Here’s the next in a series of articles I wrote for the League of Legends lore newspaper.

Bandle City Mothership Dispenses Fossilized Cupcake

Yordles to hold parade in honor of petrified pastry

Yordle scientists are studying the fossilized remains of what has been determined to be a cupcake recovered from the famed “Mothership” of Bandle City. Beardly Kittle, a local tinkerer, made the discovery over the weekend when he fell from unstable scaffolding.

“I’m lucky I had my safety line!” Kittle said in a press conference on Sunday afternoon. “The walkway just fell away beneath me. I must’ve fallen at least fifteen feet before my line ended and I crashed into the side of the ship. When I came to, there was a loose panel with some lights flashing inside. I reached in to see if I could feel what it was. Just then, I heard a ‘ding!’ and a stone fell into my hand!”

Other witnesses claimed to see lights flashing across the ship for a few seconds just after Kittle had fallen earlier that morning. A large crowd gathered almost instantly after the event, but it was several hours before an agreement could be reached on how to get him down.

Bandle City Mayor Dennison Jadefellow authorized a scientific study for both the stone in Kittle’s possession and the Mothership itself. The Journal of Justice was able to gain an exclusive analysis of the results.

“The ‘stone’ specimen is, in fact, a petrified cupcake,” says lead scientist Margie Grunbean. “As you can see, it has a porous cake layer covered by a hardened shell of frosting, and a rock-solid cherry attached at its top. It certainly isn’t edible now. I can only guess what sorts of preservatives they must have put in the thing to make it do this.”

When asked about the Mothership, Grunbean was less conclusive: “I haven’t the faintest idea of how it happened. We even tried stringing someone up there to do the same thing that Kittle did. Poor Smeed is bruised to high heaven after bashing himself into the side of it all afternoon—and nothing happened! We are continuing to investigate, but so far it doesn’t look like the Mothership will be turning on anytime soon.”

The Bandle City Mothership, a hulking, unfinished rocket ship that sits above the city center, is a cultural icon for Yordles across Runeterra. There are no records that say where it came from, but oral histories declare that it was there before the first Yordles came to settle the Ruddynip Valley (where modern day Bandle City is now located). Yordle society is unified around the concept of “getting it ready,” or restoring the dilapidated structure as a symbol of cooperation. Unfortunately, actual cooperation ends with a hodgepodge of several unfinished projects littering the site, and ongoing debate over what should be done next.

The discovery has awakened unified celebration in Bandle City for the time being, however, with Mayor Jadefellow declaring a city-state holiday on Friday.

Local civic groups are being asked prepare a parade in honor of Kittle and his cupcake.

I wrote a series of articles for the Journal of Justice–story portal and vehicle for characters in the League of Legends world.  Here’s the first:

_____________________________

Kassadin Attacks Malzahar in Attempt to Prevent Sacrifice

Void Walker now on the run after causing massive power outage

League Champion Kassadin is on the run after a failed attempt to prevent a sacrificial ritual, resulting in a major blackout within Zaun. According to witnesses, he discharged Void energy in an attempt to save a young woman from being sacrificed at the hands of fellow League Champion Malzahar. The energy was sucked into a hexvein conduit feeding into the nexus powering the southern district, causing extensive damage that will take Zaunite techmaturgical crews several days to repair.

Malzahar’s presence in Zaun attests to the existence of a growing subculture of Void worshippers. The self-proclaimed “prophet” is still met with intense skepticism, however, with Valoranian leadership equating his bodements to nattering gossip.

Despite his extremist views, Malzahar has found an audience. He appeared in Zaun’s southern district this morning with several hundred cultist followers, chanting in an unknown dialect. The gathering quickly escalated into a rally of both void worshippers and protesters alike, with the Prophet floating above a hexvein power node in the center of the crowd. Onlookers say the group soon carried a bound young woman out to Malzahar, over whom he initiated a sacrificial spell and caused his dagger to magically levitate above her.

It was at that moment that Kassadin abruptly materialized, dressed in full League regalia. He activated his sword and pointed it at Malzahar. A participant at the event, who refused to give his name, recorded the exchange between the champions. We transcribed a portion of it:

[Pulsing sound followed by shuffling and startled screams]

Kassadin: “Malzahar! Get away from her! She is not yours!”

