Step Daddy
Big Decapitated Head
Sugar Daddy
Aside from being some delicious in-game advertising, the Sugar Daddy was envisioned to be a kickass addition to Rapture’s ecology. Inspired by a segment on spiders in Planet Earth, he shat caramel to use as adhesive traps for his enemies. His drill served as both a weapon and a stirring mechanism for his caramel. Needless to say, his gooey composition made him quite popular with the Little Sisters. Too popular. Numerous dynamic battles between them ensued. Little Sisters began resorting to sucking excess sugar out of his fecal matter with their syringes.
You’ll note that he’s posing in this picture. This is a common behavior for the Sugar Daddy to exhibit. After the shutter opens, the emulsion is exposed, and the camera calculates the composition of the photo and grades it on a letter scale, the Sugar Daddy will hurl his caramel shit at the lens of the camera and proceed to butter the player’s bread as it were.
The team hired 3 new programmers whose sole job was to work on lifelike caramel viscosity. Due to the recession and the realization that such a pursuit was technically impossible, the Sugar Daddy was abandoned and the men were laid off. One of his architects may or may not have turned to selling intelligence for injectable income.
Super Small Craw Daddy
These little critters got their start as a pervasive, run-of-the-mill STD, native to the deep-sea home of Rapture. Their existence was known to the city’s inhabitants for some time. The brightest and most learned doctors in the world classified them as Pubis Crawdaddus Vulgaris, but that was all they did and a cure was considered unimaginable. Dirty fisherman and all-around no-goodnick, Peach Wilkins was believed to be the first to contract this disease. This was corroborated with one of his daily ‘Dear audio diary’ entries.
How he contracted it was not certain and not a topic anyone wanted to explore further.
It wasn’t long before these vermin found their way to Rapture’s premiere pole dancer, Jasmine Jolie, and then onto the moustache of Andrew Ryan. Colonizing both facial hair and pubic undergrowth, the Crawdads came into contact with plasmid residue. This exposure imbued the Crawdads with a variety of powers. They began to exploit the natural resources around them, like makeup glitter and aftershave, extracting alloys to craft weapons, armor, and anything else they could ever need. However, the Crawdads weren’t the only forms of life to be transformed. Their main aggressors were Splicer Sperm. Splicer Sperm also adapted and used the Date Rape plasmid (known as Electro Bolt to us humans) to stun the Crawdads and then attempted to enter them, thinking they might be eggs.
As the world of Rapture collapsed, a separate, microscopic dystopia existed just underneath everyone’s noses… and genitals. The citizens of Rapture began to don masks, much like
syphilis wigs, to cover up their shame and the pinch welts that covered their faces.
Note to the player: Don’t be fooled, these guys can pinch something fierce. Avoid public bathrooms and whatever you do, don’t touch a single toilet handle. That’s where large concentrations of them frequent. The best defense against them is to stand underneath some water. Add the new Mr. Scrubbing Bubbles plasmid to said water. Work into a lather. Keep on body for 1 minute. Rinse off. Repeat until skin turns red.
Big Bad Foster Parents
Pretty self-explanatory. The parents force the kids to oil their guns, wash the hog, tape episodes of Texas Justice, pick up used syringes off the floors of metro stations, and alert the family to hide whenever a Jehovah’s Witness approaches the house. Foster Mom is armed, quite literally with an industrial strength eggbeater, which she uses to stir government pancake mix to feed 30, and also to beat some of the Little Brothers’ eggs if they step out of line. Notice the boy in front covering his privates? He has nightmares about that thing.
Big Brother Who Smokes WeedForgot to pick up your Little Sister from the vent and take her to suck liquid out of waterlogged corpses? Just tell her you were getting high and syncing up Anna Culpepper’s new album to play perfectly with seahorse mating rituals . . . She’ll understand.
Big DrillThis mean motherfucker is just all sorts of fuck you up
- EG and JF