And then almost immediately, I knew I had set myself up for an expansive something, deep in my chest, that is both clawed and obliterated.

I have come for my beating. My well-deserved gift. Nothing explosive, nothing cinematic, nothing more and nothing less. Par for the course. Perhaps a bit tired in the wrist and loose in the shoulder. Dispirited. Almost sorry. The slick of wet falls down to the concrete in this corner of an alley. One to the jaw and then one to the temple. I stagger and almost lose my footing. I can hear a sigh or two coming from somewhere in my blindspot. Resignation and repetition. I’m not the first one in this position. Before I can put my hands up, one to the back of the head and then another across the scalp. I fall on my side and land in the mud. Slipping all over myself, I get pushed and kicked down until all strength is gone from my elbows and knees. Sensing that all efforts to fight back had washed away, the sounds of plodding footsteps and disgruntled murmurs chitter amongst the muck and brick. Blinding yellow taking up all the real estate of my right eye pulses, it’s almost self-important. Mortar and pestle picture frames the night sky. Clouds streak against the dark. Pum-pa-papum pum-pa-papum. Muffled. In and out of sight. Heartbeat flood the ears. It’s all I got, boss. I can’t go toe to toe with these youngins. Not no more. I’m a lonely relic from a devoured and forgotten age. I’m in the club now. Skull and Bones. Those few who knew of the delicious juice from the berry. I am doomed to have this knowledge. I am doomed to never quench it again.

Forever chasing the dragon of F.E.A.R. and all it’s beauty. Something was not right with Extraction Point, something was different. The halls didn’t cater to the sensibilities of Golden Harvest or John Woo. Not a Shaw Brother in sight. There was action, yes, more action than you can stomach. The spirit knows better. It was mindless, brainless. No tension. No quickening of the heart. It was sterile. Safe. Played for cheap laughs. Heels dragging on sand. Just counting the minutes until it’s all over. I understand the pitiable looks my attackers had. This was the best of the lost generation. One more expansion pack and two games to go, I knew they were trying to save me.
Lord.


Holiday cracking like some crackers and crumpling to a bag of bones was funny.

So I keep pretty meticulous track of what games on my account I have and haven't played, independent from the playtime indicator, for Reasons, so I can say without a shadow of a doubt that I have indeed played this. I cannot tell you a single thing that occurs in it, with certainty that I'm not just thinking of Fear 1.

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