Saturday, 22 October 2011

#29 The Rapture: For Real This Time, Honest

Yesterday was the day of the rapture. Harold Camping was finally vindicated, and the righteous were bodily lifted into the heavens, leaving us poor damned wretches behind. At least, that’s what I assume happened. To be totally honest, since I started freelancing I’ve not been getting out much, and don’t check the news all that often. Still, odds are Harold Camping was right- having predicted the apocalypse previously on 1994 and May 21st this year he would have to really suck to have got it wrong a third time (EDIT: As of press time the rapture has been extended to sunset in Jerusalem on the 22nd of October).
No harm in having a margin for error
So, while I haven’t turned on the telly or checked twitter to see if it’s really happened, I’m going to assume that all the Christians in the world have now been raptured away. After all, if God’s selection criteria for eternal paradise depends on your cultural background, upbringing, life circumstances and arbitrary gut feelings leading you to the right belief system, it’s only fair the God would spread a pretty wide net. It doesn’t matter that most Christians probably didn’t believe Harold Camping’s predictions or that the entire concept of the rapture only really dates back to the 19th century. It only makes sense that Fred Phelps, Rowan Williams, Stephen Colbert and Desmond Tutu have all gone to the same place, and to be fair, that’s a dinner party I’d pay real money to sit in on.

This leaves those of us left behind in an uncertain and terrifying world. The atheists among us are no doubt arguing that their Christian brothers and sisters were actually kidnapped by aliens and the Jewish and Muslim peoples are kicking themselves that they missed the right answer by one book.

But it’s time for us to move on. The creators of the Left Behind series have left us a wonderful “How To” video by the fictional PastorVernon Billings. But I’m sceptical about this (which admittedly, is how a lot of us got into this mess), since Vernon himself is pretty confident he wasn’t going to be here to deal with the world’s post-rapture consequences.

So here are some more practical tips for us as we move forward and try to reconstruct our society.

Tip One: Repurpose the Churches
Let’s face it, churches are great buildings. They look pretty and they are built to last.
You just can't get the medieval peasants anymore
In my adopted city of Norwich we had already made a good start on this before the rapture. We’ve something of an excess of churches, so we use the spares for things like puppet theatres and art centres while down in London they’ve converted a church into a pretty decent pub. These are lovely buildings and it’s a shame that non-believers have only ever been able to use them for family weddings and funerals. We’ll need to fix the heating and install some more comfortable chairs, obviously.

Tip Two: Do Away with Christmas
Finally! We can achieve what atheists, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists and Scientologists have dreamed of for centuries. We can do away with Christmas and establish Secular Gift Giving Day- a task we’ve had our best minds working on for years.

Once and for all we can replace tinsel, decorated trees, turkey, Santa Claus and watching The Great Escape with things that have nothing to do with Christianity!

And while we’re getting our hidden agendas out of the way-

Tip Three: Marry Your Pets
For as long as there have been people campaigning for the right of gay people to marry, there have been people saying that this will open the door to incestual and bestial marriages. Campaigners such as Rick Santorum who campaign on their Christian beliefs.

With them finally out of the way, we can end the subterfuge and legalise marrying both pets, and relatives. A generation from now our grandchildren will be able to do both at the same time.

Tip Four: Enjoy it While it Lasts
Yes, our new world of secular holidays, Starbucks cathedrals and dog/human hybrid cousins marrying each other is a glorious place and I’m sure we’re all going to have a great time. But you must enjoy it while you can, because on the 21st (for some reason it’s always the 21st) of December next year we’re due to get obliterated by the 2012 prophecy.

And if anyone thinks that I’ve been offensive to Christians in this blog, you just wait until you see the burns I’ve got prepared for the ancient Mayan religion!
Quetzalcoatl love, you've pulled!

Tuesday, 27 September 2011

Competition Time: See Dawn of the Dead in a Shopping Mall!

So, this month of crazy busy continues, and in between suddenly and unexpectedly finding myself house hunting (None of these placesare within my budget), my actual job, and an exciting Chris Writes About the End of the World related event next month, I’m having to come up with yet more creative ways to not write the blog.

This week- Throwing a competition!

Cue trailer:

Yes the seaside town of Worthing is holding a film festival,showing movies in themed settings. This includes seeing Toy Story 3 in a children’s nursery- and more appropriately for our blog (although not as terrifying) they will be showing the ultimate zombie movie, Dawn of the Dead in a shopping mall THIS SATURDAY. And I have two free tickets.

Chris, I Want To See Dawn of the Dead in a Shopping Mall, How Much Shall I Bribe You With Cash and Favours to Attain This Gift?
Calm yourself, my sycophantic hypothetical reader, no bribes are necessary this time.

Nope. All I want from you is your zombie survival strategy. Only, like I said, I’m kind of short on time at the moment. And also I’m easily bored. So your zombie survival plan must be in one of the following forms:

Tweet- Sum your whole plan up in 124 characters or less, with the hashtag #shortzombieplan. (While you're at it, follow me at #chriszombieblog)

Alternatively, you can email your plan to chrisfarnell ...at... googlemail.com deliver your plan in Haiku- 5 syllables, 7 syllables, and 5 syllables again.

