Because we are such a loving community of video game bloggers, we here at Word of the Nerd Video Game Division decided to set one another up with blind dates with various video game characters.
Things did not go well.
Ed. Note: Natasha was unable to complete her date with Kratos of God of War, as he slaughtered everyone in the Chili’s parking lot and was last seen fleeing from the police.
Rebecca‘s Date with Tychus Findlay of Starcraft
I arranged to meet Tychus Findlay at a swanky bar. I’ve never played the Starcraft series of games, so only Natasha knew what I was in for.
He arrived late and smelled like he’d bathed in whiskey and Axe body spray, then rolled around in cigar butts for good measure. He was a good two feet taller than me and at least three times as wide, all muscle behind massive Marine armor. I’ve done worse. I waved him over with a grin, and assumed that it wasn’t disappointment I saw in his gaze. My first mistake of the evening.
“You’re Becky?” he grunted.
“Yes! And you must be Tychus!” I extended my hand, which he took as an invitation to stare down my shirt. I forged ahead with polite conversation, “I have to confess, I never played Starcraft-“
His steely gaze snapped back up to my face and his eyes narrowed. “You never played my game?”
“Well, no, but-“
“What kinda games you play? Happy Lady Princess Ponies?”
I blinked at him, “No. No, I’m actually a big fan of Mass Effect, so-“
“Ain’t that the game that lets you screw aliens?” His face hardened even more, lips turned up in a sneer.
“You… certainly have the option to develop a romance with an alien, yeah, but-“
“Did YOU screw an alien?”
I sucked my lips into my mouth and stared up at him wide eyed. “I don’t feel comfortable answering that question.”
Findlay snorted and waved to the bartender. “Your tits are smaller than I thought they’d be. You’re payin’ for this, right?”
I sat back down again slowly. “I… thought we’d go dutch.”
“Is that what you thought? That’s cute.” The bartender poured Findlay five fingers of whiskey, and he downed them in quick succession. I, meanwhile, planned my escape. Of course, I still attempted conversation. I asked him what kind of music or art he enjoyed, and his answer was that he liked using skulls and his boot to make “Horshack” ink blots out of brain matter.
Finally, he stood up and shifted from foot to foot, “I’m gonna hit the head. You stay put, sweetheart.”
I gave him a mock salute as he wove his way through the bar and out of sight. Okay. I was sticking this asshole with the bill, that was for damn sure. I slipped my coat on and fumbled for my purse where it had been hooked on the back of my chair.
Where was my purse?
It was gone. So was my wallet, my car keys, and, as I soon discovered, my car. The walk home was spent planning my revenge on Natasha. I wonder what Leisure Suit Larry’s plans are for next Valentine’s Day?
Scott‘s Date with Harley Quinn of Arkham City
She looks nice…
I like to think I’m an open-minded kind of guy. A keen judge of character, a good listener, able to see the best and the worst in people. There are, I’m sure, plenty of people like me, and though we might be a little more accepting than the average schmuck walking down the streets of Gotham, we have our limits. Mine turned out to be a girl in clown makeup.
Trust me when I say this, I’m not pulling out the old “she put on a bit of eye-shadow, clearly she’s a hooker” trope. This was actual, bona fide, P.T. Freaking Barnum clown makeup. Or juggalo makeup, I wasn’t quite sure. That said, I didn’t have a whole lot to complain about past the clown business. I won’t go into detail, but not all of the stares she drew were directed at her face.
So rather than turn and high-tail it, as the vast majority of my brain was frantically yelling at me to do, I decided to stick around. I figured there was a chance it could actually end well, and if not, at least I’ll have a good story to tell. One of those proved to be true.
We sat down at a little diner nearby, one of those places where you know all the people working there, and they’re usually happy to see you. I figured I might want to be on home turf with this one. We ordered, got to the “getting-to-know-you”s and “what do you do”s. Till now she hadn’t spoke much, and when she did…phew. It sounded like the collective spirits of Fran Drescher and Marisa Tomei got in a shouting match inside her vocal cords. She kept going on and on about a “Mr. J,” and every time it came out “Mistah Jay.” I assumed it was the name of her cat, although I secretly hoped it wasn’t… because if it’s a cat, then she really likes that cat. Always “doing jobs” for him (sorry, “jahbs”), making sure he’s safe even though he ignores her. From what I could gather he’s either a psychopath or a cat. Probably both.
She REALLY didn’t like that salad.
The girl ate like a possessed five-year old. She looked at the side salad as if it actually offended her, threatened the waiter with a friggin’ baseball bat until he replaced it with an ice cream sundae (the perfect accoutrement for a 20 oz. Porterhouse, of course). It felt like I was in Hell’s own personal little league, and I was the one who had to play catcher.