Malzahar: “Brother! Enlightened Walker of the Path! Join us!”

Kassadin: “Don’t patronize me, mage! You threaten the balance! Let her go!”

[Another pulse sound, a woman’s scream, and a small explosion]

Malzahar: “See what you’ve done! This is your doing!”

Kassadin: “No!”

[Static]

Our source described what happened: “It all happened very fast. Kassadin appeared just like Malzahar said he would. The blast that Kassadin sent toward the Prophet seemed to pull itself to the dagger instead. When it hit, the dagger glowed and cut a hole open into the air. Like lightning, a shadow grabbed the woman and dragged her in. She disappeared! The explosion as the hole closed was what destroyed that power node.”

Reports say the Void energy explosion was not large, but the close proximity of the power node caused it to absorb the majority of the blast. A purple glow flowed down the conduit, causing fluctuations as it reached the nexus.

Zaun Security Supervisor, Rhoman Plath, made a statement soon after:

“Void Cultists are a crock, to be frank. We will be looking into the incident, but sadly, the death of one person is not news here in Zaun. We are in pursuit of Kassadin, seeing as he is the culprit behind the blackout. Unfortunately, as my men have informed me, he is nearly impossible to catch, so we hope he will come forward of his own volition. As for the victim’s identity, our initial investigation has suggested that this woman may, in fact, be Kassadin’s daughter.”

This is a chapter from a book I’m developing.  I thought it would be interesting to develop out the characters from here to build context and background.

__________________________

She leaned out the door and felt the wind whipping back into her face.  Shit. The bus cruised at around 150 kph. She hesitated as she fingered her Plank strapped to her back.  Suburb walls blurred by with brick patterns like some 8-bit video game.  There were 6 cars locked in formation opposite from her, slowly drifting back and forth.  Traffic is light today.

“Listen, lady!  I ain’t gonna tell you again!  Get back inside!”

She glanced back at the pointed taser, and the trembling security uniform holding it.  He was short—with a spatter of sweat sparkling on his bald head and rings under his eyes.  Too much coffee. He seemed nice, probably on his way home from the night shift.   His eyes darted nervously as he fingered the trigger.  People in the seats behind him kept their heads down, trying not to look conspicuous.

“Warning!  Please stay back from the door, or the bus will be forced to initiate an emergency stop.”

That was a Lucy coming from the console.  Marx would be proud.

“Hey!”

She turned and faced him.  The poor man was clearly not used to dealing with mods.

“You have 20 seconds before emergency stopping measures.”

At the same instant, the bus bumped over something in the road.

CRITZZZZ!

Sal ducked.  She heard the crackle of the Tesla leads sizzling by her head.  With a jolt, one of them hit her Plank as she went down.  Holy…

“God damnit!”  She screamed.

“S-Sorry!” The guard blurted, “it slipped…!”

“Asshole!” Sal yelled as she grabbed and pulled the wire off the Plank.

In a catlike motion, she turned and leapt out the door while grabbing and pulling the Plank around to her feet.  The black pavement menacingly swept by below her as she tensed for a microsecond, time slowing to a crawl.  Road splatter in T-minus…

BAM, Sal landed on the hood of a blue four-door, sitting on her ass.  Immediately, the car decelerated as the bus drifted ahead.   Letting her legs dangle in front of the car, Sal gripped the front panels and stomped the Plank on the road.  She screamed, “Fuck that taser!”  The Plank was dead, and the stupid guard was long gone.

The car slowed and moved toward the shoulder.  She watched, helplessly, as the rest of the formation broke away.   Before the car stopped, she hopped off to the right side — the Plank still magged to her feet.  She abruptly planted her face into some brush as the wheels seized over the loose rock.

A car door opened on the opposite side.  A hometown nerd with glasses hopped out of the door and trotted toward her.

“Jesus, Mary, Mother of are you all right?!”  His head darted back and forth, looking at her, the hood of the car, her, and the freeway, seemingly wanting do all at the same time, “What in Dante’s Hangover were you trying to do?!”