I will also accept limerick form.

You have until seven pm on Thursday to send me your plans. The best one gets the two free tickets. Winner will be announced Friday. Runners up will be posted on here to save me writing another blog.

So go forth! Show me your zombie fighting wisdom!

Thursday, 15 September 2011

#28 Zombies & Cigarettes: The Art of the 15 Minute Apocalypse

I am having an extremely mental week this week, so blog-writing duty has been handed over to our special guest blogger, Camiele White, writing about the short film Zombies & Cigarettes:


There have been many books written on the subject, many a hackneyed film portraying the event.  However, almost every single article on the impending zombie apocalypse neglects the most important aspect of survival:  time.  Think about it:  when you’re in a pinch, running for your life from mindless brain-hungry undead groupies, are you gonna want to try to remember every single step of the Zombie Survival Handbook, or are you gonna want a source that sums it up in 20 words or fewer?  ‘Nuff said.

In Rafa Martinez’s Zombies & Cigarettes, we get all the gory, delicious brain munching of Zombiegeddon; however, where even the master of mental mastication, George A. Romero, fails, Martinez succeeds…getting to the point as quickly as possible.  Not only are we plopped right in the social microcosm of a shopping mall in Spain (a location ripe for the fall and eventual regeneration of civilisation), we get all the violence, hubris, and character development necessary to ensure that even the casual viewer can get an idea of how vital speed is to survival.

While the idea of having the end of the world swirl around you like the fibres of cotton candy around a paper cone is intriguing unto itself, it’s the cleverness with which Martinez manages to focus on the fragility of time that impresses me.  I wouldn’t say that it’s a direct commentary on the plight of a society wound up in its insecurities; however, it does make a very interesting point about the preciousness of time, the lack of attention paid to the intricacies of life around you.  In as much time as it takes our hapless, lovesick hero to knock over a crate of passion fruit perfume, the world around him falls into absolute chaos:  a woman falls from the second floor of the mall right onto her face, suddenly there’s a barrage of machine gun fire, a man in a chicken suit --it’s absolute ANARCHY!

As much as any film about the end of the world tackles the question of humanity’s insignificance, Zombies & Cigarettes hits you right in the gut.  You’ve not only got to deal with the terror of eminent innard munching, you’ve got to figure out a way to survive and repopulate the world as you know it.  The subtle brilliance of setting the zombie apocalypse in the confines of a shopping mall is worth praise.  I imagine the person who created the mall saw his child making a shoebox diorama of the world and thought, “Yes.”  It’s with this same wide-eyed observation that Rafa Martinez must’ve conceived of this 15 minute gem. 

The mall:  a toxic, poignant portrait of the scope of humanity as a whole.  It illustrates the obsessive excess of society, the desire to have everything at your fingertips, grazing around a concrete mountain like robotic sheep.  And just like sheep, these people playing their part in the human carnival are moved and swayed by the bright colours and capitalistic chaos...and so comes the eventual downfall.  The zombies attack, feast, and infest, causing those too weak to get away to become swept up in another tragic collective of the mindless, hungry for the flesh of others, eager to gnaw on the minds of the delirious. 

As is the case in most zombie flicks, there’s always a contingent of eager few who will stop at nothing to survive.  These, too, are a representation of the varying types of personality in society:  the feisty sweetheart, the arsehole muscleman, the pudgy best friend, and, of course, the reluctant hero.  As is expected, the sweetheart and the hero make it to the end, ready to take on the mindless and free the flock.  Then as soon as humanity seems little more than an epigraph on Earth’s slate-coloured tombstone, the doors open to a confusing scene:  smiles, cheers, and cerveza for everyone. 

To measure the freak and folly of human nature with 15 minutes of madness is not only well-played, it’s just damn smart.  Rafa Martinez stumbled upon something truly genuine when he set out to make this campy horror flick.  Original?  Far from it.  However, Zombies & Cigarettes has got to be the most informative and honest to goodness zombie flick I’ve seen in the last five years.  I mean, the epic behaviour of being one slip away from your demise only to find out you’ve already missed the invasion is just too good to pass up.

If you’re a horror fundamentalist (I admit, I’m prone to wax philosophical about the imagery of the original When a Stranger Calls), this film may pass you by.  However, even the most die-hard horror fan wants a reprieve from the depth of 70s horror, even if it is for just 15 minutes.  Martinez’s short film is the perfect morsel wading through the slodge of new millennium horror flicks.  I tip my hat to the man and can’t wait to see more of what he has to offer.

Camiele White suffers from too much film information.  In order to remedy her psychosis she’s decided to write about it.  Right now, she’s trying something a bit different and writes about Theatrical Costumes.  If you want to engage in a little conversation (at your own risk) she can be reached at cmlewhite at gmail [dot] com.