After the she-beast decided she was satisfied, we took off to her “secret” meeting place near the docks. Normally this would set off a red flag as big as China’s with me, but she made the excellent point that we’d be dealing with the cops very soon if we didn’t split. She didn’t seem too bothered by the prospect, though…in her words she’d “killed plenty’o cops this month, and I don’t feel like washing the blood outta my stockings again.” Cue roughly Gibraltar-sized rock in my throat.
I’d recount the rest of the night for you if I could remember it. All I remember is walking into an industrial complex and a large *thud*. I’m typing this into my phone right now, which Harley was nice enough to let me hold onto. It’s a bit tough with my hands tied to this furnace, but luckily the throbbing headache I’m dealing with is taking my mind off the ropes. Now, what’s the Batman’s number again?
Sean‘s Date with Instructor Mooselini of PaRappa the Rapper
Being set up on a blind date by Scott had me worried. My worst fears came true when I discovered that he set me up with a moose. A rapping, police moose.
Keeping an open mind (against my better judgement), I decided to take her somewhere she would be more comfortable, since blind dates can be scary or awkward . So we went to a karaoke bar. It was fun. We had some drinks, I offered to share my burger and fries with her, but she was content to gnaw on the table (literally).
After a few more drinks we were confident enough to get up on stage and have an epic karaoke rap battle. She kept rapping about driving and every day tasks. I, however, opted for more sensational songs like: Hypnotize by Notorious BIG, Changes by Tupac and for some Canadian Flare, Crew Love by Drake ft. The Weekend. The crowd went wild for my performance and, of course, my swag. But my date took offense for not having the high score in the end. She wanted to leave, which in all honesty was a relief since I was not feeling any sort of connection, at all. But seeing as it was very early, and I am nothing if not a gentleman, I tried to convince her to stick around for a while, maybe catch a movie. But she was not interested (from the beginning I could tell she was bull headed). So we parted ways.
In the end I was happy. Just meant I could get back home to see if my online girlfriend Cortana wanted to have a Skype Date.
Jack‘s Date with Little Sister of Bioshock
This is my first time in Rapture and I’m impressed so far. All the glitz and glamour of the surface world but with none of the hassle.
I take a seat at the bar, Bill McDonagh greets me warmly. I think he’s just pleased to meet a fellow Englishman for the first time in a while. I take a swig of some 123 Beer, trying to ease my nerves. I’m nervous but when Atlas asked if I would kindly take his little sister on a date, I couldn’t say no.
That’s when I saw her come around the corner. But it’s not his little sister. Oh no. She’s a Little Sister. She’s tiny, cute and with bright eyes you can’t say no to. She asks for a lolly as I pull out a stool for her. I turn and ask Bill if he has any lollipops.
“I’ll see what I can get ya, Jack!” he chuckles as he goes in to the store room, momentarily. I take another swig of my drink and look around to see some leadhead trying to get the vending machine to work.
The Little Sister stares up at me and grabs my attention, snapping me away from the trouble maker in the corner.
“So…” I say awkwardly, trying to break the ice and kill the time until Bill gets back. “What do you do for a living?”
“Gathering the ADAM, the ADAM, the ADAM…” she sings back at me.
I laugh, she’s surprisingly in tune.
“What do you do Mister -”
“Two lollipops coming right at ya!” The owner’s Cockney drawl interrupts her. She doesn’t even notice his being rude, her eyes were instantly transfixed on the sweets.
“One for you little miss and one for your teddy, of course!” Bill was always better with kids than I was. I’m disappointed I didn’t get a lolly though.
“Yummy in my tummy!” she squeaks as she unwraps the sweet and pops it in her mouth. “Are you proud of me Mr B?” she asks turning her attention back to me.
That’s not my name but it all feels very natural for some reason. “I sure am, honey.” I reply without thinking.
“Can we go to see the Angels now, Mr Bubbles?” Once again, I don’t react to this strange nickname. I don’t know why. I nod silently.
As I stand and turn to leave, she leaps from her stool to my shoulder. It all just feels right.
“Would you kindly finish your drink before you leave?” Bill chirps in, breaking my daze.
I shake my head, finish my 123 and rest the glass on the table.
“Don’t be a slow poke Mr B. Angels don’t wait for slow pokes!” a small voice on my left shoulder hurries me on to leave The Fighting McDonagh’s Tavern.
As we leave, I don’t think of her as my date. She’s my Little Sister and I’m her Big Daddy.
