Half-Life Novelization Attempt Chapter 1
Giorgio Poli
CHAPTER HAS THIS
NOTE AND MY PERSONAL INFORMATION. IF YOU HAVEN'T RECEIVED ALL CHAPTERS,
PLEASE
CONSULT http://blackmesa.eon.dk/blackesthole AND DOWNLOAD THE PDF VERSION,
WHICH IS
MUCH BETTER - AS I AM PUBLISHING FOR ADVERTISING ONLY (yes, I know the
disclaimer
makes no sense in this version) ****
Personal info:
Author: Francesco "Warzone" Poli
bp...@tin.it
Will be a regular on www.3DActionPlanet.com (as soon as it opens...)
Half-Life
by Francesco Poli
"For richer or for poorer, my faith in what I was doing, never faltered, was
never
tainted with visions of failure and I am, committed, more than ever, to
follow my
dreams."
This novel is dedicated to Derek Kevin Smart, See you among the stars...
00. INTRO TO HALF-LIFE
Welcome to my first real full-length novel! First of all, thank you for
downloading and taking
time to read through this - I hope you won't regret a minute of that!
Let's get myself introduced, then: my name is Francesco Poli, nickname
'Warzone' and I'm a
19-years old Italian boy about to graduate in Electronics and
Telecommunications. There's not
much else to say than that, really. I play videogames, read the odd book and
surf the 'net regu-
larly.
But, as you must have guessed, I love to write! Sci-fi, fantasy, original,
based on something or
just plainly an opinion: I give myself no restrictions at all (well, none
apart trying not to be
coarse or boring - but that would be the least you'd expect).
Although this is my first full-fledged novel, it's not the only thing I've
written so far; there are
four articles of mine at Grape's Thoughts
(http://grapesthoughts.profuse.net) and one, brief, sto-
ry at Caleb's Crypt (http://www.planetblood.com/crypt) - be warned that
knowledge of the sto-
ryline of the games Blood and Blood 2 by Monolith is a requirement to
actually understand the
story.
And I won't stop at that. What I'll do after everything on this will have
been said and done is
impossible to foresee, although an original novel by me is the most probable
choice. One thing's
for sure - I may not be doing anything more for Grape's Thoughts, although
the reason can't be
disclosed now. Keep monitoring both the Grape's Thoughts and any site of the
GameSpy Net-
work...
HOW DID THIS START?
Well, I just wanted to show myself, more than anybody else, that I can be a
somewhat decent
writer. I had already written a couple of articles for Grape when I began
this story; but then I
didn't care if it was going to be published or not, I just wanted to write
because... Well, because
I wanted to! And so I started, sure to run out of ideas well before this
thing came into anywhere
near the conclusion.
Well, I was wrong! I soon came out with several answers to all the questions
I've asked myself
while playing through the game, like: why does this material generate all
those problems
through a simple analysis? How can Gordon fight better than any military we
encounter, and yet
be little more than a scientist with an high-tech suit? Who is this man with
the briefcase and who
is the agency he works for? And even, what is the Black Mesa complex really
all about?
Most of these questions remain officially unanswered. Yes, they may get
answered in the se-
quel, but I suppose that you, as I, simply don't have the patience to wait
for it. And here is where
this novel comes into; to give my version (mind you, MY version) of the
facts as told in the
game.
This brings to the first important note about this novel; don't expect a
true-to-pixel novelization
of the game. Apart from plot clarification, the reason for this is a simple
one:
Valve already made the game - what sense in doing it again?
In particular, don't expect me to follow the Black Mesa structure as seen
in-game meter by
meter; but do expect to encounter more or less the same flow: whatever major
place you pass
through in the game, so will I in this novel. It might be slightly out of
place or things that happen
there may be really different, but nearly everything in the game will be
here.
But, returning to the previous argument, why did I decide to publish this
novel? Well, first of
all because of The Blackest Hole; it opened up, was a relatively new site
and so I decided to try
my luck! It didn't pass a week from when it was put on, that already I had
received the Blackest
Hole Best Story Award and a few e-mails of praise. Well worth giving my
writing capabilities
more than a shot, isn't it? So I began advertising around (read: posting
shameless plugs every-
where), in the hope that more people could read it and, hopefully, like it.
Twisted Half-Life re-
sponded, and from there it's recent history...