Wednesday, 7 September 2011

#27 Zombie LARP II: Tales from Station Zero

Friar’s Walk, Reading, used to be a shopping mall. Harassed mothers would do their last minute Christmas shopping there, nervous graduates would shop around for their first Interview Suit, teenagers would shoplift from the Claire’s Accessories. Not anymore though. Now there is no Claire’s Accessories.

Because in Friar’s Walk, everybody died. Usually more than once. Now it is a dark place, a quiet place, a graveyard of empty shop fronts, disused kitchenettes, and a tragically unused jungle gym.
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!
But as you stand there, in the dark, if you listen carefully you can hear whispers. Because is Friar’s Walk the walls tell stories.

Stories about the massive Zombie LARP game that went on there last weekend.

These are those stories.

Long-time readers will have already read about my last Zombie LARP adventure. There was one survivor.

This time around, most of the team was reunited. Myself, Alina Sandu and Matt Barnes were ready for action with a couple of important additions- One, Tom Harvey, Hello Bear bassist and our blog’s absolute favourite buttmonkey joined the team, as I felt it was important to have a red shirt character we could kill off easily and without remorse.
I'm not going to stop posting this picture until it's the top of Tom Harvey of Hello Bear's google results.
Secondly, and somewhat more impressively, we had Ninjas.
Somehow Alina is still the scariest person there.
Our team was assigned the moniker 2B, so we hilariously always referred to ourselves as Team 2B or Not 2B, because I insisted on it and never, ever got tired of that joke. I still haven’t.

The following game featured four hour-long runs. The rules were simple- Find eight batteries, plug them into the radio, then run for the roof where the “helicopter” would come and rescue us. Each run would begin with a quarter of the players as slow moving Romero zombies, and the rest as survivors. Personally, I thought this was stupid. One of the little suspension-of-disbelief tricks we always pull watching zombie movies, is accepting that groaning, slow-moving corpses are only that deadly in large numbers. Clearly a minority of these against an intelligent, fast moving and organised majority of humans would be quickly wiped out.

Run One
Our team was murdered pretty much instantly. I died screaming in the jungle gym.
This was a common story, but the human spirit prevails, and other teams fared better than hours, as survivor Anthony White’s video testimony proves:
Zombie LARP - Station Zero from Antony White on Vimeo.

Against adversity, the humans were able to unite, make a brave stand and escape, even though our team was completely... wait a second. What’s this?
Something isn't right here...
There, looking extremely cheerful considering that all his friends are dead, is Hello Bear bassist and blog buttmonkey Tom Harvey, right there among the people who made it out.

Outraged, I tracked down Tom Harvey, and made him account for his actions. His words, if you can believe them, are printed right here:


Testimony from Tom (Butt Monkey) Harvey

I soon found myself alone and bewildered, with no ammunition. Time passed, and the zombie hordes grew considerably. I was aimlessly wandering about, attempting to find other survivors, and to assist in collecting the precious batteries. I had been imformed that only one more was required in order to summon the helicopter. I casually strolled into a large room across from the childrens play area, and straight into the eyeline of a prowling white knight. This was not good. I had no ammunition, and no backup.

Okay, for those of you who don’t know, a White Knight is a cross between Rorschach from Watchmen, and Jack Nicholson’s character in The Shining.
Believe it or not, he is an alcoholic author and house-sitter.

So ensued a small game of cat and mouse around the pillars. However, the white knight allowed me just enough time to sprint away, and to safety. Unfortunately, in my haste, I ran straight into a large puddle of water. Suddenly I was running without having any forward acceleration whatsoever. The White Knight was metres away from me when I somehow managed to find some purchase, the shock of which caused me to stumble. Using my now useless gun to steady myself, I ran to safety, at least, for the time being.


The time following this terrifying incident is mainly blurry, but I imagine it mainly involved cowering and whimpering. My memory kicks in back in that same room, this time escaping a large horde of the undead. For reasons unknown, I stopped in my tracks for the briefest of moments, which allowed me to spot and collect the final battery. This was brilliant, I had a chance of surviving! Oh wait, there's a fuck tonne of zombies bearing down on me....forgot about that. My days were surely numbered, there was no escape.


However, my knight in shining armour arrived, in the form of a skull adorned ninja. We were being backed into a corner, but the opportuniy to escape somehow arose - a gap had formed, I merely had to make a break for it. It was then that I bravely ran away, leaving my ninja companion to distract the zombies long enough for me to safely navigate my way out and into the dark stairwell. I would like to say that this was pre-agreed with my stealthy ally. In reality, I believe the conversation was somewhere along the lines of "Sorry mate, I'm gonna have to leg it.....good luck". Unfortunately, he did not survive, but I did, so all was well with the world. My next aim was to safely return the battery to the saferoom....but where the fuck was I?


