Big Fat Ostrich

Those crazy guys over at Amanita Design have a relatively new online game. Osada is billed as an interactive music video but it’s just another point-and-click game like Samorost and Machinarium.

The difference is the music, which is Spanish/Mexican themed as opposed to the music in Machinarium and Samorost which was more ethereal and mind meltingly New Age. In a good way.

The goal is to point and click your way through the various levels which are populated with sleazy Mexican outlaw dudes who are sometimes equipped with guitars, ping pong paddles or bottles of tequila. Like Machinarium and Samorost, there’s a high level of surrealism. Osada isn’t as visually pleasing as those two, but it’s some well put together stuff even if the puzzles are more obvious and less intuitive than previous games.

Have fun.

Radiation Juan

The Radiation Juan Chronicles will be featured whenever Juan finds his way out of the desert and actually sends us something. Join him on his dangerous , drunken escapades.

The Sweet Green Glow

I walked into the bar and goddamn did I need a drink. The bartender was a hulking beast with a hateful slouch that told you he would not be listening to your sad stories.

He looked like he used to eat logs for a living but soon found out that it was an even shittier job than serving the locals at Los Diems on rte 70. All I wanted was a few hard shots of Toxiquilas to make the yesterday go away. Pine Nut looks at me and says, “We ain’t got none of that. Pick again”

But hell, I was determined. “Its not hard to make”, I told him. “Vermouth and tequila in a small shot…”

“I said we don’t got none”

Fine. So I leave the bar and head to the local liquor outlet.The door was locked but by my watch they’d be open at noon. 5 minutes later the door opens. God, I love these people for their punctuality. I walk back to Los Diems and swing the vermouth onto the bar. “Here y’ar. It’s on me”

I swear the very air fell on the floor. No one said a word or even looked at me.

Except for Johnny Tea Bag behind the bar.

“A present, eh?”
“Yeah. Now make me a drink. Its a shot. You mix vermouth with …”
“You telling me how to do my job?”
“…”
“Good.”

He never took his eyes off me as he cracked open the bottle and mixed my shot.

“That’s 4.25, buddy.”
“What…I just GAVE you a goddamn bottle.”
“No one drinks in my bar for free.”

I was done arguing.

So I paid. All day long and right through happy hour.

Read Chapter 2!

Radiation Juan

The Radiation Juan Chronicles will be featured whenever Juan gets off his drunken ass to actually send us something. Join him on his dangerous and sometimes disturbing (but usually disgusting) journey.

Remember the Alamo

By the time I crossed the river, the sun had set and I could see the lights from the town. They weren’t big city bright lights though. More like small town low-watt bulbs flickering in the dusty night air. Looked like my kinda town.

Yes. I had been here before. The night before in fact. It had been slowly seeping back to me all day as I walked. The taste in my mouth kept reminding me of that. Just as pain holds memories, so does taste and smell. And what I was tasting in my mouth conjured up shiny images of tequila bottles and rusty pliers. I had lost my sense of smell at least six years ago, but that didn’t stop the muscle memory of my taste buds from remembering a lousy pile of human misery named Osvaldo.

Read Chapter 1!