Sal laid back and panted.  She pulled up her feet and hit the release toggle on her boot.  The Plank popped off.  I’m going to kill Marx…

“Is anything broken?”  He was staring at her more closely now, kneeling and hands raised.  Up close, he looked like a time warp.

“My goddamn Plank, apparently.  Nice spectacles.” Sal sat up and put her hand on her head as she looked at him.  He had shaggy brown hair with salt and pepper streaks—too young to have hair like that.

“Uhh…thanks.  Here, I’ve got some water in the car,” he scooted to the passenger door, pulled it open, and grabbed a bottle.

“Do you need roadside assistance?” The car beeped at him.

“Y–ah….” He opened his mouth to respond.

“NO!” Sal shouted, wobbling to her feet.  He turned and looked at her.  “Thanks for the save there, um, what’s your name?”

He tossed her a bottled water, then pulled his glasses off and rubbed them on his shirt, “Dayle Isaac,”  He muttered.  “You sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance…?”

“Thanks Dayle.  I’m fine.”  She bent down and examined her bruised leg while looking at him.   Another car formation whooshed past.

Dayle was glancing around again.  “I’m heading down to a lecture in San Diego, can I drop you off somewhere?”

She unzipped her cargo pocket and pulled out the aluminum courier tube.  The readout read Caesar Lopez — Time Sensitive — 00:14:31 remaining.  Distance: 6.5 miles. She looked from the tube to her smoking Plank.  “Yea.  Would you mind?”  She attempted to smile, weakly.

“Hop in.”  He motioned to the open door as he walked around to the other side.

In the car, Dayle sat back and gave the autopilot commands.  Soon they were speeding down the freeway.  Sal stared out the window.  “Just hit the next exit,” she said.

________________________________

“You put the fate of this project in the hands of a skate courier?  Did you get package insurance?!”  Stevens whined sarcastically.  He coughed as he waved a receipt in the air, “this isn’t some high end computer hardware.  Do you know how much the shit will roll down if the prototype doesn’t make it to Caesar in one piece?”

Opposite from him in the brightly lit lab was Lily, his office manager.  Her brown skin looked a shade green in the light, but she didn’t flinch at his arm waving.  She scolded him right back, “Nick, I told you what they were when I signed the papers.  This company is owned by a good friend of mine.  They’re quick, easy, and grid-neutral.  Do you want safety or more feds breathing down your neck?”

Stevens threw the receipt on the desk and bent over a lab sink.  Turning on the faucet, he cupped some water in his hands and splashed his face.  Bending up and reaching for a towel, he said in a low voice and sighed, “Just…let me know when it gets there.”

Lily walked up to him and grabbed the receipt off the counter as she stink-eyed him, “Stay away from my desk, and don’t spam my phone when I’m at lunch unless it’s a real emergency, ok?!”  She turned and stormed out of the lab.  Stevens sighed again and loafed over to his projection chair.  He dialed in for Caesar.

Caesar’s head popped up on screen almost immediately, “What is it hombreeee?”  Caesar was typing and didn’t even look at him.

“Hello, uhhh…” Stevens stuttered.  “There should be a courier dropping off my prototype inside the half-hour.”

“Courier?  No me jodas cabron!”  Caesar stared at him now.  “What carrier?”

“Lily did it, ok?  I don’t know.  Some skate courier,” Stevens shook his head.

“You wan’ me to take care of them?”

“Only if you have to.  Lily’s clean, and she says the service is too.  Maybe you know them?  I didn’t catch the name…or I don’t think they have one.”

Caesar rubbed his forehead, “No worries.  You’re lucky I don’t have shit to do today.  I’ll take care of it.”

Caesar’s face blacked and the screen widened again.  Stevens reached to his ear as a drop of sweat ran down his neck.   He wondered if he had just signed some poor kid’s death warrant.

