do a little puzzle-solving,” said Tom Jackson, a lawyer for the activist group Violence Alliance, which promotes teaching children to solve their problems with hand grenades and laser weapons. “But kids are so impressionable. They may think that solving puzzles or exploring quirky, artistic landscapes is fun and worthwhile. It’s disgusting. These environments are just puzzle-simulators. They’re teaching our children it’s better to think than to shoot.”

Another concerned parent spoke of his son, who had heard about a robot named Josef living in the city of Machinarium.

Is this robot teaching our children not to kill?

“I guess this robot carefully and cleverly disguised himself as security bot in order to bypass a checkpoint,” the parent explained, “by putting a traffic cone on his head and topping it off with a light-bulb. That’s a terrible lesson for our children, when simply shooting the security bot with a sniper rifle or taking him out with a pulse grenade would have done the trick in far less time.”

The child, meanwhile, wants to visit Machinarium someday to solve puzzles of his own.

“Not gonna happen,” said the boy’s father. “No son of mine is going to wind up wearing a traffic cone on his head on some delightfully quirky and charming environment.  I’m enrolling him in Bullworth Academy in New England, and then he’s enlisting in the Space Marines.”

“You think a traffic cone is gonna impress the Cacodemons and Hellknights?  Huh?” he yelled at his son, who was quietly tying a length of string to a magnet in an effort to fish a metallic object out of a puddle.

“See? See what they’re teaching him?” the father said, dragging his son away by the arm. “After a couple tours on Phobos, he’s gonna learn that non-violence is not the answer.”

Share This Story

Ferelden, Thedas — During a violent, murderous raid on a small farming community in Ferelden, a demonic member of the invading Darkspawn army took a break from dismembering villagers to reflect on his future job prospects.

“Right now, things are great, job-wise,” the demonic Hurlock warrior said, feasting on the steaming entrails of a slaughtered peasant child. “There are plenty of humans, dwarves, and elves to kill. The job market for marauding demons is strong. I just worry about what comes next, after we’ve killed them all.”

“I see two possibilities for us,” the Hurlock said. “A heroic band of Grey Wardens will slay us, freeing the land from our murderous reign of terror. Or, the Darkspawn will triumph, wiping out all the other races in the world. Honestly, it’s the second scenario that really worries me.”

“I feel like we’re wholly unprepared for victory,” he continued, thoughtfully licking the blood of a freshly killed peasant woman off his blackened claws. “Once the war is over, there will be a whole new series of challenges for the Darkspawn. Repairing the infrastructure, for instance. Rebuilding castles. Fixing roads and bridges. Creating a working economy. What do marauding demons with a thirst for living flesh know about any of that?”

“I can devour human children,” he added, “But I don’t know the first thing about building schools for our little Genlocks.”

The Hurlock is not the only one worried about future job prospects. Whether they come from the shadowy abyss of a blood-red netherworld, through an interdimensional portal inadvertently opened by foolhardy scientists, or are simply the living constructs of evil wizards, employment prospects for murderous creatures has always seemed healthy. Many marauders, however, are now questioning just how strong that job market really is in the long term.

“Find the Ring, kill everyone else,” said one Tarkrip Skirmisher stationed on the North Downs of Middle-Earth. “That’s pretty much all the boss tells me. There’s no mention of what happens afterward, when the Ring is found and everyone is dead. What will I do for work then? Open a pottery shop? Become a tailor? My hands were made for strangling the life out of halflings, not stitching up torn pantaloons. It’ll be straight to the unemployment line for me.”

The Hurlock demon echos the Orc’s worries. “I was killing these farmers earlier today,” he said. “I tore out their innards, sucked marrow from their bones, and so forth. When I was done, I looked at their farm and thought, wow, this looks kind of complicated. He’s got an irrigation system here I couldn’t even begin to figure out, and I don’t know the first thing about how and when to harvest crops. Burning crops, I got a handle on that, but not harvesting them.”

“Even if I get promoted to Hurlock Emissary, what spells could I learn? Death Magic? Drain Life? Those are great for killing innocents. Not so great for holding down a job once all the innocents are dead. We’re going to need plumbers and craftsmen and accountants to function as a society. I don’t know how to do any of that stuff.”

He displayed his resume, which was etched into a ragged strip of human skin. Under skills, it just read KILLING, MURDERING, DEATH-BRINGING, BONE-CRUSHING, SOUL-RENDING, LIGHT FILING.”

“I made up the last one,” the Hurlock admitted. “Everyone lies on their resume a little. But to be perfectly honest, I don’t know the first thing about filing. I don’t even know what a file is. Is it something you kill?”

He thoughtfully chewed through the tender neck of a struggling, middle-aged blacksmith. “Look,” he said between bites. “I’m worried for my future. I just want to stay relevant.”

Share This Story