Also worth noting is that apprently Evel Knievel is dead at 69. I'm surprised he lived that long knowing what he did for a living. Here's hoping he's somewhere else doing something crazy right now.
Next up on my list of little things to blog about, here's a couple of screens (front and back) of Johnny Bildo: Sapper of the 17th Rank, Allied Sentient Forces. The gun on my back is called a Polarity Rifle... and rules all. It sends out this stream of electric energy, not unlike a tesla coil, and when I release the trigger it lets loose a big heaping pulse at the end of the stream causing massive damage against the enemy I have targeted.
The downside is that there are annoying little wildlife who are immune to its electric energy. For them, I revert back to my rifle or my shotgun. But more often than not, the Polarity Rifle is my baby. As you can see from the info on the left, I'm about 20 hours into the game, which is pretty good for progression. 20 hours = 17 levels. Not bad. I haven't even been "trying". I just go around do missions, kill things, and have fun. I had a boring and empty Sunday (thank Jeebus) so I was able to get in 4 hours worth of playing throughout the day, in about 45 minute chunks here and there.
And lastly, I'd like to write an open letter to Santa.
Dear Fat Man,
Please let my wife get a nice Christmas bonus so that I might get my Xbox 360, thus completing my Wii60 Entertainment Center. If you comply, I will not kill your wife. She is well, but she could stand to lose a few pounds. Perhaps I shall start with her chubby little feet. Then again, should I receive my Christmas wish I will let her be, and you can have your lovely back. Do act wisely, sir.
Regards,
Bildo
1 comment:
Dear Bildo.
Pleae try to remember that I'm Santa Claws. I know if you've been naughty or nice, and I know where you live, and despite the extra pounds I've put on these past few centuries I'm still capable of squeezing down your chimney (or any other available rooftop duct) sneaking into your room while you sleep, and plucking out your eyes. Oh, you'll get your Xbox 360 alright, but I hope you can play Halo 3 by sound alone, you lucky, little boy.
Now release the portly lass I call my wife, and nobody gets hurt.
Sincerely,
S.C. aka The Fat Man.
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