(image from narrativedesign.org)

NarrativeDesign.org has an amazing article on the evolving philosophy of games and narrative, and where it’s going from here.  It breaks down and identifies the foundation that we now stand on as we move forward.  Overall, we’re talking about the desire to give the player full interactive immersion through experience:

The video game industry now stands on a threshold, ready to create a new form of story, an interactive one. As video game products increase in diversification that new form exists, forming a yet to be named niche within the medium whose aim is dramatic play. It is at the intersections of interactive media, games, and drama that dramatic play exists. It’s been a long time coming; for over 150 years people have been trying to bring it forth. Heralding it most was Richard Wagner, ever famous German composer and theorist. He called this new form “Gesamtkunstwerk“, or ‘the total artwork’, the embodiment of all the arts into one fusion in which the fourth wall [screen] is dissolved and the spectator becomes actor-player.

Reading this gave me goosebumps.What strikes me about this is the ‘rabbit-hole’ level of depth here.  Movies don’t have this anymore.  Avatar was regarded as an envelope-pushing movie, and yet the viewer experience was marginally better (at best) than other epic-sized movies of similar class.  In other words, movie directors can achieve 90% of viewer immersion with a minimal amount of props and backdrop.  To achieve the other 10%, it requires more extras, and more complex mis en scene. Of course, there are directors like James Cameron who accomplish amazing cinematic illusion–circumventing a bad script with dizzying visual complexity.  However, not many others have that luxury.

‘Immersion’ in a movie sense is a loose term.  It has only been in isolated cases that movies have enabled audience participation, and then only by methods that ultimately sabotage the original goal, ejecting the audience from the story in order to ask them what they would like to do next.

It’s my belief that the biggest hurdle to immersion in the interactive media sense is input technology.  Game control systems have historically been the slowest in evolving.  An Xbox 360 controller now doesn’t look a whole lot different than the original NES controller from 25 years ago–just more buttons and movement sticks.

Control systems need to disappear entirely, or turn to such a natural way of input that it requires very little effort to learn.  Check out this video from Ted:

Imagine an entire manipulation system built upon tai chi or yoga.  Even this, though, doesn’t take the idea of immersion as far as it *could* go.

I’m not going to try to solve the rabbit hole in this post, but suffice to say, I’m part of a journey, and I’m excited to be here.

(This is a fan fiction story that fills in events occurring parallel to Halo 2’s first mission: Sierra 117.)

A Halo Universe Short Story

“Have you read the briefings on the Covvy’s?  I’ve been telling you, Harris, if you put in leave planetside, you likely won’t get your post back when you return.  There’s too many men tasting blood for your spot, capisce?”

Commander Joseph Nismuth stood leaning at the fishtank, dropping food inside.  He grabbed a small net, and fished out a dead Beta drifting at the top.

Captain Quinn S. Harris stood at attention, but stole a chance to frown and raise an eyebrow.  It seemed, in the UNSC’s desperation to replenish lost command-level officers after Reach, they were tossing unaccustomed deskpushers into field posts.  The Malta’s MAC gun hadn’t fired anything unscheduled for about 15 years.  Therefore, UNSC Command sent restless groundside weenies out here to stay out of the way while they grew some spacelegs.  Cairo, next door, was the cushy post, complete with Admiralty and ONI branch offices.  Nobody without the prescribed years in the field could take a post there without getting personal recommendation from either.

“Thank you, sir.  Permission to be dismissed, sir!”  Quinn saluted.  Nismuth waved his hand idly as he turned back to his computer.

“Oh, one more thing, Captain.”

“Sir?”

“I don’t need to remind you that the next monthly inspection is in 2 days?  Will the crew be ready?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“Thank you.”

The commander was a politician-turned-military.  He put on airs of authority, but he disliked one on one confrontations where he couldn’t march around.  Thus he found as many opportunities as possible for ‘inspections’ and formation drills where he could make speeches and impress the cameras.  He would often stump about ‘the Effort’ and ‘maintaining the plow by the sweat off our backs.’  As a result, the enlisted and most officers called him “Farmer Joe.”

Quinn marched out of the office and through the HQ bloc.  He was sick of this place.  The neutral gray colored walls, the grated flooring.  It was just on the cold side of comfortable all the time.  Not that MAC station architects knew anything about comfort.  The Malta packed a punch, but it was built without the intention of housing any important brass, so the operative philosophy became, “liveable.”

“This place is about as liveable as Farmer Joe’s outhouse.” Lieutenant Junior Grade Max Grady grimaced at Harris from the Hot Seat.  Grady was entertaining himself by running targeting simulations on Tahiti.  Quinn looked over his shoulder.