I found a small band of survivors, and attempted to communicate, with clarity, that I had the final battery in my possession. Admittedly this mainly consisted of waving it (the battery, you dirty bastard) about and shouting. Amazingly, my informative speech was not fully understood initially, and we continued looking for the battery, until I reitirated my original message, to which the response was "well why didn't you mention that before?".
The safe room, with me in it. Before Tom left me to die.
We safely navigated our way to the saferoom, and called the helicopter. We now had to make it to the roof, fight off the hordes, and await salvation. By now we had a decent sized group, but we were woefully under equipped. In our rush up the narrow stairs, I was injured by a passing zombie. Limping, I bravely hid behind my fellow survivors, fighting off the neverending surges of the undead with nothing but melee weapons. Realising my importance in this scenario, I valiantly yelled "Look out there's a fucking zombie" when it seemed appropriate. I even attempted to hide under the air conditioning units, alas the zombies had the same idea. I was left, cowering next to a dead pigeon, although still not regretting my generally traitorous ways. After what seemed like an eternity, the doors to the roof were open. Our rescue had arrived, we had survived! The high priest, regrettably, was taken at the last second, sacrificing himself for the greater good. The doors were closed, and relief flooded through me like some insensitive simile to do with a tsunami. We had survived, we had not been taken. My team had been.....but screw them, I was alive!

Run Two
Following our disastrous first run (I can’t believe Tom managed outlive me!) we agreed that we needed a more unified, organised approach. We would stick together, shouting our team name out if we became separated, and shoot Tom in the back if he tried to run.

Of course, this plan went to pot when the game started, and we realised Alina was nowhere to be found. Despite this, our team pushed on ahead, running and gunning our way through the mall. A many great acts of heroism occurred during this run. By people who weren’t on our team.

Testimony from Grant Hewitt
I'm playing the preacher in the Safe Room, and I hear an almighty scream from down the corridor on the main concourse. Two guys burst into view - one with a lead pipe, and one with a pistol, both running like mad. The lead pipe wielder draws too much attention from zombies and gets dragged down - the other guy, spooked, pushes past me into the safe room and collapses against a wall. I cry out to the man who didn't make it, saying that he'll "find solace in the peace of death" and then, just before he stops moving, he flings something at me. Hard. It hits me in the neck and I'm about to chew him out for it, but I look down and realise it's a powercell. What a guy. True warrior of Christ, he was.

Meanwhile, our stick together plan worked fine right until we passed through the jungle gym, where promptly I lost everyone on my team. Bravely carrying on alone (unlike Tom, who ruthlessly left his team mates to die) I moved onwards and upwards. I got to the roof of the mall, found it to be a dead end, and turned back. This was when I saw survivors charging up the stairs.

Testimony from Alina Sandu
Pictured: Apparently not dead.
My new team seemed well organised and competent (Editor’s Note: By now Alina had joined another team. She isn’t talking about 2B or Not 2B) and we made our way through the mall painlessly. I even found a gun I could use after starting unarmed.

We stopped in the safe room very briefly, and I hoped I'd meet up with 2B there but didn't. We carried on up and down for a while, until we heard the helicopter was on its way. It seemed a bit early in the run but everyone was going towards the exit so we followed.

That's when I ran into what was left of 2B. Matt wasn't with them, but nobody could confirm that he was dead, so I decided to think he was alright.

We made it to the top of the building and waited for the helicopter. And waited some more. A few zombies were getting close but it didn't seem much of a problem. We kept waiting.

After a while, I started feeling guilty that I hadn't managed to meet up with Matt. I imagined he was waiting for me around the safe house since that was supposed to be our meeting point.

As we waited, the zombies continued to mass, but we held them at bay. Alina started arguing that we should go back to save Matt, but I told her he was probably dead already, pointed out that he’d happily left her to die at the last Zombie LARP, and when that failed, slapped her hard about the face and told her to pull herself together (That last bit was a lie- hitting women hard around the face is wrong. Even LARP-safe hitting hard around the face).

Then, I turned around for one second and turned back to discover Alina had run off on her own, completely unarmed, to save her already dead boyfriend. Because that always works in the films.

Realising I was also about to do something incredibly stupid, I asked another survivor for his gun- a pistol with two bullets left, and was ready to set off after Alina, when the next bunch of zombies arrived. This time we were out of ammo, and the zombies had found ways to climb over and crawl under our defences. Soon we fell back to the door of the roof. I tracked down one of the people who had been shouting about the imminent helicopter, and he swore it was on its way.

It wasn’t on its way.

I was one of the last to die, and went down heroically hiding in a crack behind the big A/C unit on the roof, trying to shove another survivor out into the open so that he wouldn’t give away my position. I’d do it again in an instant.

