My dad had the patience of a saint. He never once yelled at me over that grand plan to pull several characters out of a zombie apocalypse at once. He did say that he really wished I’d run the idea by him before trying it out. He totally agreed that I’d done a good job planning it all out. But he could have brought up an issue or two if he’d been made aware of it. Things I hadn’t thought of. And he said it was my responsibility to make amends. I agreed with him. I had failed to fully appreciate the ramifications of my actions and other people paid the price. Or people that might be people at least. Sometime. Either way, I fully recognized my responsibility and promised to make things as right as possible.
My grand plan worked like a charm. Until it didn’t. Did you know that mortal peril can cause psychological trauma in those who survive it? I had lived the kinda life where that kind of thing didn’t happen much, so… I hadn’t really internalized that bit. Long story short, I pulled a bunch of survivors out of a zombie apocalypse and did not expect them to be traumatized by the experiences that I had personally rescued them from. Because that was a game and despite my very long experience with gaming, I did not fully appreciate just how real the game was. Especially to those who lived it from the inside. Did you know that AIs need therapists? I didn’t. But I sure did after that.
I enacted my grand plan to save several characters from a game at once. I followed the script. I killed a LOT of zombies. Chain guns. Rocket launchers. Pistols. Knives. You name it. I was a whirling dervish of destruction. If the zombies could have felt fear, I would have sent them screaming in panic. I saved one character after another from mortal peril, we killed the bosses from about ten different games and movies, and we all got back to the chopper. We flew out of trash panda city in time to see the bomb go off from a safe distance. And through the magic of holofields and hardlight I flew off to land the chopper on my front lawn in front of my lake where everybody was totally safe. Mission accomplished. I was a big damn hero.
The particular franchise I wanted to pull the characters out of is based around a fictional outbreak of a zombie virus in a fictional Midwestern American city. Most of the characters in the games and other material lived in or around that city at some time, and many happened to be in the city during the outbreak. My plan was simple. I had modded the game so there was a path I could take as a custom character where I could interact with all of the characters I wanted to pull out. All I had to do was follow the script I had written out, kill a LOT of zombies, save everybody from the zombies, get everybody to the chopper, and get out of town before the government bombed the city to wipe out the infection. Easy peasy. I had this in the bag. Yeah. Not so much.
Common sense should tell you that a zombie horror franchise may not be the best source material if you want stable, well-adjusted, calm, fully-functional people. I was a teenage young man who did not always have the best relationship with my common sense. So I enacted my grand plan to pull several characters out of a game at once. Now I had been careful. I had done my due diligence. I had long since picked the characters I was taking out, and me and Red had spent weeks modeling their character AIs in and out of the game. We had rock solid characters with full life experiences and good heads on their shoulders. We fully tested them both in all environments. We had this. Yeah. Not so much as we thought.
Forge of War on Amazon
Angel Flight on Amazon
Angel Strike on Amazon
Angel War on Amazon
Wolfenheim Rising on Amazon
Wolfenheim Emergent on Amazon