“My wife is down there,” Grady spat. “With Monsieur Lutz.  One more upgrade to the targeting software, and I can almost get a bead on his–“

“Out of my chair, Grady.” Quinn flipped his thumb over his shoulder.

“Sir, yes sir!  Lily’s still got some problems.  I’m gonna find the ASE and start scanning her hardware,” Grady added, and hopped down.

“Good idea.”

“Cheating bitch,” muttered Grady as he stomped away.

Quinn shook his head and climbed into the Hot Seat.  He put on his earpiece, “Hi Lily,” He said.

“Hello Captain Harris.  How are you today?” said an electronic female voice through his ear.

“I’m feeling about the same.  Did you get that problem fixed yet?”

“Hello Captain Harris.  How are you today?”

“Lily!”

“Hello Captai–I’ve been trying to isolate the anomaly.  Did you ask the commander about getting me a holo-repeater like Cortana has?”

“Just log me in, Lily.  Why don’t you ask him?”

“He’s cut me out of everything but the emergency channel.”

“Well, he does hate AI’s.”

“Everyone hates me.”

“Don’t say that, Lily.  I don’t hate you.  Why can’t you just be happy with what you have?”

“I have a twenty-four-thousand hertz voice emitter and a monochrome screen, Captain Harris.”

“Good God.  A vain AI.  I’ve seen everything.”

“Hello Captain Harris.  How are you–“

He pulled off his earpiece.  He couldn’t deal with her at the moment.  Quinn touched the keyboard and punched in for FLEETCOM.  He  glanced to the screen on his left and immediately saw a luminescent green figure, flanked by a white dress uniform.  He had heard things about the SPARTAN program.  He smirked, ONI never made it out to Malta to give seminars, and he felt out of the loop on much more public things than this.  So this is Spartan 117. The figure was flanked by a scarred and decorated Sergeant who smiled with the charm of a hand-grenade.  Finally, something slightly interesting to watch.  He forgot about the muted Lily and leaned back into his chair.

“HELLO CAPTAIN HARRIS. HOW – CAPTAIN HARRIS, MULTIPLE OBJECTS DETECTED…”

Quinn flinched and grabbed the earpiece.

“…on outer sensors.”

“Is it really necessary to broadcast that on station emergency channels?!”  Quinn exploded.  He quickly scanned the report.  “Fix that goddam’d glitch!”  There were a number of quickly moving figures on the outer rim.  It didn’t appear that their trajectories were directed at Earth.  “Notify Command anyway, Lily.”

“Yes Captain Harris.”

“Captain Harris, report!” barked Commander Nismuth over the com.

“Lily’s still got that glitch.  It looks like a cargo fleet.  My fault for disabling her vocals for a moment.”

“That’s court martial material, soldier.  Do I need to remind you of defense coordinator duties?”

“No sir!  Sorry, sir!”

“Now, if that glitch happens again, both of you are going to be transferred.  We can’t afford these kind of screw ups.”

“Yes sir!”

Quinn leaned back into his chair.  He rubbed his forehead and shook his head.

“Sorry Captain Harris.”

“How long have you been here, Lily?”

“Approximately four hundred, thirty five earth days.”

He remembered the day they installed Lily in place of Kilroy, the old AI.  She came in from a science recon vessel.  Quinn remembered the ship, a worn clunker that had lost its paint job on more than a few atmospheric entries.  The moment it docked at Malta, ONI spooks appeared and sealed off the bay.  The station had been screaming for a new AI, and Lily was brought on board to replace Kilroy.

“What do you think of your new responsibilities so far?  Different from the science projects?”

“The analysis is all the same, Captain Harris.  I look for anomalies in space and in lab samples with the same scrutiny.”

“But this isn’t science, this is military.”

“Hello Captain Harris.  How are you today?”

“Nevermind.”

Quinn turned his eyes back to the monitor.  He shook his head again.  Cairo Station got all the glory.  He looked up at his port window, and stared across at the pulsating lights of Cairo.  The stars behind twinkled with the slow weariness of space.

“Wha…?”