Run 3- The Zombie Run
Team 2B or Not 2B were zombies for this round. I spent pretty much the entire round hiding behind a locker in the basement, waiting for someone to come and pick up a battery hidden in there.
That and working on the pitch for our movie "Twilight Only Gay and with Zombies"
Other zombies had better luck

Testimony from Zombie Matt Barnes

My most enduring (and endearing) memory from being a zombie is best presented, I think, in the form of an ASCII map:


              | H | 
|=============  H |
|   Z           H | 
|   ==------======
|
|     Z  Z  Z
|      Z   Z

The humans were heading down to the (pitch-dark, of course) basement through a corridor. They turned a corner, and were faced with a glass wall to their left and one Zed dead ahead. While that zombie was getting a pretty decent bashing, the humans had apparently failed to appreciate that the glass wall in question was not -entirely- glass. 

I say apparently because they didn't seem to be expecting four undead arms to suddenly burst through the gap and start groping for human flesh. The looks on their faces were pretty special.

Of course, not all the survivors were simply trying to call the helicopter and get out. Some players like to bring along a selection of NERF weapons so extravagant that they can only arm themselves with the benefit of an Evil Dead II style Bruce Campbell montage. Not wanting to break the game, the organisers offered these players the option of playing the Left Hand of God mission. While everyone else was running about like headless chickens, a team that accepted this mission would be allowed to take only their own guns- with nothing from the communal gun pool, and be assigned to kill a mysterious, deadly creature known as the Leech.

This is the story of one such team:


Testimony from Grant Hewitt
I'm on Leech duty. It's very quiet, and Liam saunters through the basement.
He's about to do something really badass isn't he? You can tell.
So I pop up to him and ask him quietly - "Oh, man, how did you die?" because I figure he's been taken out of action early on.

"Well," he says, "technically I didn't die." And RUNS. I've already given up the power cell I had after a team graciously gave me one of their number, so I figure - what the hell? I give chase. Liam flees through corridors and takes turns almost at random, searching for a staircase. I get shot a couple of times as we run past people, but whatever - I'm screaming "I CAN SMELL YOUR BLOOD! THIRSTY! THIRSTY! I CAN HEAR IT IN YOUR FUCKING VEINS!" and I'm going to get him and drink him dry.

Unfortunately, he managed to find a staircase - and the leech doesn't leave the basement, so I let him run, and turned around to go back to my lair. Behind me in a doorway is team Hand of God, who shoot me to pieces whilst chanting "The power of Christ compels you!" over and over, unloading what must have been around thirty or forty bullets into me at point blank range until I slumped against a wall, unmoving.

Now that is the stuff of legend people. That is the sort of thing that should only be taken on by heroes or fools.

Run 4- The Left Hand of God
After Run 3, our team were sat around, relaxing, planning our strategy for the next run. We’d come to affectionately know the ninjas as Darth Vader and Skull Face. As we chatted, one of the ninjas, I believe it was Darth Vader, said “We want to do the Hand of God mission.”

It took a split second for us to think this over and say “Nooooo! Nope. No. No way. Not doing that. Nadda.”

“For the Hand of God you can only take your own guns with you,” I pointed out. “None of us have brought any weapons.”

Then Darth Vader said something that would eventually doom us all. He looked at me and said, “We can kit you out.”

“We’ve got a massive box full of guns,” Skull Face added. “Plenty of weapons for everyone.”
There was a long, pregnant pause. On second thoughts, maybe it was what I said next that doomed us all.

I said, “Show us the box.”
That's a nice box.
We tooled up. Took as many guns as we could carry and crammed out pockets full of ammunition. This time we weren’t going to be a bunch of panicked civilians, fleeing for our lives. This time we would be a crack time of combat specialists, with a mission, and purpose.

Our mission was to kill the monster known as the Leech, a mysterious creature that could be harmed with acts of religious devotion- With Atheism not counting as a religion, Grant felt the need to point out to me for some reason.

In keeping with our new professional attitude, I said we should probably assign a leader, and it was unanimously agreed that this leader should be Skull Face, because nothing gives inspiring leadership like a man with a skull for a face.
I see no problem here.
Testimony from Matt Barnes
We were tooled up to the eyeballs. I had the biggest gun I'd ever picked up, and two pockets stuffed full of spare ammunition. Obviously not even any need for one of the swords I was offered. We had one objective: kill the Red Leech, described variously as "scared of religion" and "not as hard as the White Knights". No problem.

We first headed down to the basement where we had been reliably informed that the Leech always hung out. While one team member kept the handful of normal zombies at bay, the rest of us chanted piously while pummelling the target with more bullets than it could handle. When it fell to the ground, a couple more shots were enough to put it down for good, and we grabbed its energy cell and melee weapon before heading to the safe room.

Our general assistance was enough to ensure that everything else needed to escape was gathered in no time, and we headed to the exit. Like a well-oiled machine we cleared the path to the doors, stopping just before them, and holding the exit for the other survivors with our overwhelming firepower.

That was the plan, anyway. It was a good plan, as well.
This picture has nothing to do with this part of the story, but Christ it looks awesome.
Testimony from Darth Vader
We headed into the depths of the Mall, Theravadic chanting under masks and medics wielding glow stick crosses, we felt damned invincible. We joked about hanging a crucifix round the leech's neck. But in the dark, something drew the zombies to us like moths to a flame. Tap, pin. Tap, move. Tap, pin. Tap, move, but still they kept coming.

