I’m Gossi the Dog – the foremost proponent of games industry gossip. Once again this week I’ve kept my patella (ear) to the ground to see what I can pick up on the vine of the "grapes".
Hold onto your patella (flanks), everyone – this zestful dirty linen is going to ruin your patella (day)! Bark!
My spies tell me that a certain Satoru Iwata – CEO of Nintendo – has been spending a little too much time away from the office in recent months.
Word at Nintendo HQ (a dormant volcano, decorated in a style I believe is called "boho chic") is that Satoru – or “Sats” as friends like to call him – has been busy in the back garden of his Kyoto mansion, building a large nest from old car parts, mittens, and the pungent biofluids of his personal puffin.
People fear that Iwata has become obsessed with the notion that he’s gravid, and – as soon as he reaches a viable gestational age – will lay between eighty eight and one thousand eggs.
His colleagues have tried everything to dissuade him of the notion, but that hasn’t stopped Iwata from preparing for what he believes will soon be a bounteous litter containing potentially hundreds upon hundreds of pulsating maggot babies, each one sporting a different part of his face, the 3DS XL logo, and a thick crop of ginger hair.
Iwata is reported to have told a colleague: "I can't wait to suckle them, and for them to be old enough to play air hockey with me, their papa."
Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time Iwata believed he was going to be a father – on three previous occasions he spent six months trying to incubate a pillow, under the mistaken conclusion that he must have laid it during his sleep. He even chose names for his assumed offspring: Tony, Tony-Bellingham, and Old Zealand.
Sony president and CEO Kaz Hirai is currently causing concern at Sony HQ (a giant ceramic lozenge on stilts, built atop an old Indian burial ground with the specific intention of invoking a curse), as he struggles to deal with the recent hack attack on Sony's servers.
Eyewitness have told me he's taken to slithering around the building on his stomach, gnashing his teeth, and lashing out at passing subordinates with a disposable razor.
One employee told me that she attempted to use a photocopier last week, but when she lifted the lid of the machine Hirai was lurking inside, his wheezing, pallid face pressed against the glass. Another alleges that he was approached in the men's toilets by Hirai - who was naked from the waist down, covered in talcum powder, and taking alternate, angry bites from a couple of chicken Kievs.
Workers are doing their best to ignore his behaviour and adopt a business-as-usual approach, but the CEO is making it increasingly difficult. His latest display of erratic motion saw him summon all staff to a meeting, whereupon he threatened them to make them all lick an old blank CD he'd found in the park that morning.
Gabe Newell, boss of Valve, is trying to put the recent Steam game-pulling controversy behind him, but the stress of it all is starting to take its toll, so I'm told.
Colleagues at Valve HQ (a big, brown tent hidden in a cave behind a magic waterfall that only appears once every 300 years) recently witnessed their boss running barefoot around the staff carpark at high speed.
When asked if everything was ok, Newell attempted to vault over a nearby hedge, but only succeeded in tumbling headfirst into a floral edging.
Onlookers tell me that he lay there weeping loudly for almost half an hour. They eventually encouraged him to return to the office, with the promise that there was a friendly bear waiting for him.
When Newell ultimately realised this was nothing but a deception, and that a bear wasn't waiting for him, he started punching his desk, threatening to fire everyone in the company before later hunting them down and filling their holes with muffin crumbs. Eventually, the company's chief medical officer, a robotic surgeon called Kal-Klak, had to sedate him.
Insiders assure me that Newell slept soundly that night, dreaming of friendly bears, and a world where he is the all-powerful descendent of The Beggeters - the slender, peaceful progenitors of our species. In his dreams, Newell reportedly brought enduring peace to our planet, before his life was cruelly ended when his parent species' nemesis, The Harbinger of Dissolution, choked him on a fistful of dirty wool.