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Monday June 1, 1951 1:00pm - Drama and Science
When we left last our intrepid geologist with a remarkable pistol arm, he was about to get eaten alive by giant ants
Holy shit! that was close. Lucky I carry around this fully packed bandoleer of grenades everywhere I go, or that could have gone south really quickly.
I sawed the head off one of the ants. At first I just thought it'd look good on the mantelpiece, but then I wondered what Dr. Wells would think of this.
This is an important gameplay element. There are 4 types of evidence we can retrieve from ants. If we get all four, we'll be able to convince the mayor to call a general alert. Other than that, they're completely useless, as you will soon see.
Deciding to go see Dr. Wells I took the long drive to Platt University's giant mutant ant lab.
Dr. H.G. Wells... the great man himself! There's a good deal I could learn from a brilliant theoretician like Dr. Wells.
His name reminded of something, but I couldn't quite place it.
They REALLY could have been more subtle about that particular allusion.
I dismissed the thought, and got straight to the point, handing over the evidence of the creature I had brought. I knew that Dr. Wells was quite the science fiction buff, so when I explained that I had taken the severed head from a giant ant, I wasn't surprised that he seemed unperturbed.
A 24 hour turn around for detailed analysis of a never-before-seen mutated creature part seems pretty damn good to me. In the meantime however I had some time to kill.
I remembered Biff talking about a hottie who worked over at the KBUG radio station - Dusty. I decided to drop by and see if I was going to get lucky tonight.
It was kind of creepy I guess to just stand there staring at her for several minutes, but I couldn't take my eyes off her... amplifiers.
I see the Greg Bradley magic is working already. OK so I rank as slightly less interesting as a headless cow, but that's still better than my last girlfriend who was a cow. I would definitely be calling her back.
I headed down the main street and dropped in at the gas station.
I hadn't known Elmer all that long, but I could tell something was wrong...
It was pretty much just a guess, but it was a good one - there was almost always something wrong with Elmer. He had a longer yellow streak than a herd of stampeding wildebeest, so he usually cowered in his office while people took the gas.
You'll notice how the game assaults you with clues that you should probably go check out JD's farm. The game is pretty liberal with clues up front, with the hopes that when you're completely on your own in the end game, you can figure out what the hell you're meant to be doing.
They've also mixed in some ham-handed foreshadowing too! Pretty impressive, Cinemaware.
Also note that "Rebel Without a Cause" came out in 1955. If these kids were meant to be emulating James Deans' behaviour in the film, the date of this game is again called into question. Maybe they were intended to be trendsetters though.
Biff had mentioned something about this bunch. They had run a couple off the road a few weeks back. Nice kids...
Apparently they're quite fond of playing impromptu games of chicken with unsuspecting drivers. They're the type to hang out at the drive-in theatre in a two-bit town like this, greasing their hair back and pretending that they're hardcore.
Largely ignoring Elmer's words, I wandered around aimlessly for a while in the centre of the town. Eventually I found a small house tucked out of the way to the west.
It looked rather rundown and ramshackle, and as I approached I wondered what it was for. Fortunately for me, there was a sign outside.
"Fortunes told! Death predicted! Reasonable rates!"
The fortune teller is a glorified hints machine - as a result we won't be seeing much of her. Especially since the hints are totally useless.
Bug spray? like for ants?! Maybe this woman knows something!
Amazing! No-one else in the town knows that I'm investigating the meteor, so she must be a real psychic! Her accent did seem to come and go though. She said 'nothink' but then 'coming'. How odd.
The hairs were standing up on the back of my neck. Usually a sign it was time to go.
... that's it? Are you serious? You're some crazy old woman with psychic powers, and all you can tell me is that there are holes in the ground?
Fucking hell this was a waste of $10.
The old woman gave me the creeps though. As I turned to go I made a mental note to keep an eye on her. That way I know precisely where not to be.
Although I had plans that it wouldn't stay that way for long. It was 6 O'Clock, and that means it's time to get out my Little Black Book.
Most times you call someone, this old bitch operator will give you some (generally useless) gossip or advice. In this case, it's at least not another mention of J.D's Farm.
Those miners always love to gossip, but what with the giant ant invasion maybe there's something to this story. I'll need to investigate the mines I think.
Well, I'd rather she came straight round to my place, but I guess this couldn't hurt. Get her a bit drunk first, then back here for some fun and games.
I was always amused by how unusual and unexpected it was to have a pub run by an Irishman. It's not as if they're stereotyped as heavy drinkers.
Man! After all that, all she wanted to do was gossip. This is just fucking typical - Greg Bradley, always the bridesmaid..
I went to bed early and didn't wake up until the next morning.
When I awoke, I started pacing. I needed to do something - anything. Giant fucking ants are a pretty big deal. My thoughts kept drifting back to Dusty and her stupid gossip.
I was greeted by a beautiful dame, as I had been hoping, and my morning got a little bit better. I had no idea who this redhead was, but damn if she didn't put any thought of Dusty out of my mind.
Next update: Less drama, more redheads, more ants!