Shit-Your-Pants Terrifying

Awhile back Dipper gifted me a copy of Funcom’s The Park. It’s a spin-off of their game The Secret World (which is not a topic for this post, but I strongly urge you to give it a whirl!) I’ve recently gotten back into videogames, and yesterday morning Dipper asked me to give it a go when I got home. I was going to write this last night, but after finishing The Park, I just needed to lay down and decompress. There are two main reasons why I needed to decompress. The first is that I get motion sick when playing first person shooter games. This game is also in the first person, but I quickly learned how to move the character so that I didn’t get motion sickness. The second reason is that I have never been scared so thoroughly by a video game, and rarely to this degree by a movie.

In order to take full advantage of the experience, I shut all the lights off in my basement. I dragged the futon over next to me so that Zelda could hang out with me while I gamed. I even put on my headphones. Dipper told me that it was an all-encompassing experience and suggested the headphones. The game begins with a woman standing in the parking lot of a beat to hell looking amusement park called Atlantic Island Park. That’s the only playable character, and her name is Lorraine. She’s looking for her son Callum who has gone missing. She gains entrance to the park and commences to search for him in almost pitch-black conditions.

At the beginning of the game there is a disclaimer, about the game messing with lights, sounds, and visuals. When I read it I chuckled. It seemed ambitious but not unsurprising because The Park is styled as a first-person psychological horror adventure game. Not only was Funcom most decidedly NOT fucking with the gamers, but it drastically failed to prepare the gamer for the sheer terror of it all. Lorraine has no weapons, and doesn’t even get a flashlight until she’s almost done searching the park. In fact, the only thing she can do is call for her son Callum. While this seems useless it’s actually a navigational tool. For each section of the park she has several various phrases that she calls out, and when she does a few things happen. Sometimes Callum will respond and you’ll know where to go based on where the sound is coming from. Oh and be prepared, he’s a creepy little fuck. It’s literally like following Gage Creed in Pet Sematary. Half the time I was temped to leave his possessed-sounding ass behind. Or the screen will slightly warp like looking through a fish eye. This either tells you to go in a certain direction or leads you to something to interact with in the park. If you’d rather navigate this solely on sound, go ahead. You can turn off the visual hints in the menu.

Not so bad, right? Fuck no. Let’s talk about the rides, shall we? The first ride that you go on is The Tunnel of Tales. It’s pretty tame but cool. As you ride through in this swan-shaped boat loudspeakers tell the story of Hansel & Gretel. Shadow displays on the wall highlight key points of the story. If you look around while the story is going on, you’ll notice a few not-so-nice surprises along the way. I wound up actually screaming out loud a few times during this segment. Shit. You. Not.

The other rides are steadily scarier. I can’t even say which one is the scariest. Each ride or attraction had me screaming in real life. I hate roller coasters. I couldn’t stop screaming when Lorraine is riding the rollercoaster. I’ll give you a hint. She’s not alone. By the time I hit the House of Horrors, I was literally crawling from room to room grumbling, “fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fucking hell-fuck-fuck-shit-where-the-fuck-is-he-shit-fuck-omg” the entire time. Things jump out at you, mysterious shadows are there and gone in the blink of an eye, and then there’s Atlantic Island’s Backstory. As you’re looking for Callum there is a paper trail that you follow. The paper trail details the madman that built the park, and a little bit about what he was using it for.

Oh and the chipmunk mascot that’s in the advertising for the game? Yeah. That’s Chad the Chipmunk. The guy who worked as the mascot never took the costume off and basically went totally bugfuck. How do you know? The incident, accident, and death reports you find laying around the park. Even better? He’s one of the creepy motherfuckers sneaking around while you’re trying to find Callum. Sometimes he’s right in your face, other times you barely glimpse the outline and red eyes.

As the game progresses you start to wonder what’s really going on with Lorraine, our main character. Certain areas of the game trigger memories. Lorraine begins talking to herself and trying to rationalize what’s happened in the past or choices she’s made. It all seems pretty forgivable at first. I mean, she’s stuck in this creepy amusement park. She went in when it was still light out but as soon as she goes in it gets dark out? That would be unsettling enough for anyone. Let alone the strange noises and scratching sounds that seem to come from everywhere and nowhere while you’re exploring. Turns out you can’t really trust our Lorraine. She’s a little bugfuck herself, as her conflicting emotions and memories begin to show. Without giving away too much, you also find out that your narrator isn’t quite as reliable because of what she’s gone through. She had a traumatizing childhood and has been medicated for psychiatric problems. These combined with the changing imagery make you start to wonder how much of the game is in her head and how much of it is the evil influence of the amusement park.