THIS NOVEL IS NOT YET COMPLETE!
Explicit enough as a title?
Nice as much as you want, this novel includes only the first five chapters;
and even those are
bound to change: be it a small misspelling or phrasing correction, or the
rewriting of an entire
section due to plot changes, very little in this novel can be deemed stable.
And, as I said, this is my first novel ever; the beginning may thus look a
little bit shaggy com-
pared to the rest, as my writing skills get better through plain and simple
practice.
This brings me to the next subject of this intro: feedback.
I want this to be perfectly clear.
I don't want feedback.
I WANT MY MAILBOX TO OVERFLOW AND BLOW UP FROM FEEDBACK!!!!
And my e-mail, in case you hadn't noticed, is bp...@tin.it
Two things about this:
1) I won't respond to your mail if it doesn't require an answer. If you just
said 'I like it', I will,
as I do with all the others, keep it in my special 'feedback' folder but I
won't answer it. Remem-
ber - each second used writing 'thanks' mails is a second taken from writing
further chapters!
2) I won't mail this file to you. It wouldn't be a problem - but
unfortunately, too many people
have lame e-mail programs or lame e-mail policies (which means they can't
download the
~200Kb file, or the server could even decide to wipe out all their messages
due to overflow).
Believe me when I say this...
Oh, and if you write me, READ MY ARTICLES AT GRAPE'S THOUGHTS (And DO check
out the other guys' articles, of course!) AND MY BLOOD STORY ALSO!
THINGS THAT I WON'T CHANGE
- Measurement units. Sorry boys, international convention for measurement
units are meters,
liters, and Celsius degrees. And nothing is ever going to prevent me from
using them.
CREDITS
(if you see something in italian, don't worry: you wouldn't understand
anyway)
My personal thanks go to following great people:
- Valve Software, of course, for the game and support to the community.
- Experiment One Four One, for hosting this story for first at the Blackest
Hole and for my first
(and so far only) award.
- DErAileD, for hosting this story on Twisted Half-Life and for, well,
another thing...
- Derek Kevin Smart, to whom this novel is dedicated, for teaching me
through his story that no
matter how bad things can go, you can always make it through them.
- Jonathan "The Grape" C. Wu, for letting me post my articles and for giving
me the chance of
a 'big break'...
- "DarkTalyn", for consistently bickering about SP bastards like me and for
giving a new scope
in my life: make him stop saying 'for shame'.
- "Silencer", for, well... never mailing me not even once? :) Well, he's a
cool guy and his articles
talk for him (especially important because he and I never talked).
- The Adrenaline Vault staff for a site I visit regularly, and for a general
'job well done'
- The entire Space Quest community, for ruling bigtime.
- Troels Pleimart, for, the Space Quest FAQ.
- Scott Adams, because they work.
- The Ritual Tribe, because they can rule like few can (see next section).
- The Doom novel tetralogy, for making me say "hey, I can't do worse than
this!"
- The entire Wing Commander community, from Chris Roberts to the CIC staff,
for plainly rul-
ing.
- William Forschten, for the inspiration on my writing style and for
kick-ass Wing Commander
novels.
- Bungie Software for the Marathon Trilogy and for being more wicked and
zany than a soft-
ware house should be allowed to.
- Greg Kirkpatrick, for the Marathon Infinity plotline which is much, much
more poetic, scary,
complex and downright wonderful than anything people will be able to write
from here to eter-
nity - which is, by the way, the time that most people (including me) will
take to figure out each
and every aspect of it.
- Epic Games and Digital Extremes, for showing in a single blow that some
people can't pro-
gram no matter how great is their reputation, and that lamers can actually
be redeemed.
- Paperissima perche' riesce ad essere sempre nuova nonostante l' eta.
- La Gialappas Band, perche' sono ancora originali dopo tutti questi anni.
- The Games Machine, perche' e' superiore a qualsiasi, ripeto, qualsiasi
rivista italiana e strani-
era oggi esistente (vedi prossima sezione).
- And, of course, to YOU, fellow readers, for taking the time to download
and read this novel.
I hope you won't ever regret that time...
My personal flames, hate-mail, and ICQ Nukes go to the following lamers:
- Old Man Murray's site and all of his staff, for being the living proof
that the american stereo-
type of shallow, stupid, drunk, horny and racist people are not completely
unfounded.