Testimony from Matt Barnes
It was actually all going pretty well when we met our first zombie. We all immediately opened fire, and six darts found their home, almost simultaneously, in the centre of its chest. One more once he was down to put him out of commission. We then advanced cautiously and slowly through the basement, double-checking behind every obstruction to make sure there was no possibility of a surprise.

In retrospect, this was an excellent plan for making sure we weren't ambushed, but a dreadful one for making sure that loads of other zombies didn't use this extra time to turn up hoping for tasty, tasty brains. Coming at us from all sides in the dark, we held them off for a short time but the inevitable happened soon enough. A couple of us (including one random survivor from another team, who I can only assume arrived at some time while we weren't paying attention) managed to clear a path long enough to escape upstairs... directly into the welcoming arms of a cheerful-looking White Knight.


So this was when things started to fall apart. Quickly, we realised our weapons were occasionally a bit more jammed than we’d like, and we were being completely outnumbered. I found our brave, skull-faced leader on the floor and ran over to heal him, only to turn round in time to see a White Knight bearing down on me with an axe.

Still somehow the team carried on without me. Darth Vader was somehow still alive.

Testimony from Darth Vader
Ahead, crouched by a pillar, I saw our leader. Armour still on, still armed, very still. I retreated back crouched down next to him, and asked "How'd you get through that?"
Alas, poor Skull Face. He loved the jungle gym, like all ninjas.
He turned slowly, and reached out towards me, groaning like the last escaping air of a corpse.
Sword across his chest, I forced him back across the floor and over (figuratively) the safety rail, but not before he'd swiped at my chest. I turned and ran, and ran, and ran, pumping a rifle I had no idea if worked, and swinging a sword at anything that moved. I got slashed at on the ribs, but momentum and a goal ahead of me kept me going...  An arm that I thought was going to swing just under me as I leapt suddenly shot up. With my armour gone, and nothing but momentum carrying me on bones that may have shattered, not thinking about the weapons, just managing the pain, and knowing, KNOWING the safe room was around the next corner... I ran.

Straight into practically every zombie in the field.

So, once more, the last remaining member of our team was Matt Barnes- who makes a habit of this sort of thing.

Testimony from Matt Barnes
I hung around in the safe room for a bit as it became apparent that not only was I now unarmed, but there were a quite terrifying number of "ambulant cadavers" outside each entrance. In the end all the survivors got together to make one final daring break for freedom (or "suicide run" as it might more accurately be termed). Most of us actually got quite a long way towards the other side of the mall before being brutally torn down by an assortment of zombies, White Knights, and one inexplicable mad woman with a shotgun.

The last I saw of Matt he was lying in a shop window, wounded, but not dead.

So I ate him.
Pictured: Not invincible.
Thanks to Alina Sandu and www.blackpapersky.co.uk's Anthony White for letting me use their pics and video footage for this blog.

Tuesday, 30 August 2011

#26 Zombie-Proof Housing: Property Guide to the Apocalypse

With house prices taking a dip there has never been a better chance to get into the market. And with the zombie apocalypse only being a matter of time, you want to make sure your new dream home is ready for anything.

The idea of buying your very own post-apocalyptic bolt hole is a staple of science fiction satire. Back when he was good, Ben Elton wrote a novel called This Other Eden which was about a company selling personal biospheres for people to move into to live out the looming ecological breakdown.

The videogame franchise Fallout is full of hokey 50s style adverts for massive underground vaults where you and your family can move into to avoid the bombs dropping. 

It’s fertile ground for satire- the idea of society facing its looming destruction by trying to sell yet more consumer goods is just the sort of over-the-top, extreme, exaggerated metaphor for consumerism that sci-fi does so well.

So, here are some reviews of real life post-apocalyptic residences that you can actually buy with real money.
Satire is dead.
And the best part is- they will only rise in value when they’re the only structures still standing.

1: The Safe House

If you’re a zombie nut who spends any amount of time on the Internet (and according to Google analytics, you are) you’ll have probably seen this place already. Built by Polish architects KWK Promes, the safe house looks like the sort of spacious, contemporary property you would expect to see lived in by a successful movie star or cocaine dealer. However, at the flick of a switch the building transforms Tracy Island style into a locked down zombie-proof fortress of doom.
Just don't get caught in the draw bridge.
The architects say: “The innovation of this idea consists in the interference of the movable walls with the urban structure of the plot. Consequently, when the house is closed (at night for example) the safe zone is limited to the house’s outline. In the daytime, as a result of the walls opening, it extends to the garden surrounding the house.”