He glanced at his console.  There were several blips appearing on screen.  Nine, ten… Fifteen!  Big, too.  They were holding position just beyond MAC range.

“Lily!”

“They appear to be alien in design.”

“Shit!”

He reached up and hit the klaxon.

BOOM.  *reeeeee*

No sooner had his hand left the alarm, when new blips appeared on his screen.  Shit.

Another Boom.

The station rocked.  He hit the com switch.  “All hands, Battle Stations!  We have boarding parties inbound!  This is not a drill.  I repeat.  Battle Stations!”

“Harris!”  Farmer Joe was barking over the com.

“Sir!”

“Harris!  What the blue-balled hell is going on?”

“Covenant Sir!  A fleet just jumped into sector 085!”

No answer.  Quinn frowned and jumped back to the console.  Let him cower in his quarters.  It was probably better that way.

Within two minutes, lights were blinking across the board readouts.

“Proximity alert.  Ships approaching Cargo Bay C, D, and G on levels ten through seventeen,” Lily reported.

Well.  This is it.  I hope all those emergency drills pay off. Quinn began submitting an updated tactical report to coordinate a perimeter around the MAC gun’s magnetic generators.  As annoying as it was before, the maze of defensive corridors around the inner bulkhead seemed ingenious.  Those MAC gun eggheads… maybe they aren’t so bad after all. If anything, Malta was built like a mile high tank.

“Incoming transmission from Cairo, Captain Harris, zzttHow are you today?” Lily announced.

“Patch ‘em through!”

A gruff voice barked through the com.

“How’s it going Malta?”

“Stand by,” Quinn scanned the perimeter cameras.  As he watched, covenant ships were maneuvering against several airlocks on the central decks, others were already pouring soldiers into the central hangar, “They’re latched! Check your targets, watch the crossfire. They’re in standard formation, little bastards up front, big ones in back. Good luck, Cairo.”

Quinn took his hand off his earpiece. He glanced out his station porthole across to Cairo Station, and marveled sickeningly at the swarm of glittering purple shapes everywhere. The big cruisers are still out of range, but…maybe we could get a shot through a cluster of small ones?

“Lily, how’s our firing solution?”

“Operational, however we don’t have a clear target,” Lily reported.

Minutes ticked by.  Every once in a while he heard the echoes of plasma bursts answered with ballistics fire.  Checking the console, the Covenant were digging in, surrounded by UNSC forces in the central hangar.  Now… if they could just get some of those cruisers to move a little closer.

“Lily, can we transmit a counterfeit victory signal or something to the Covenant?   On an enemy transponder?  Get them in closer?” He mused.

“Unknown.  zzttHow are you today?” Lily was not helping.  Quinn began to wonder if she had more AI decay problems than just repeating herself.

Another explosion.  This time, the Deck Sergeant could be heard over the radio, “We just broke through their line!  They are retreating back to the mid-deck to regroup!  Keep up the pressure!  Jackson see if you can’t get to that pelican–!”

Quinn allowed himself a grin and a pumped fist.  Maybe the Covvy’s weren’t so tough!  They underestimated the resistance of the oldest MAC cluster in the fleet.  He buzzed the Commander.  No answer.  Is he still in his quarters?!

“Another incoming transmission from Cortana, Captain.”

“Patch ‘em in!”  Quinn shook his head as he watched the Covenant running frantically back through the airlocks.

Cortana’s alto voice was much more pleasant than Lily’s shrill soprano.  She came in stern, however, “Malta, what is your status?”

Quinn glanced at his screens one more time, shaking his head and smiling broadly, “I don’t believe it!  They’re retreating!  We won!”

He squinted at the screen.  As the covenant ships were pulling away, the marines in Cargo Deck C cautiously picked through debris as they slowly approached a strange, spiked probe lying among the debris.  That seems strange. He began to type out a requisition for ONI to come take a look–and was that thing blinking?

The next round of dialogue for the Nazi Zombies mode in Call of Duty: WaW is for Nikolai.  I love this character, because he is so unreasonably and stereotypically the drunken russian.  There’s no better character to write for, really.  Actually…now that I think about it, all of these characters are unreasonable stereotypes of the cultures they represent (omfg).