- Whoever thinks the abovementioned guys rule, because they should open up
their eyes and see
that while saying "italians suck" and "complex games suck" can be fun for a
while, the only
place it will eventually lead you to is inside a civil war (and believe me,
wars have erupted for
much, much less than a few bad words yelled at each other). Yes, this
includes YOU, mr. Brett
Todd.
- Telecom Italia, for always making Italy recognize itself from the rest of
the world.
- The Italian government, for being yet another proof that communism doesn't
work.
- Everybody who voted for the current government, for proving to the entire
world that the ital-
ian sterotypes are not unfounded.
- The Ritual Tribe, because they can suck as bad as they can rule (see
previous section).
- iD Software, for not understanding that a bad game designer is a bad
thing, but that having no
game designer or a very bad game designer is an even worse thing.
- John Romero, because he can't make not even his girlfriend his bitch.
- PCZeta, perche' avete affogato il sogno Z in un mare di incompetenza e di
traduzioni dalle
oscene riviste straniere (vabbe' tutto, ma proprio PCGamer, che tra le
peggiori e' in assoluto la
peggiore?)
- The Games Machine, perche' e' una rivista fatta, pensata e realizzata da
gente che con i video-
giochi non ha evidentemente mai avuto a che fare (vedi sezione precedente).
MIRRORS
You can find this novel at the following sites, which also double as good
links to visit:
The Blackest Hole
http://www.blackmesa.eon.dk/blackesthole
GOOD LINKS
Sites to visit at least once in your life...
The Blackest Hole
http://www.blackmesa.eon.dk/blackesthole
First site ever to post my novel.
Grape's Thoughts
http://grapesthoughts.profuse.net
Interesting articles, some of which are mine :). CURRENTLY DOWN!
Marathon's Story
http://www.marathon.org/story
Only if you dare...
The Adrenaline Vault
http://www.avault.com
Nice site, quite updated.
The Wing Commander CIC
http://www.wcnews.com
Don't try this if you like Star Wars...
Duck and Cover!
http://www.fallout2.net
Your site for everything on the Fallout game
DISCLAIMER
You can't do anything without this, eh? :)
This novel is based on the computer game Half-Life from Valve software
(distributed by Sierra
On-Line, inc.). All intellectual property such as but not limited to names,
places, symbols relat-
ed to the game Half-Life or to other authorized derivative works is
copyright Valve Software.
This novel is not endorsed nor authorized by Valve Software; therefore, they
have no direct con-
trol on the contents of this novels nor on this novel at all, except for the
ir unquestionable power
to forbid this novel to appear. If such a statement is made by Valve
Software this novel and ev-
erything related to it will be erased and never made available to the public
for no reasons what-
soever (translation: don't sue me! Please don't sue me!)
Everything else over which neither Valve nor any other company or individual
hold demonstra-
ble intellectual rights, is copyright MCMXCIX Francesco "Warzone" Poli and
may not be re-
produced, in part or in whole, in any form but the original distributed one
as an Adobe Portable
Document Format (.PDF) file without direct, express and *written* consent
from the author.
You are entitled to print this file on paper in how many copies you like,
providing the source is
the unaltered PDF file as distributed by me and that the printed output is
not used for anything
but personal viewing (translation: yes, you can print it to read while you'
re not in front of your
PC - you just can't do anything else with it)
Furthermore, you may distribute the original file or the printed output
provided it is in its full
entirety, unaltered from the original PDF and at absolutely no charge, not
even for covering the
paper support expenses; the receiver declares himself bound to the terms
above not to misuse or
alter this novel.
You may also distribute, and are in fact encouraged to do so, the original
PDF file provided that
it is in its full entirety and unaltered from the original version as
distributed by me.
If you wish to mirror this file on a website, though, you must first ask
permission. This is derived
only from the need to ensure that:
a) Your website gets the latest releases, info's and whatever is tied on
this novel
b) You get credit for hosting it, and a link to your site will be added at
the appropriate section.
If gaming magazines wish to host this story on their cover CD-ROM, they may
not do so until
the story is completed; and even then, they must ask for written permission,
and they must send
me one unaltered copy of the issue containg the file.
And without further ado:
Welcome to Gordon Freeman's personal nightmare. Enjoy yourselvesss...