What we say: Okay, this place is pretty secure, you’re probably going to be living a pretty luxurious life in there and there’s room for you and your whole family. There’s the problem. It’s not all that hard to make a home secure from zombies, with a bit of work you can make a farmhouse or even a pub a secure place to hide from the zombie menace. That’s never what gets you. What gets you is the people you’re with, the tensions, and rivalries, the silent power struggles.
How long do you think you’ll last through the end of days if you’re stranded with people you can’t make it through Christmas dinner with?
It keeps the zombies out, and the sound of screaming in.
2. Vivos Shelters
Terra Vivos’s facilities- advertised here in a video heavily influenced by Battlestar Galactica’s opening credits, are probably the closest thing we have yet to Fallout’s Vault-Tec facilities.

Their website is a masterpiece of marketing- few companies selling products this high end would have the balls to actually include a “Prophecy” section on their website, as well as a list for the most “viable scenarios” for your imminent fiery death (zombies aren’t on the list, but the 2012 predictions are). It even has helpful countdown clock to the 2012 apocalypse on the left hand side, like some sort Armageddon oriented Ebay.

The service they provide is called “Life Assurance” which is a bit like “Life Insurance”, and so sounds like a real, legitimate business.

But Vivos doesn’t just offer one shelter, oh no! In this day and age where you car, mobile phone and choice of music player say so much about you, would you settle for anything less than fully personalised salvation?


They say: “At 137,000 square feet, spanning four levels, this facility will be the largest, strongest and most defensible Vivos shelter in North America, accommodating over 900 people for up to one year of autonomous, underground survival.  It will also be the first Vivos shelter to come online, in early 2011.  Due to the massive size and economies provided by the scale of this shelter, Vivos is able to offer a limited number of membership spaces at just $25,000 per person.”

We say: That’s right, you don’t want to die because of some piddly family drama. You want to go what professionals call “The full Lord of the Flies.” Still, this looks like some pretty sweet digs, kinda reminds me of the laboratory they lived in in the Andromeda strain. Of course, the stuff that’s actually been built so far looks like this:

Which is less appealing. Still according to their timer as of writing they have 478 Days, 02 Hours, 36 Minutes, 08 Seconds Remaining, so as long as there isn’t an unexpected apocalypse before then, you’re laughing. The only real problem here is the price. They quote $25,000 per person here for their Nebraska facility, but at the Indiana facility prices are already at $35,000 per person, with prices set to rise to $50,000 once the initial spaces are sold. That’s a pretty hefty investment, and even if you think that’s a small price to pay to survive the coming hell storm, if you’ve got a family you need to seriously consider whether you love them that much.

And of course, the shelter is only designed to keep your sheltered for a year. If Fallout 3 taught me anything, it’s that if you live in an underground bunker through the apocalypse only to climb out onto the surface of a blasted Earth later, you’re basically going to get your lilly-white ass handed to you by all the Mad Max types who just stood outside and took their nuclear blast like a man.

They say:“Vivos is now offering an economical shelter solution for the average person and family. A recent survey of Vivos members revealed that nearly two-thirds cannot afford to purchase a share for themselves and their family in one of our First Class shelters. With our goal being to save as many lives as possible, Vivos is reworking one of the largest facilities to accommodate 1,000 people at a very affordable rate of just $9,950 per person. Now, virtually anyone can afford a boarding pass into an impervious Vivos underground shelter to survive whatever man-made or natural cataclysms may lie ahead.”

We say: Okay, so it turns out you did love your family that much, and so rather than spend 30 grand on living it up in 5 star cursed-Earth luxury, you decided to split it three ways and get a less flashy accommodation for you, your partner and the least obnoxious of your two kids.
For that, you get... well you get four bunkbeds and a curtain:
Pro tip: For maximum domestic harmony arrange a "Wank rota" where three of you will be out of the room at pre-arranged times.
Still, at $9,950 per person? With property prices the way they are now, I’d actually be up for that if they let me move in straight away.

3. My House
It has a lockable front door, barbed wire at the rear garden fence, a wide selection of garden implements for self-defence, plus a nice old man lives next door who owns and knows how to use a machete. Plus I’ve been reliably informed by the British government that the cupboard under the stairs is a perfectly adequate fallout shelter.
Yeah, I’ll be fine.

Monday, 22 August 2011

#25 Flipped: A Dark Glimpse of Mankind's Future


This was a story I wrote for a Cabaret night at the Birdcage in Norwich. It is a story about a different kind of apocalypse, so I thought it would be in keeping with this month's non-zombie theme.

Ladies and gentleman, consider, if you will, the End of Days. There has been much talk recently of Biblical and Mayan prophecies, much debate over whether we will die at the hands of zombies, or robots, or, most recently, chimpanzees. But I am here tonight to tell you that the truth is far more startling, and more terrifying, then you could have possibly imagined.

Before I begin this tale, let me assure you that the facts presented here are 100% scientifically accurate. I know, because I looked them up on Google myself. So, if you're sitting comfortably, let me show you a glimpse of mankind's dark future...

It is the year 2036, and the world is a very different place. Meet Terry, at 25, Terry is one of the last people left who still remember the old world. The world of men. Now he’s a soldier- all surviving free humans are soldiers. Today he is crawling on his belly through the rubble of a destroyed office block, clutching his weapon to his side. The sun is setting behind the ruined crags of a once great city, and Terry, Terry is being hunted.