Here’s the bio for Nikolai from the Treyarch website:

Nikolai Belinski (RUS)

Stalin himself cannot stare Nikolai in the eye, no one can. For in his eyes you see the soul of a man burning with a hatred of all things living. His closet is full of skeletons, many of them with the flesh still attached. Before the war, Nikolai quickly made his way up through the party ranks by killing the next man in line, and by marrying politically. His aspirations all came crashing down after his fifth wife mysteriously died while cleaning Nikolai’s axe with her neck. Little did he know that she had been sleeping with a high ranking party official on the side. After her tragic demise, Nikolai’s reputation spread quickly through the party, and it wasn’t long before Stalin himself had heard about the psychopathic politician who killed anything that came within 5 feet of him. As soon as the war started, Nikolai was dropped at the front line and forgotten about, where he wallowed in self pity and Vodka for several years.

With many weapons in his arsenal, not least of which is his breath, Nikolai Belinski can look death in the eye and say “I know you”.

Player Gets a Crappy Gun from the Wall or Box

• Is this a gun or a toy?
• The stink of my shit would do more damage!
• Fucking weapons. Do you see why I drink?
• Aag! (exasperated) more running and less killing with this bullshit!
• (burp)bullshit this is (mumble)…

Player Gets a Machine Gun from the Wall or Box

• Comrades, get behind me,(fart) but don’t breathe in.
• This thing is noisier than my third wife!
• I will cut them in two!
• What is…Oh it’s a machine gun! Hah!
• Good. No more of this aiming shit.
• Four and a half vodka bottles in length. This will do.
• Now I can relax. Who’s thirsty?!

Player Gets a Ray Gun from the box

• Small. Hope I don’t lose this thing.
• Green crazy shit makes me dizzy.
• Morons made gun out of Bolshevik toilet parts.
• Embarrassing, but deadly.
• I dreamt about this in a coma I had recently.

Player Gets a Flamethrower from the Box

• I should spike my vodka with this.
• Good, I am lazy. Enough precision.
• Huddle together demons! I will warm you up!
• What if I burn myself?
• This stream does not gurgle Hellpigs!
• Ready for a russian bath?! Hahahahah!

Player Gets a Shotgun from the Wall or Box

• Deadpigs, lets have shot together. HAH!
• Lets see if I remember how to reload this shit.
• Yeesss. A lazy weapon. Point and shit!
• Come closer dogs! I won’t miss that way…
• Pieces fly, I reload. Repetitive? Who cares!?
• Two handed weapon…Someone carry my bottle!

Here’s some of the actual dialogue from Nikolai:

The Nazi Zombies mod for Call of Duty: World at War features a ton of quips and sayings from the main characters shown above.  Here’s a series of dialogue lines I wrote for Dempsey.  (These are my own, and not actually part of the game itself).

Btw, before we get started, here’s his Bio from the Treyarch website:

Tank Dempsey (USA)Tank Dempsey: American hero. Give him a loaded weapon, a good woman, and something to shoot at and he’s happy. Cross him and he’ll rip your guts out and use them as a bandolier. Dempsey was selected for this mission after he showed his true grit at the battle for Peleliu. His unit was captured during the early raids before the main invasion, and he spent 2 weeks in a rat infested bamboo cage submerged in malarial water. Eventually, he gnawed his way through the cage, and then gnawed his way through his captors armed only with a Bobby pin and his Medal of Honor which he keeps secreted in various body cavities. There is no before the war for Dempsey, there is no after. There is only the legend of Tank Dempsey, and how he won the war for the rest of us.

Leaving behind a wake of destruction and meat sacks wherever he goes, Dempsey is the man to have on your side when faced with an undead apocalypse.

Player Gets a Crappy Gun from the Wall or Box

• I’ve got grenades, and I’m all outta toothpicks you fucking box.
• Hey Richtofen!  Got a gun just for you.
• A knife is all I need anyway.
• Oh look!  The wundershit woopty fuckin’ gun of crappola.
• Let’s get this P.O.S. upgraded.
• Perfect–for givin’ slackjaws a manicure.

