Red Write Hand

To the tune of Red Right Hand by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

I gone and done wrote something, hic:

I’m Big Daddy Delta, terror of Rapture, splitter of splicers, defender of the weak, diving suit fetishist extraordinaire. I’m stuck on one side of a door, there’s a broken window and a yellow glowing switch a few feet away. I have a clever hacking dart gun, which requires my simply pressing a button when a needle on its meter passes through a certain colour. I shoot, I score… and get a mild electric shock. I repeat. Again and again. There’s an endless supply of darts so I keep shooting until I die of Electron Overdose and respawn, humiliated, at a Vitachamber. Yet again, someone on the art team has thoughtlessly swallowed the Manichean standard that red is bad and green is good, and decided he should use a primary palette to distinguish between these opposites -which means poor old colour-blind me gets killed.

You can read the rest over at RPS

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GriddleOctopus

There are few harder things in life than introducing yourself, especially in print where mellifluous nuance can turn to indulgent wankery. So. I am definitely a 'writer'. You could also call me an 'artist'. I could probably put the words 'designer' and 'consultant' here too, but they feel crass.

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2 comments

  • Ha, Future, where I used to work, was split between a few Cool magazines, a lot of nerdy games magazines and a few, very-profitable, cross-stitching magazines run by mumsy girls, lusted after by the geeks. I fear that only in twenty years will the world suffer under the awful consequences of this cross-genre miscegenation…

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