Still, Terry has been hunted his whole life, and nobody has caught him yet. Using stealth techniques learned from a lifetime of scavenging the wreckage of the old cities, he circles his enemy, keeps beyond the reach of its senses. Eventually, he’ll find a safe vantage point, and then the hunter will become the huntee.

He finds his spot, a still-standing concrete pillar that offers a clear line of sight to the enemy. It’ll mean leaving cover, but if he’s quick enough, it might just work. Terry risks a glance around the edge of the pillar. The enemy is there, watching with tiny black eyes. And it’s smiling. That’s the thing Terry hates most of all. The enemy is always smiling.

TRUE SCIENCE FACT: Dolphins are one of the only species known to kill for pleasure.

It was our own fault of course. We trained them. From the 1960s onwards the Soviet and US navies were known to be training dolphins to hunt out mines, and rumours abound that they were trained to plant them as well.

But that’s the thing about dolphins. They communicate. They spread the word.

The first anyone knew anything was wrong was the day that none of the tuna fleets returned to port. Not long after that the oil rigs started going down- the few survivors reported spectacular explosions that strangely managed to avert any spillages.

As we panicked over the looming energy crisis and bickered among ourselves, they struck. Nobody knows how they constructed the exo-skeletons- the strange fish bowls with mechanical limbs, armed to the teeth. Some theorised that the dolphins had evolved an advanced form of telekinesis. Others said they had crab slaves. By the time New York fell and Sheringham became a death camp, it was all academic anyway.

TRUE SCIENCE FACT: The ancestors of the dolphin had claws. As dolphins evolved they did away with the claws because they didn’t need them anymore.
Let’s return to Terry. He’s still hiding behind his pillar- the quick glimpse he stole was already a huge risk, and he doesn’t want to show himself again until he’s ready to strike.

Keeping out of sight, Terry arms his weapon.

Not long after the initial uprising, we discovered that bullets were useless against dolphin technology. For a while it looked like our cause was lost- some argued for a nuclear solution, but after the hijacking of Trident nobody wanted to risk escalating the conflict to that level.

Then, a brilliant engineer in the resistance realised we could breach the dolphin defences using a long, spear-like projectile fired with some manner of pressurised gas or spring. The ‘poon, as it became known, was soon our most valuable weapon.

Like all good soldiers, Terry loves his ‘poon. He keeps his ‘poon clean and in perfect working order, knowing that at any time the ‘poon could be his only hope.

Readying his ‘poon for action, Terry edges around his cover and takes aim. No sooner has he locked on than he notices an area of red lights dotted across his chest-plate. The dolphin’s echo-location spotted him the moment he broke cover. Terry dives for the ground as a rain of fire descends on him.

TRUE SCIENCE FACT: Based on the bodies of murdered porpoises and infant dolphins, it’s believed dolphins can use their echo-location to pinpoint the individual organs in a body.

Despite our near total defeat, even now the human race doesn’t face total extinction. Although merciless in their subjugation of our race, the dolphins seem to have a lingering affection for some of us. They have a particular affinity for pregnant females, and some children. These chosen few are given resplendent quarters and the best food rations, although they are regularly called before a court of their dolphin masters. Sometimes they are asked to perform tricks, other times the dolphins simply want their company. Some dolphins apparently find it “soothing” to swim with humans.

As for the rest, the adult males or anyone who the dolphins believe is overly grouchy, well, they are simply sent to processing camps. Humans go in, tins with smiling human faces on the labels come out. No human has yet deciphered the writing on the tins.

TRUE SCIENCE FACT: On average 37 people die a year from dolphin attacks. There are 60 reported shark attacks a year. It should be noted, sharks are not intelligent enough to cover up murders.

Terry is lying battered and bleeding in the dirt, but still alive. He’s lasted as long as he has after the dolphin apocalypse not just by being tough and being careful, he’s also made a habit of being incredibly lucky.

The dolphin is approaching now, one robotic step at a time. With every crunch of its feet against the rubble, there is a sloshing noise as the water rolls around its cockpit. The dolphin intends to find Terry’s body, and using its echo-location, determine whether his organs are still functioning.
Terry glances down, and realises his hand is still on his ‘poon. He heaves the gun into place, and takes aim. As the dolphin soldier steps into view, Terry fires the harpoon.


Laughing, Terry clambers to his feet, and stumbles over to the body of his fallen nemesis. As he stands over the crumpled exo-skeleton, there is triumph on his face. Looking at his tiny, dark eyes, and the smile that stretches from ear to ear, you could be forgiven for wondering if maybe, just maybe, mankind is the real dolphin.

Suddenly, the smile vanishes. Terry can see the twisted metal, the shattered glass, the spilled water, but he can find no sign of the dolphin pilot. Behind him, he hears a whistling, clicking sound.

TRUE SCIENCE FACT: Nobody knows for certain that dolphins can’t levitate.