The Event Horizon producers are on the phone. They sound pissed.
So, I’ve started playing Dead Space, for when Annette can’t (or doesn’t want to) play World of Warcraft.
I keep imagining a meeting like this:
“Ah, Mr Perkins! Come in, come in, we can’t wait to see your presentation!”
“Thank you. Gentlemen, I give you the USG Ishimura, the latest in the “Planet-Cracker” class of interstellar mining vessels. As you can see, the basic design of the ship revolves completely around compartmentalization of tasks, and as such we’ve structured our design so that the malfunction of a single tram, or door control computer, will turn the task of moving around the vessel into a process that is simultaneously as linear as a rail-gun and as convoluted as a Klein bottle.”
“Well done!”
“I’m glad you appreciate how difficult that was… as you can see, decor throughout the ship, even in the crew zones, is based on a palette of textures and materials that we like to call “Rusty Metal”. All of these metals have been treated so that bloodstains will stick to their surfaces like crazy. Any crazed and/or disturbing messages that you scrawl on these walls using your own or someone elses blood, will stay legible for as long as you wish.”
“Excellent. A question, if I may. I’m concerned about the size and availability of the air vents. Can you tell us about that?”
“Of course – the air vents run throughout all areas of the ship, and are are about the size of .. oh .. about the size of an animated and deformed human corpse. Yeah. About that big.”
“Splendid. Now .. what about explosive barrels? Crates containing health packs and weapon ammunition? Are there … are there enough?”
“Gentlemen, there are shitloads.”