I’m going to be completely honest. This game scared me shitless. I’m not being overdramatic when I say that I was screaming pretty much all of the two hours that it took me to go through this game. If you’re good at this type of thing like Dipper, it might take you an hour. I kept wussing out and having trouble going forward. There were a few rides I rode more than once, just to get a closer look at the “extras” that appeared when on the ride. As it turns out, not all of the rides are necessary in order to find Callum, but they do flesh out everyone’s story a little bit more. Also, if you’re a fan of The Secret World, you may recognize some of these locations. The Park takes place about 20 years prior to the Secret World. Oh and the creepy looking motherfucker to the right? The one in rags and a top hat? All out of proportion? Yeah. No fucking clue who he is, though I have my guesses. Not to mention he’s every-fucking-where in this game. But never where you see him coming. More than half the time he sneaks up on you. I was examining something in the Freak Show area and I turned around and he was there. I screamed so loudly Zelda almost fell off the futon beside me!

The park is fantastic. I loved it so much I might play it again soon, just to go through the experience and see what I missed the first time around. The visuals and sounds are terrifying, but I think it’s all the more horrifying in that you don’t have a weapon. Or a flashlight. It’s literally you going through a dark, creepy amusement park at night looking for your kid. By yourself. With nothing to defend yourself and every situation feeling dangerous in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. The closest comparison that I can make is going through a haunted house in real life. You know something is around every corner. But what that thing actually is? And where? Fuck if anyone knows. It’s not like they’ve left you a clue or anything. The Park doesn’t leave you with a nice cut-and-dry ending. It’s enigmatic and very open for debate, and that’s also what makes the game so enjoyable. I have found myself thinking about The Park off and on today at work, thinking through some plot twist or theory. It’s definitely a game that stays with you.

I absolutely recommend this game, but more strongly than that, I recommend you play it the right way. In the dark. Alone. With headphones. Immerse yourself in The Park and you won’t be sorry in the long run, though you’ll be scared out of your mind while you’re playing! And if while you’re playing you happen to feel eyes on your back, it’s probably just Chad the Chipmunk….

 

 

Bouncy-bouncy-bouncy

Physical wounds heal easier than mental wounds. Debriding a physical wound is painful, but possible. Mental wounds? Not as much, though I find these posts help immensely. Especially during weeks like the one I’m in the home stretch of surviving.

The frequency of the attacks has increased, to the point where I find myself crying at least once a day. If it’s at work, like one the other day, I try and find a quiet place to get it over with. I guess that shows progress – it used to be that I would sort of stop, drop, roll, and bawl wherever I was. The way I view the attack is changing too. I see it as something to get over with and get on with my life, because most of the time I can’t really derail it once it’s happening. This morning I’m counting myself lucky. I was ramping up for a really bad attack, but a message from my husband and my brother got me off that particular ledge.

I’m sitting in a part of the clinic that isn’t open yet, and I’m listening to “Riders on the Storm” by The Doors. It’s raining outside. I’ve had my morning coffee, and my kisses from Zelda. This week I’ve put on makeup and jewelry almost every day. I even bought a few solid colored polos so I don’t have to wear my bright yellow construction polo every day. That’s improved the way I see myself, because I can express myself a little bit more freely. Also in the way that I’ve come to think of myself as a bouncy ball or Katamari. (I feel this requires some explanation, so visit this post.)

Last night I watched “Pet Sematary“, which is becoming one of my current comfort movies. I know it’s an odd choice, but when you get right down to it, it’s a tragedy. All of the events can be avoided. Except that we all make mistakes for love. I can’t go into it because it’s not my story to tell, but my parents are currently struggling with some health issues, and I’m beyond terrified that the cycle will start again. I know that’s contributing to my attacks as well, but it seems that only Tkout and Dipper understand and agree with my fears. Everyone else seems to be ignoring the signs. I guess I will have to see how that all plays out.

I’ve ramped up the amount of reviewing that I’m doing for people, and as a result my “to read” pile has grown exponentially. I’m very thankful for this, because it makes me feel like I’m helping good people fulfill their dreams. I’m not sure how far I’ll be able to carry my own dreams, but if I can help someone else, that’s just as good if not better.

