Happy almost Halloween, everyone! May your nights be full of good scary and not bad scary.
I sincerely apologize if I just gave anyone nightmares. I’ll be entering my own horror show soon, but I’ve got these two chapters plus one sweet, character-driven chapter before that.
In the meantime, here… we… go!
This week in HL2 I save two civilians by applying a crowbar to a couple of CPs’ faces and get a gun.
I immediately can’t remember which is the toggle button.
All I want is to break down the door.
When I finally get to the part where you jump the trains, a woman’s voice starts playing over the speakers:
“Unidentified person of interest: confirm your local status with Civil Protection immediately.”
And I’m just like:
Civil Protection finds new and interesting ways to try to kill me.
This enables me to hit them with an explosion, which is way more fun than it ought to be.
Valve does this on purpose, right? It’s not just me?
My first alien friend is a Vortigon. I almost shoot him, but ha, I’m getting better at this. You can’t get me like that, Valve. I’m onto your devious, fake-out ways. The Vortigon offers me advice and brotherhood.
What the fuck does that mean?
It’s pretty funny they call this a railroad. Its clear HL2 likes to mine from history, but is this a little too on the nose? Oh well, I still love it.
Soon after I’m treated to the devastating impact of alien life forms on nature:
GLaDOS likes this post.
With all these sewers I’m bracing myself for the creepy-crawly head-huggers. You know they are coming.
On a personal note, I’m not enjoying this as much as I expected I would. I was jazzed to get back to City 17, to inspect all the nooks and crannies, to put lead in a few Combine. But I’m completely stressed out.
The problem is, every time I’m in a combat situation it seems like it goes like this:
I would find this funny if it didn’t give me heart failure every time.
And then I keep running into moments like this:
Next we play whack-a-mole with scanners.
I’m not entirely sure what these guys are supposed to be accomplishing other than being extremely annoying.
And then it happens.
I run past with a high-pitched keen that makes my dog scratch at my door.
I make it out of the zombie-infested swamp in record time, scuttling across some convenient planks until I meet this lass:
In other words: someone with very poor common sense gives me their airboat. Lady, of all the theoretical ideas that could possibly be generated in your head, this is the worst. I’m a physicist, not a truck driver.
But, if you insist…
I might be going to hell.
At some point I get out of my airboat of doom to break a rations crate.
I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT!
Someone puts a gun on my airboat, which is, impressively, an even stupider decision than giving me an airboat in the first place. My hand-eye coordination might be improving, but you are asking a lot of me, sir, if you think I can steer and shoot at the same time.
The fourth chapter ends in a showdown with one of the Combine copters. I didn’t remember taking down the big guns so early in the game. It’s kind of hysterical to think of a 30-something nerd destroying alien aircraft from a dingy water boat.
Someone on the home planet must be pretty mad.