Now Loadin’ 2-14: Making Childhood Obesity Fun Again (brought to you by Sour Patch Kids)

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In this week’s podcast:

  • Chas goes to the donut shop to trade used games, ends up being sexually assaulted
  • Dave introduces Halo 4 Neon
  • Chas builds a PC for Diablo III
  • Dave’s questionable RPG priorities stupefy Chas
  • Chas wants to shout nonsense at his TV (thanks Kinect!)
  • Dave buys the exact same game twice on the exact same TV
  • Chas writes and narrates his very own Zelda fan fiction:

Meeting the Old Man
by Chas

Suddenly you wake up in the wilderness. The blackness disappears, violently ripped from your eyes. You’re on your back, your clothes damp and covered in leaves. A chunk of clumped dirt falls from your arm as you shift on the ground. Beyond your clothing, only a piece of lumber separates you from destitution. Confused you quickly spring to your feet and observe your surroundings. How did you get there? Or even more so, who are you? Your mind races to reassemble disparate memories but suddenly a shiver rattles from your arms straight down to your feet. You realize how cold it is, your breath visible. You scan the surrounding area to see a few steep mountains, too steep to climb, a field spotted with aging oak trees and then finally, a cave! Shelter, you think to yourself. You grab the lumber and sprint for the cave. As you reach the cave’s mouth you look into the cave. It is an absolute void, impossible to see what’s inside. You enter.

The cave is barely lit, two fires in the center of the room cast an orange glow on a decrepit old man. He’s standing, motionless, as if propped up on stick. The red glow from the fire shimmers on his bald head and bleeds down his face into his white, flowing beard. He stares in your direction but not at you. Even his red gown seems fixed in time, the breeze from the cave door skitters across the floor but doesn’t move his heavy velvet robe.

As you get closer, you can see the wisdom in his craggy, pale face. Perhaps he can explain why you are here, where you may have came from and perhaps even moreso, who you are?
You speak to him quietly. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence and says nothing back. You look into his eyes: lifeless, pale blue eyes with a chalky grey speckling as if they had just been ripped from a block of ice.


You stumble backwards at the bombastic bellowing of his voice. Tripping over your own feet you fall to the cave floor. The floor is completely black, a porous shimmering surface. It’s clear there’s recent volcanic activity in the nearby area. As you rise to your feet you notice a sword resting on the ground by the old man. It’s a simple weapon, it looks very heavy, likely cut from one of the nearby oak trees. You look back at the old man. Once again he’s still. You walk slowly to the sword. Is this what the old man wants you to take? Again you look in his direction but receive no action or acknowlegement. You reach down, pick up the sword. It’s suprisingly light, this is a lighter wood than in the surrounding forest. Oak? Chestnut? Impressed by its craftsmanship you dramatically host the sword into the air. Music blares out of the sky. A cacophony of trumpets and xylophones, as if the Angels were hosting a grade school band concert. What kind of magic is this? Is this a trap? Instinctively you race for the exit, wooden sword in hand.

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