1. FADE TO WHITE
Black Mesa Research Center, Black Mesa, Mexico
July 12, 2002
08:33 AM
"Alpha team, report status. Over." The radio crackled on, then "Status is
negative, sir. Over."
The man got instantly upset. That should have not happened. "Repeat, Alpha."
"Alpha, reporting negative. Primary target can not be acquired, over." The
man began to get vis-
ibly nervous. "Damn it Alpha! Check again!"
The man was being more and more nervous by the moment, as he walked in
circles inside the
nearly featureless gray room. Secrecy be damned! He shouldn't have come this
far just to make
sure everything was OK. He should have just charged in, guns blazing, as
usual. And who cares
if a few eggheads ever got in the way? The ends, first of all.
Then the methods.
"Ssir, you should calm down. Nothing can possibly go wrong now."
The skinny, pale and well-dressed figure was talking to him from a corner
with his usual calm,
reassuring, slightly hissing voice. And the figure was right. Nothing could
have gone wrong. He
inhaled deeply, exhaled and then settled down as the radio crackled on
again.
"Alpha reporting, negative. Over." The big man stood immediately and swore
badly, throwing
then the radio on the floor, putting a dent in it and bending the antenna.
"Ssir, may I suggessst...?" The large man looked coldly at the skinny figure
"They may have
hidden it, or set it somewhere else by missstake. If we set a recaller
there, I could get in and out
just before zero hour. The material is bound to be there at that time."
The man scowled; thought for a minute, inhaled and exhaled heavily again,
then nodded. "Not
many more options, are there?" Although angry, he realized that leaving any
option untried
could bring the anger of his superiors. He was in charge of the operation,
and his was the fault
if he screwed up.
And already he had screwed up once.
He bent and picked up the barely working radio. "Alpha, this is Hot Dog.
Barter up. Over." "Al-
pha, bartering up." One minute passed, as the two figure packed up their
tools, then the confir-
mation "Alpha, bartered up. Moving to extraction point. Over and out."
"Well, G, it's back home the normal way for us this time." The big man,
still quite nervous, and
the quiet, skinny, shadowy figure exited the room and entered the train
station unseen.
*
*BEEEEEP* "Warning: hemorragy detected." *BOOOOOP*"Morphine administered."
That was bad. And he felt it. That thing had really put up a fight, and
unless he found some med-
ical supplies, his hemorragy was only going to worsen. But how could he find
medical assis-
tance for a human being in a place like this? He was lucky that the suit
could surrogate the
functions of his now broken left leg - but that will undoubtedly slow him
down.
And the painkillers won't last forever.
He looked down below. It was a two story fall, but he was sure to survive.
He floated, gently
enough, down to the purplish surface, and touched down without a scratch.
His quarry couldn't have gone very far, and the opening in what seemed like
a cave was the log-
ical place to begin searches...
The sound of a bell ringing from above caught his attention, and he saw
another of the ships,
again appearing straight out of nowhere. Strange sound, but that wouldn't
have made the ship
less deadly. Its laser cannon muzzle began glowing, a deep purple mass
forming in front of it,
mass which soon would have turned into an anti-matter projectile. There was
no time: he ran
forwards as fast as his condition allowed to, and dived behind a rock mere
seconds before it was
turned to dust by the energy blast.
The ship had passed him, though, and he knew he had about six to ten seconds
to get inside be-
fore it could turn, charge up, and fire again.
There was no time to lose: he ran towards the opening, getting under cover
just before the ship
had fired, the blast barely missing him. He switched on the floodlight,
quickly scanning the en-
tire room for hostiles.
No one was inside. Then the ground shaked; dust of the unknown material that
made up the cav-
ern came down from above, and he moved as second too late as the entire roof
crumbled, one
of the rocks hitting him and forcing him to the ground.
He tried to stand, but his legs were completely oblivious to his orders. He
could look above as
he saw another one of the ships, this one strangely hovering above his
position, a much larger
than normal cannon glowing in an eerie green. He had never seen things like
that...
Distorted laughters from all around him made him know that he was
surrounded. Five, no, ten,
no, over twenty of them surrounded him, their disgusting green skin and
single red eye betraying
their nature as living beings, hidden as they were under near full-body
metallic armors.
