Nocturnal Visitors

On this rather cold and inhospitable day (as they often tend to be up here in the cold northern wasteland) I’ve found myself gripped by an insatiable need to write, and as luck would have it, my good friend Jeff recently entrusted me with the opportunity to express my opinions at this illustrious establishment.

Unfortunately it appears that, despite an awful longing to pour the contents of my brain out onto the page, I had nothing of substance to say. While some might give up and go do something productive, for example pay some attention to a Bacterial Physiology test, I decided instead to blame my inability to commit a coherent thought to paper (or perhaps more accurately “electronic paper”) on a recent nocturnal assault, which I will explain.

On the night of Tuesday the 17th I drifted off to into a deep sleep. Once firmly entrenched in this death-like state, I awoke to find myself in a vast library, filled with shelf upon shelf of musty tomes and ancient grimoires. The amount of arcane knowledge on display was enough to bring tears of joy to my often expressionless face, and I eagerly grabbed the largest and most formidable one I could find. After an undetermined amount of time I began to hear sounds, sounds that could be only described as the whispers of alien tongues. While this would have likely unnerved most, I simply assumed that such events were the natural consequence of trying to discover the things man was not meant to know. As I gleefully continued to absorb information concerning alien entities and the end of mankind’s insignificant existence, I came upon a page that was initially completely devoid of text.

I say initially because soon after I arrived at this page a number of rather unsettling symbols began to appear, glowing a deep crimson color in the rapidly diminishing light of the library. Naturally I was becoming aware that it was rapidly approaching that time when those that wished to remain alive would be making a swift exit, but before I could do so the symbols vanished and I found myself staring though the page into another dimension, or more specifically the horrible tentacle face of Nyarlathotep himself. Giving into the “FUCK FUCK FUCK” sort of panic that mortals faced with their immient demise often do, I tried to fling the book aside and defend myself from a volume of approaching tentacles that would make the average Japanese hentai jealous. It was at this time I apparently returned to waking world, finding myself momentarily airborne before making a bone-shattering landing on the floor near my bed.

In my desperate dreamland struggles I had apparently flung myself off my bed and awoken during my inevitable plunge downward.

How is this even remotely relevant you ask? While I may have escaped with my life, I believe that tentacled horror took a piece of me, a piece I am going to blame for my inability to come up with something to write about.
Hopefully in relating this, my greatest dream in the last year, you can all get an ample introduction into who I am and how my mind works.

In gaming related news, I hope everyone has checked out the most recent Resident evil 5 trailer. If you haven’t already done so, DO IT. RIGHT FUCKING NOW. I will spare you all from an in depth discussion of if for now, but just let me assure you, the ratio of Wesker to everything else is so skewed in Wesker’s favor that I was easily able to disprove the common myth that men cannot have an organism multiple times in a row.