Back in the day, when I wrote for Top Mega Top Top Gaming Top Mega Top Monthly, I was known to be the most hardcore journalasmist around. There wasn't a single person I interviewed who I didn't make cry. Developers. Publishers. Graphics artists. Fat people.
I was awesome at it. And at all other things. Recently, I've seen a lot of pretenders to my games journalislamist crown having a pop at games developers for some reason. I can't be arsed to look up why - I've pictures of my cool nightclub exploits to upload to my cool gaming blog - but it looks like it's something really bad or something. Well, I'm gonna show 'em how it's done.
Unfortunately, I don't have no games developer's numbers, so I've had to imagine what it would be like to interview one of them. But because I've got an excellent imagination - the top imagination in all of games journalasm - this is exactly what it would be like if I was to interview someone called something like "Perris Moyne".
"PERRIS MOYNE": Pardon? What did you say?
CYBER-X: I said - why did you invent wasps?
"PERRIS MOYNE": What?
CYBER-X: Wasps. Everyone hates wasps, Perris. They just fly around and do stinging. What did you invent them for?
"PERRIS MOYNE": I didn't. I don't think I did. I mean - what? Wasps? Why would I invent wasps? I mean... I don't have time to invent wasps, because my wife is always shouting at me. I spend most of my time - in the two seconds a day when I'm not working really hard - literally trying to pacify her. I have to coo and brush her hair gently, and still sometimes she continues shrieking while I'm doing that. She doesn't even say anything: it's just wordless rage.
CYBER-X: Well, somebody had to have invented wasps, Perris. They didn't come from nowhere. I am putting it to you that you invented wasps because you wanted people to get stung and have their picnics ruined. You built a magic kiln, and you baked The King of the Wasps in it, and all the other wasps came out of his mouth. At first it was only one or two wasps a minute, but before long there was a massive cone of wasps gushing forth from between his yellow and black lips. Zillions of them. What did you do that for? What did you bake The King of the Wasps for? You must've known what would happen.
"PERRIS MOYNE": I didn't. I mean... Why would I do that? If I was going to invent anything, it would be a sort of special noise-dampening barrier, so I didn't have to hear my wife screaming at me. Also, a robotic duplicate of me, so he could go to my son's school open evening for me. I'd love to be able to do that - actually, I AM going to do that. I'm going to release a special robot duplicate of me, and it's going to be even better than me, with realistic hair and everything. It's going to walk round the streets, dispensing Lucozade and magical bronze coins. I guarantee that's going to happen.
CYBER-X: What about 9/11?
"PERRIS MOYNE:": What about it?
CYBER-X: Why did you do it, you horrible psychopath?
"PERRIS MOYNE": Why did I do 9/11? What are you talking about?
CYBER-X: Excuse me?! Hello? You did it right after you invented wasps. You invented wasps, and then did 9/11. Don't bother denying it.
"PERRIS MOYNE": I don't... what? That's ridiculous. How could I... please don't hit me. Please, I'm just an ickle boy.
CYBER-X: Stop avoiding the questions, Perris. Did you or did you not cause 9/11?
"PERRIS MOYNE": Of course not. How could I? It's not in my nature to do stuff like terrorist atrocities. I just want to develop games. I love developing games. I've even been developing one while we've been talking - it's called Ultra Game 43 and it's going to have this amazing feature in which you get to experience exactly what it's like to see the Renaissance through the eyes of a horse. Literally a real horse. Every copy of the game is going to come packaged with an actual brown horse, and players will be able to slither inside it and see through its eyes using a special crystal lens.
CYBER-X: Look, it's a reasonable question, Perris. Were you the one who caused 9/11? Did you do that, and did you then, through your own incompetence, travel back in time and deliberately give birth to Hitler?
"PERRIS MOYNE": How could I have... what?? Why are you blaming me for all this? What have I done to deserve this? If you want me to admit to birthing Hitler then ok - I birthed Hitler. But, look, ok then... ok, I admit it. Is that what you want? Do you want me to tell you that I'm literally giving birth to another Hitler right now as we talk? Well I am. It's a sort of Mega-Hitler - because the old Hitler was rubbish and a disappointment, and didn't have many of the features I wanted him to have, and was evil, which I regret. I admit to that. But now, as this new Hitler emerges from my uterus, I see that he will have four noses and a tentacle coming out of the top of his head, that flops around when he rants and stomps. It's going to be amazing and not evil. It'll be a much kinder Hitler.
CYBER-X: "Wah wah! I didn't give birth to Hitler! I didn't cause 9/11! I didn't do wasps! Waaaah! I'm just a big idiot." SHUT-UP, PERRIS. People are sick of your excuses. They're sick of your lies. They hate you. Everyone hates you. They hate you so much they're walking around vomiting ALL THE TIME because they can't get you out of their heads. Stop deliberately haunting their thoughts.