A friend of mine from when I worked in a sales call center sent me a surprise in the mail recently. When I opened it, I found a Lokai bracelet. She sent me the orange lokai – which supports mental health awareness. This has a special meaning for the two of us, because recently she came to me with concerns about a loved one and their possible struggle. Every time I look down at it on my wrist, I think of how much there is to live for. Since the beginning, I’ve been open about my own struggles with anxiety and depression. Originally it was to basically let people know what they were getting into, in a bitter way. A few days over a year ago I had a nervous breakdown. I completely lost it and was planning suicide. My husband and brother fought round the clock to keep me alive. (My parents were dealing with another crisis, and so we three dealt with it on our own.) After that passed, I became less bitter, and what started out as more or less a warning sign just became another part of my life. I still post about how I’m doing on Facebook, but now it’s more or less because it’s cathartic. It feels good not to keep it as a dirty secret. If it helps people along the way not to feel so lost or alone, even better. There is always something to live for, and people who love you and would miss you.

I’ve been leaning very heavily on reminders of good times and of the people that love me recently. I find it helps to combat the dark feelings that creep in during the still moments. I’ve mentioned in other posts that I’ve been collecting the Resident Evil Funko Pop figures. Some are exclusive to certain stores, and some are just ridiculously hard to come across. Anyway, I have the bottom three. From left to right, Tyrant, Hunter, and Nemesis. These three are special to me for different reasons. Tyrant and Hunter were ones that Dipper and I found while out on the town for Twin Friday. Phoebe and Dipper brought Nemesis for me one afternoon when they were visiting. (They also brought me the Alien Queen Funko!) Dipper has said he’ll snag me Jill Valentine from Toys R Us at some point. And we are all on the lookout for Leon S. Kennedy and the Licker. These are also special to me because I got to introduce Resident Evil to Phoebe. She’s seen up to the second movie, and I’m wanting to show her the rest. They also remind me of Tkout, because when he and I were dating he purchased Resident Evil 5 for XBOX 360 so that we could spend more time together. (The beginning of the game is a bitch, so we didn’t get far, but I plan on revisiting it soon!)

The picture to the left is my bedside table. The Three Amigos (my fond nickname for Tyrant, Hunter, and Nemesis) are there, along with a graphic novel called Zombies of Mass Destruction, which Dipper recently gave me (not to be confused with the film of the same name, which is also amazing). Underneath the graphic novel is the Kindle Paperwhite, which reminds me of Tkout. The water is also a gift from him.

If you’re struggling like I am an do from time to time, my advice to you is to hold onto the good times. Just sitting here writing this post and thinking about the people I have to be thankful for has brightened my spirits. It’s not going to be a miracle fix every time, and there are times where it won’t take all the pain away. But what it consistently does is remind me why I’m fighting. Who I’m fighting for. I want one more day. With Tkout. With Phoebe. With Dipper. With my parents. With my friends.

If all else fails, build a blanket fort with the love of the people you love the most. When you can’t see the good in yourself, know that they see it for you. When you don’t know your own worth or why they choose to stay, trust that they know it and that’s why they stay.

 

And no matter what, know that even on your worst days they love you and wouldn’t trade you for anything.

When good dead go bad…

Pet Sematary

Image via Wikipedia

One of my favorite books by Stephen King is {and most likely always will be} “Pet Sematary”.  I believe this was the first zombie-themed book I ever read, and I read it somewhere around my 7th or 8th grade year.

This book scared the life out of me !  The story begins with Doctor Louis Creed and his wife Rachel, who move to Ludlow, Maine with their two small children, Ellie and Gage.  They also move with Churchill, Ellie’s cat.

The first day in their new house they make the acquaintance of Jud Crandall, who lives across the street from them.  During their first meeting, he explains the dangers of the road they live on, how trucks drive well above the speed limit and pass day and night.

Jud also shows his new friend a very interesting landmark.  Past the deadfall in the Pet Sematary and up a trail lies a Micmac burial ground with an unusual ability.  Any dead buried there will return, albeit changed.  They return to whomever buried them, so its best that each bury his own.

Throughout the course of the novel, Louis is guided by Victor Pascow, a student who died from injuries at the University where Louis works.  Pascow decides its his personal post-life mission to keep Louis and his family safe.  He warns Louis several times not to use the Micmac burying ground, but three times Louis doesn’t listen.  The first is when Ellie’s cat, Church, is run over in the road.  When Church comes back, he’s very different.  A once loving cat is now surly and agressive, and its death wounds are still very much visible on its body.  For fear of spoiling the book, I’m not going to mention who the other two resurrections are.

You absolutely need this book if you’re a zombie fan or a Stephen King fan !  I couldn’t put the book down, every page seemed have some new horror or tragedy.  The story is well-written, the characters and dialog are engaging, and the ending is fantastic.  In my opinion, “Pet Sematary” is Stephen King’s best and most direct addition to the zombie culture.