Then another blast. Pain was much beyond tolerable as he looked to his right
arm to see it wasn't
there anymore; blood, instead, was splattered almost everywhere, his MP5 now
a contorted and
fused piece of black metal.
*BEEEEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* "Warning: Major fracture detect. User death
immi-
nent."
He could barely understand that he was shrieking out very loudly. But then,
his sight turned to
blood red and he couldn't hear anything anymore...
*BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *BEEP* *DRRRRRRRINNnnn* "Come on, Gordon! You're late!"
Gordon Freeman woke up by abruptly on his bed.
He was sweating, his heart pounding as he sat, trying to calm down from the
fading images of
his nightmare still sweeping in front of his eyes.
His right arm was still in position. His legs were still working. He wasn't
bleeding.
And he was in his room, alone, as usual.
It was not the first time he had this kind of nightmare. So real they were,
he could swear he was
actually there a few moments ago...
"Come on, Gordon! You're late!"
He slapped his palm on the alarm clock with automated wake up message, still
dizzied. The fog
of sleep slowly clearing, he glanced at the time. It was 8:40 AM. He was
about to lay down again
as he realized that today wasn't sunday.
And that he had to be in Anomalous Materials... well, about twenty minutes
ago!
Hit hard by the realization, he quickly stood and rushed to his bathroom;
after quickly washing
his theet - hygiene, before all - he returned back to dress.
He couldn't find his tie, so he decided to skip for today.
His chemise had a stain, but he figured that after all his dressing wouldn't
matter when he got
to work.
And he could not even find one pair of matching socks, so he had to fit with
two different ones.
He was almost forgetting his glasses as he ran out of the room.
The dormitories train station was less than two minutes running from his
room, and from there,
a ten minutes ride to the Anomalous Materials Test Labs.
He ran through the nearly empty corridors, unsuprising since everybody would
have been al-
ready at work at this time except the night shift guards.
The train station was a large room where dozens of tracks ran both on the
roof and on the floor.
His was the one for Sector C, and was the closest to the entrance. He slid
his security pass into
its slit on the train, and hastily climbed aboard. Sensing no more
passengers in queue, the train
slowly started towards its destination as the soothing, although annoying,
automated pre-record-
ed speech kicked in:
"Good morning, and welcome to the Black Mesa transit system. This automated
train is provid-
ed for the security and convenience of the Black Mesa facility personnel.
This train is inbound
from Level 3 Dormitories to..."
*
"Subject: Gordon Freeman, male, age 27. Education: Ph.D., MIT, Theoretical
Physicsss. Posi-
tion: Research Associate. Assignment: Anomalous Materialss Laboratory..."
"Get to the point G. Why do you think this egghead is in any way important
to us or to the agen-
cy?
"Well, sir, our intelligence says that he has some... peculiar
characteristics, shall we say?
*
Gordon sat in the train, oblivious of his surroundings as the train
descended through one of the
caverns that made up this section of the complex, while the train message
system went on and
on, seemingly forever, about how the compound was kept at a comfortable heat
at all times,
which was hardly true, about all the security measures, most of which were
so secure their de-
tails were classified, and about the HEV decathlon that had to take place
that night.
Strange. It had taken place the night before, and had been the main reason
for Gordon waking
up late. The people who had to change the message must have been in his same
condition.
The train suddenly came to a halt: a shuttle appeared in the train's path, a
load of crates in tow.
Gordon sighed: those shuttles took strangely long to move; he always
wondered why they
couldn't take faster ones. After all, it's not that they didn't have the
money.
Nevertheless, his wasn't the only train delayed by the shipment; across the
shuttle's path there
was another train, almost empty as his...
He stood, curious, trying to see who could be moving that way at this hour.
One distinct, well
dressed guy was... pointing at him? No, the trains were too far to
distinguish things too clearly,
and his dizziness from the abrupt awakening didn't make matters any easier.
Gordon dismissed his paranoia, hoping that the dizziness wouldn't turn into
yet another splitting
headache, and returned to his seat a moment before the shuttle had cleared
the trains' paths,
which both began moving.
*
D looked at the person G had pointed as the two trains came closer.
"It's HIM? No, I can't believe it. There's no reason for them to..."
"Yet our latest intelligence hints all to this man."