"PERRIS MOYNE": Well, I'm sorry they feel that they hate me -
CYBER-X: They don't feel that they hate you. They actually do hate you. They hate you because you're singlehandedly responsible for cancer. Everyone knows that. It was agreed upon at a meeting.
"PERRIS MOYNE": What? That's not - I don't - what meeting?
CYBER-X: Just admit it. When you were a child, you were playing in your back garden, and you did a poo in the sandpit, and cancer came out of it, and spread all round the world. You could've trapped it, and put it back up your bum, Perris, but through your selfish choices - nobody else's choices, Perris - you allowed cancer to escape from your bum and become a thing that people get. Don't even try to dodge this one. Just own up to it.
"PERRIS MOYNE": I'm not going to own up to something I didn't - I mean... I don't have time to do poos. Even as a kid I was too busy making games to defecate, because I love making games, and sometimes I get so excited about making games that I start clapping and shaking my head from side to side while humming, and don't stop for up to a week. It takes up all my time. I'm too profoundly constipated to do cancer poos. Ask my doctor. Come with me next time I see my doctor and ask him yourself. He'll tell you.
CYBER-X: I don't want to ask your doctor if you're constipated, Perris. Just apologise for all the bad things you've been responsible for.
"PERRIS MOYNE": Please. Please stop being horrible to me. My doctor said I shouldn't be subjected to any more criticism, because it might kill me. He really did say that, honest. He said that if I get criticised it could make an embolism happen in my brain. But he promised me that it'll be the most awesome embolism of all time; when it happens my head will explode, and a hundred doves will fly out, singing "Stop In The Name of Love".
CYBER-X: OWN UP TO EVERYTHINGI! DO THAT NOW!! DO IT!! DO AS I SAY!!!
"PERRIS MOYNE": What are all those bad crashing sounds?
CYBER-X: That's me. I'm smashing up my house, Perris. I'M SMASHING IT UP, BECAUSE I'M SO ANGRY WITH YOU. A lot of people are angry with you, Perris - and THEY'RE ALL SMASHING UP THEIR HOUSES BECAUSE OF YOU. It's awful. It's the most awful situation I could conceive of. It's literally beyond my ken. Or anyone's ken.
"PERRIS MOYNE": I'm sorry about that, but - oh god. I've started crying. I'm crying really badly. Sob sob sob. I'm crying so hard I've literally cried my intestines and lungs out through my tear ducts. They're hanging down the front of my body. I can see them. My guts are all tear-stained.
CYBER-X: I don't care about that. Nobody does.
"PERRIS MOYNE": Come here and see them then. I'm inviting you to see my guts hanging out of my eyes. Come here and I'll prove to you I'm telling the truth. You'll see all the tears on my lungs and intestines for yourself. I'll even let you touch them and waggle them. Wagglewagglewaggle.
CYBER-X: I'm not coming there, Perris. I don't want to waggle your guts.
"PERRIS MOYNE": Well... how about... we could run away together. We could go on a caravan holiday for a week. You'll see what a lovely guy I am. I honestly am - ask my doctor. He literally diagnosed me with loveliness, and said that my wife should stop being horrible to me and doing all the screaming. When I'm brushing my teeth, she lays down outside the bathroom door and screams under the crack in the door.
CYBER-X: Let's talk about you stealing money from children.
"PERRIS MOYNE": I didn't steal money from children. Whaaaaaa? As if! <FLUTTERS EYELIDS>
CYBER-X: You said - and I quote - "I've become the new Tooth Fairy, but instead of taking the teeth and leaving some money, I'm just going to break into houses and ransack them and steal all the cash I can find". That's what you said, Perris. Those are your words.
"PERRIS MOYNE": Ok. I may have said something like that -
CYBER-X: You said exactly that. I have a print-out.
"PERRIS MOYNE": But what you've left out is that I whispered in the children's ears as they slept. I said "Sssh! Sleep well, my pretty. I am stealing the money, but I will spend it on something glorious - a golden monument that will scrape the moon".
CYBER-X: And did you build the monument?
"PERRIS MOYNE": Well, no...
CYBER-X: So where's the money?
"PERRIS MOYNE": Dunno. Probably ate it. Oh no! I've just been bitten by a dog! Ow, ow, ow! It really hurts. It hurts so bad I'm crying again. It just came out of nowhere, and bit me. That's the fifth time this week this has happened. That's probably my fault too isn't it? That's probably what you think. You probably think I made the dog bite me. Well I'll give you a key to my house, and you can come here and watch me 24 hours a day. Even when I'm sleeping. You'll see how often that I get bitten by a dog that comes out of nowhere. You'll see. YOU'LL ALL SEE! That's why I'm inventing a new type of anti-dog spray that's going to taste like champagne, and when you spray it at dogs they turn into tiny plastic replicas of famous bridges.
CYBER-X: Perris Moyne... thank you.
"PERRIS MOYNE": Byeeeeeeee!
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