The following is a transcript of an exchange between Gus Mastrapa and his mother that originally appeared on Robotstreetgang. We are reprinting it on Unwinnable to celebrate the release of Manhunt on PSN this week. To preserve the integrity and gritty realism of the dialogue, no edits have been made. (more…)
Thanks, Mom.
There’s a long list of writers, directors, artists and musicians who have influenced me. Recently I wrote about how the science fiction author Douglas Adams helped lead me down the left hand path towards atheism. But I would have never read Adams or countless others if not for one woman. My mother had more to do with me becoming the person I am today than any teacher ever did. And she did it behind the wheel of a faded fire-engine red Ford Fairmont station wagon. (more…)
At the bar tonight, I stared at my phone in disbelief. Clash of the Titans, it told me, hit theaters in 1981. That meant the world had been without a new Ray Harryhausen movie for over 30 years. Now that he is gone, this seemed – seems – a travesty. (more…)
When it comes to the “Big Four,” I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that Slayer trailed in last place for me. Part of the problem was that they were too fucking scary. Slayer albums were ugly, satanic-looking things that looked like they were cobbled together in blood and flesh by some addled madman. I preferred the austere, somewhat boneheaded symbolism of Metallica’s album covers. Lady Justice is crumbling because the government is all messed up, you know? (more…)
I am trying to be nonchalant, but I know that deep down I am just a mook with a notepad. So I smoke my American Spirit and try not to step in anything gross. We’re in the back alley behind a warehouse in Chatsworth, California. Crudely painted flats, the whitened bones of low-budget film shoots, lean haphazardly against the building. The crumbling asphalt is littered with cigarette butts. A greasy penis pump, half-full with rainwater and god knows what else, lies scattered with empty beer bottles. I don’t know anybody here, really. And deep down I am glad for that. (more…)
There’s been a lot of talk about video game worlds where the specter of aggression seems to clash with artful ambitions. Some have said that these high minded visions are spoiled by violence. Others have risen to defend the less imaginative elements – arguing that the combat against this backdrop brings new meaning. I hate to be that guy, but I’m going to pitch in my two cents on the subject. I’m sure you’re sick of hearing about this subject, but I think I have something new to add to all the hype. (more…)
The inscription in my dog-eared paperback copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy carries deep irony. Written in my mother’s clear hand it says “For Gus, Easter ’83.” The book that would help set me down the path to atheism was delivered to me in a basket full of candy and plastic grass on the day our savior rose from the dead. (more…)