D looked again at the man. It was far, but he could see clearly enough. It
was a scientist, and a
quite mellow looking one. Undoubtedly capable of aborting a weapon
experiment if a fly got in
the test chamber... No. Surely incapable of even doing a weapon experiment
at all.
"Hints, you say? And you know how reliable our intelligence is when they
hint that something
may be right! Already forgot the incident four years ago? Our intelligence
had hinted that this
man was harmless, and we almost lost an entire squad!"
"I... Sorry, ssir."
"Anyway, you really sure that our 'toy' will be in the materials storage by
the time?"
How many times had he asked him? Ten? Twenty? And his answer had never
changed.
"Yes, ssir."
"Hmph. You know, G, someday I'll have to get you a better translator, I'm
quite tired of your
hissing around."
G readjusted his tie and straightened his grip on his briefcase as the train
moved towards its des-
tination. It was going to be a tough day for both of them.
But especially tough for someone else...
Brack!
<gio...@mbox.vol.it> wrote:
>**** NOTE: YOU ARE READING CHAPTER ONE OF THE FIVE PUBLSHED SO FAR. EVERY
>CHAPTER HAS THIS
>NOTE AND MY PERSONAL INFORMATION. IF YOU HAVEN'T RECEIVED ALL CHAPTERS,
>PLEASE
>CONSULT http://blackmesa.eon.dk/blackesthole AND DOWNLOAD THE PDF VERSION,
>WHICH IS
>MUCH BETTER - AS I AM PUBLISHING FOR ADVERTISING ONLY (yes, I know the
>disclaimer
1. Posting your novel along with your personal hitlist is a Bad
Thing(tm) and I doubt will win you any admiration.
2. If you take Old Man Murray seriously, well... you really deserve to
don't you?
3. Get a proofreader.
--
Brack! of assorted nerdery.
"Oh no! Green Kryptonite ... weakening my super-bladder ... must get lead "Depends"!"
[begin anti-spam block]
My e-mail address is *not*: <root@[127.0.0.1]> <postm...@1.0.0.127.IN-ADDR.ARPA> <postmaster@[127.0.0.1]><ab...@mci.net> <MAILER-DAEMON@[127.0.0.1]> <abuse@[127.0.0.1]> <tos...@aol.com> <.@[127.0.0.1]> <..@[127.0.0.1]> UNSUBSCRIBE[end]
ch...@oldmanmurray.com
<gio...@mbox.vol.it> wrote:
>My personal flames, hate-mail, and ICQ Nukes go to the following lamers:
>
>- Old Man Murray's site and all of his staff, for being the living proof
>that the american stereo-type of shallow, stupid, drunk, horny and racist people are not completely
>unfounded. Whoever thinks the abovementioned guys rule, because they should open up
>their eyes and see that while saying "italians suck" and "complex games suck" can be fun for a
>while, the only place it will eventually lead you to is inside a civil war (and believe me,
>wars have erupted for much, much less than a few bad words yelled at each other). Yes, this
>includes YOU, mr. Brett
As a member of the OldManMmurray site we thank you for your award, and
humbly accept it.
While I will not take the time to read your long winded pointless
novel, I am sure that hack Marc Laidlaw will be trembling in his
boots as your writing will easily surpass his. You came up with 5
chapters, what did he come up with? "Go get them!"?
The only passage I read of your work was:
"Never underestimate an egghead... He almost hoped that guy was in
truth a gal with fake moustaches and beard. It would've made things so
much easier..." (chapter 5)
I thought man on man sex was a sign of machismo? Why pretend it is a
woman? Or is it true that most Italian females where fake beards and
moustaches? (I always thought they were real but live and learn) And
the very idea to wear multiple moustaches is genius. One above the
lip, two above the eyes? Or is there a better arrangement?
Again thanks for the award. I would like to thank first and foremost,
God. Secondly my nation as a whole. When we join a war we tend to
stay on one side and not flip flop like a fish out of watert. I would
personally like to thank my mom, for growing no moustache or beards
and not getting that big gob of fat under her arms that so many older
Italian women find so attractive. And thank you for taking our work
so personally, I am sure you will find nostrodamus himself predict our
game page will bring down the USA itself.
