Here’s a fast-bodged-up reaction gif for all Isaac-traumatising occasions.
You might like to download The Binding of Isaac: Rebirth to find out what so horrified him in the first place. Actually, after a good 58 hours of getting small children killed by assorted abominations, I strongly recommend doing so.
700 in-game hours later
This video clip was found on alt.binaries.slack some time in 2003. I’ve no idea where it’s from, but it pretty much sums up my feelings about the increasingly silly season.
Reblogging for the festering season after about eight years…
I don’t normally post horror vids, but this one is modern, short, to the point, and will inevitably be optioned, ballooning in its death throes to six two-hour movies, each outdoing the other for vapidity, body count and lack of imagination.
What if ancient spaceships hide out on the edges of the charted regions like dragons on the corners of old mariner maps, hunting the void as crewless leviathans ever in search of power?
This sounds like a prompt for an indie sci-fi horror survival game. Possibly in the WH4K universe.
Here’s a fast-bodged-up reaction gif for all Isaac-traumatising occasions.
You might like to download The Binding of Isaac: Rebirth to find out what so horrified him in the first place. Actually, after a good 58 hours of getting small children killed by assorted abominations, I strongly recommend doing so.
This unfinished story will probably never be finished. It started out as an idea for a “dark science fiction” series, ripping off all manner of sources.
If anyone wants to throw large sums of money into putting this thing on screen (yeah, right), let me know.
Darkness gives way to tiny lights.
Not that it gives way all that far; just enough to reveal shape, distance, generalities. Rows of things, gleam of frost.
The things in rows look like carcasses in plastic bags, hanging on hooks from racks in the ceiling. From the floor, tubes and pipes and wires of many sorts wind up into ports and plugs in the ‘front’ of the baggy, upside down, all too human shapes; high-tech viscera in a frozen slaughterhouse. Presumably pumps are whirring and electronics hum and bleep. Not that one can hear; there is no atmosphere to carry sound to ears.
When atmosphere does arrive, it arrives in silence, too — a soundless bellow of fog from a hundred vents, racing down the racks, setting some contents swaying. At first, anyway. As the pressure rises, the sound becomes more audible, a life giving roaring. A roaring that swells and suddenly cuts out. Heating elements cut in, long hot glows, attempting to keep the newly released atmosphere from freezing to walls, racks, floors.
Now a new sound is heard: Crack of ice, shriek of unwilling hinges. Someone has opened an airlock.
And this is why, when I finally move out and live on my own, there will be no television, no DVD player, just a computer.
Oh, and Roger? The solifugids called. They say “Fuck you asshole”.
This unfinished story will probably never be finished. It started out as an idea for a “dark science fiction” series, ripping off all manner of sources.
If anyone wants to throw large sums of money into putting this thing on screen (yeah, right), let me know.