Player Gets a Machine Gun from the Wall or Box

• Time to pop some head-corn!
• Say cheese, kids!
• Take a breather fellas, Daddy’s got his gun.
• Big. Loud–s’how I like em.
• Hope they like their walls painted dead.
• Point and pull the trigger, my kind of toy.
• (moan) ra-tatata! (moan) ra-tatata! HA HA HA (mocking zombies)
• Hail to the chief–Me!  Oo-Ra!
• Nothin’ but lead.

Player Gets a Ray Gun from the Box

• Pew pew mother fuckers!
• Carnage that fits in your pocket.  Hell Yea.
• I guess size DOESN’T matter.
• Ain’t lead–but I ain’t complaining either.
• Green plus Red equals Dead.
• This pea-shooter’s gonna tear flesh!

Player Gets a Flamethrower from the Box

• Fry em up and break out the beer!
• Try’n bite me with a mouth full of ash!
• Cleanin’ time Zombies! Come getchur napalm bath!
• Fire never felt so good.
• Flaming Slackjaws! My favorite!
• Can I get a light? HAH!

Player Gets a Shotgun from the Wall or Box

• Swiss-Zombie. My favorite cheese.
• Boom! Dead. Boom! Dead. Ha Ha!
• I’m about to put some gauge in your gut!
• Janitor ain’t gonna be happy when I’m done here.
• Boomstick, meet zombie face.
• Slappy’s gonna be all moan and no limbs!
• Blood ‘n guts at point-blank. Let’s Dance!

Player Gets a Sniper Rifle from the Box

• Heheh, let’s see if I can get a 3 for 1.
• Like shootin’ crap in a zombie barrel.
• Deadly at any distance, Oo-ra.
• See if you maggot-sacks can slap me now!
• Headshot! Hah, just practicin’.
• Everything looks deader through a scope.

Player Gets a 357 Magnum from the Box

• Hey Nikolai! Wanna play some Russian roulette?
• Heh. What do six slackjaws have in common?
• Run ‘n gun time!
• Call me Wyatt Fucking Earp, shit-bags!
• Pile up the maggot sacks, six at a time.

Player kills 8 Zombies in 5 Seconds

• Message for ya Zombies! Eat shit and die.
• Freaks are sprayin’ all over the place! Don’t Slip!
• Didn’t coach tell ya not to play bunch ball?!
• Line ‘em up like a dead chorus-line! Hah!
• Shit-suckers!
• Nightmares, meet your worst Nightmare. ME!
• Hey Nikolai, looks like I just won that bet!
• Now that’s something to write home about!
• I just tore ‘em a whole shitload of new ones!
• Hah! I just killed a metric fuck-ton of meat bags.
• Can’t you dead meats move any faster?
• Making zombie stew with lead seasoning!
• Too easy!
• Dead again! You slackjaws got it rough!

Player Gets a Headshot from Far Away

• Did that one with my eyes closed!
• Cha-Ching!
• Another notch on the ol’ gun barrel.
• I’m gonna shit down your neck!
• He’s down! I mean… Dead! Hah!
• Your face was just cleaned by Dempsey!
• Popped like a melon!
• Killed in the line of me!
• Boom! Haha! From about thirty yards!
• Smile, meat sack!

Player Kills a Zombie Up Close

• Back in your hole!
• Anyone got a washcloth?
• Gimme a hug now, filth for brains!
• More meat for the dogs!
• Splatter got in my eye!
• Plenty more where that came from shit brains!
• The closer you get, the deader you’ll be!

Player is Almost Out of Ammo

• Ammo’s out! Where’s that damn box!?
• Gotta find some more boomstick juice.
• Fun’s over. Need bullets!
• Why can’t they make a bigger clip for this thing?
• I’ll take their heads off by hand!

Player is Revived by Another Player

• Nothin’ but a scratch!
• Just takin’ a quick breather.
• I’m gonna tear them apart!
• Don’t get any ideas.
• You should see the freakmeat that did this to me.

Player Gets a Teddy Bear out of the Box

• (growl) Bad time, Teddy.
• I’m gonna wipe that giggle off your box.
• Damn! Almost had a good gun.
• Soon as I find you, you’re nothing but stuffing!
• Teddy Bear again?! Fuck!

(Here’s some actual dialogue from the game)