Chet
http://www.oldmanmurray.com
La vostra base può succhiare il dick del mio asino .
erik...@my-dejanews.com
Dear Giorgio,
Seeing as you're not a native English speaker, I
considered simply ignoring your novel, much as I
would ignore your cries for help were you to be
set on fire within earshot of me. But it's not
often I get the chance to have a meaningful
argument with one of you Italians, since you're
usually speaking Pig-Latin or French or however it
is you people communicate with each other and I
only know an English dialect primarily spoken in a
section of the galaxy called the entire world.
Also, are you the culture that find handshakes
insulting because you wipe your butts with your
right hands? I'm not trying to be inflammatory,
I'm sincerely curious.
> But, as you must have guessed, I love to write!
Sci-fi, fantasy, original,
I guessed it! And from the quality of your work,
I'm also guessing that you've been much too busy
writing to read a book.
> (http://grapesthoughts.profuse.net) and one,
brief, sto-
> ry at Caleb's Crypt
(http://www.planetblood.com/crypt) - be warned
that
> knowledge of the sto-
> ryline of the games Blood and Blood 2 by
Monolith is a requirement to
> actually understand the
> story.
I was going to continue responding to your
post - this steel cage match between the
superhuman idiocy and the crashing tedium of your
"writing" - but then I read about your Blood 2
fiction, and I just can't bring myself to berate
you any further. It's just so pathetic. I'm
embarrassed for us both.
erik, GED
--== Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/ ==--
---Share what you know. Learn what you don't.---
erik...@my-dejanews.com
Dear Giorgio,
Seeing as you're not a native English speaker, I considered simply
ignoring your novel, much as I would ignore your cries for help were you
to be set on fire within earshot of me. But it's not often I get the
chance to have a meaningful argument with one of you Italians, since
you're usually speaking Pig-Latin or French or however it is you people
communicate with each other and I only know an English dialect primarily
spoken in a section of the galaxy called the entire world. Also, are
your people the culture that finds handshakes insulting because you wipe
your butts with your right hands? I'm not trying to be inflammatory,
I'm sincerely curious.
> But, as you must have guessed, I love to write!
Sci-fi, fantasy, original,
I guessed it! And from the quality of your work, I'm also guessing that
you've been much too busy writing to read a book.
> (http://grapesthoughts.profuse.net) and one,
brief, sto-
> ry at Caleb's Crypt
(http://www.planetblood.com/crypt) - be warned
that
> knowledge of the sto-
> ryline of the games Blood and Blood 2 by
Monolith is a requirement to
> actually understand the
> story.
I was going to continue responding to your post - this steel cage match
erik...@my-dejanews.com
Dear George,
I want to apologize for the harshness of previous response. Since
you've obvously visited our site, I can only imagine that you've seen
our motto, "Two crippled brothers. One old man. Revenge against all
odds!" Chet and I are wheelchair-bound and like to think about space.
For you to refer to us a 'lamers' is unconscionably cruel. I guess
that's what I was reacting to. I must admit I enjoy your Lewis
Carroll-esque use of nonsense words. Hemorragy, indeed.
"someday I'll have to get you a better translator,"
erik, GED
Barney Gumble
<erik...@my-dejanews.com> wrote in message news:7hhc5b$720$1...@nnrp1.deja.com...
>
>
> Dear Giorgio,
>
> Seeing as you're not a native English speaker, I
> considered simply ignoring your novel, much as I
> would ignore your cries for help were you to be
> set on fire within earshot of me.
<snip>
I think I'm going to join several ISP's, use fake e-mail accounts and insult Erik
and Chet just so we can be treated to their responses. :)
door...@my-dejanews.com
being the living proof that the american stereo-
type of shallow, stupid, drunk, horny and racist
people are not completely unfounded.
Shame, shame, shame on them for name calling!
- Whoever thinks the abovementioned guys rule,
because they should open up their eyes and see
that while saying "italians suck" and "complex
games suck" can be fun for a while, the only
place it will eventually lead you to is inside a
civil war (and believe me, wars have erupted for
much, much less than a few bad words yelled at
each other).
Civil War? I understand Vermont took objection
to the "complex games suck" statement - but
otherwise, united we stand. Or has Italy become
a US territory? I miss these things sometime.
Ah, the lure of easy foodstamps...
Final comments:
Anyways, I liked the mention of Old Man
Murray's. I guess you also wrote something or
other?
Cheers,
Doornail
Fuji Sartono
how _you_ could do better ...
>