The Poisoned Sponge’s recent effort into chronicling his game of Zafehouse got me thinking. It’s been a long time since I did something similar, since the communal game of Dwarf Fortress to be exact. I figured it was about time I had another shot at it.
So I present to you, on this very blog, my latest trudge through Evil Genius. It’s probably not as good as Sponge’s diary, but it will definitely be longer! Ha ha, I win that category!
Check the jump for the first entry.
I’ve been an industrial powerhouse for years. I graduated business school at the top of my class, single-handedly managed the takeovers of hundreds of powerful corporations, and made myself a hell of a lot of money. The thing is, even with all my money, my army of butlers, and my Japanese manservant, people still make fun of my because of my height.
Yes, I’ve a few inches shy of 5 foot. I am well aware of that, I don’t need you seeing the Ewok song every time I walk past you in the corridor, thank you very much. I’ve crushed numerous Fortune 500 companies between my boot in the corporate sphere, but not one of my victories seemed sufficient enough to show that, sometimes, size doesn’t matter.
Then I saw the advert.
My own desert island! A little kingdom all for myself and those who don’t judge me, I could make that work. It was a pretty expensive deal though.
Don’t get me wrong, I am exceedingly rich. There’s an old cartoon with a very rich duck, swims about in the money inside his fault, he has about enough to make a pretty sizeable lake of gold. The thing is, you can’t swim in money. I know this because I have so much that I’ve tried it, all it actually nets you is a serious headache and a smug sense of superiority. It’s the feeling that you could pay people to believe that you actually had swum around in the gold that I like. Me and that duck, kindred spirits.
Anyway, the island. I rang the number on the ad and, before I knew it, I’d purchased my own tropical sanctuary. Islands don’t come cheap of course, especially deserted ones, so by the time I had finished paying off the tax and insurance I was down to a few hundred grand. When I asked about banking facilities the saleswoman just sniggered and told me that it would probably be best if I took my cash with me. Banks aren’t too keen in setting up branches on desert islands, and from my understanding the nearest branch is a two hour helicopter ride away.
I’ll tell you all this now, so that you may avoid the embarrassment I had to go through. When you close your account at a bank by asking for your balance in gold bullion, don’t get too annoyed when they laugh at you. Most banks don’t have the facilities to render 250k in gold, and I probably should have taken that into consideration before I had Jubei behead the bank manager. To be fair, my bank did have the means of paying me in gold, but I didn’t know that until after we broke into the vault.
Is it really bank robbery if it’s your own money?
Anyway, I finally turn up on the island, gold in hand, and what do I find there? Nothing! There was nothing there except a giant mountain and a tiny little shack. Naturally I locked my gold away inside the shack (didn’t want it melting in the harsh sunshine) and sent Jubei off to survey the land.
A quick word about my entourage. Jubei is pretty self-explanatory: my manservant, from Japan, carries a sword. He’s a loyal guy, if a bit on the quiet side. I also brought a few other members of staff along, but they’re not too bright. They pretty much do what they’re told, eventually anyway, but they’re not that reliable. Still, I’m glad to have them. Their presence means I don’t have to do any real work, just like usual.
It wasn’t long, however, before I began to wonder where we would all live. The shack was too small for all of us, even before we moved the gold in. Thankfully, Jubei came up with the perfect solution. He was sharpening his sword on the side of the mountain, running the blade across a particularly craggy crag, when he managed to shear it straight off the rest of the mountain. As I watched it tumble to the ground I wondered if, just maybe, we could tunnel our way into the mountain to provide a little shelter.
I say we but what I really meant was my staff. I set them to work at once, sketching rough blue prints onto the photo of the island that came with my welcome brochure. To my surprise the guys did an excellent job. I was expecting them to mess it up, leave us with a living quarters that looked like a council estate version of Lost, but they managed to pull it off. By the end of the day we had a nice and shiny bedroom built. Jubei insisted on calling it a barracks, but then he never really got used to civilian life after his time in the defence force.
That wasn’t good enough though. I mean, a group of guys all crammed in together, you need a way to unwind. We needed television, so I drew up plans for a small rumpus room with monitors and computers and whatnot. It took a while to build, but again the staff did an excellent job. We got a deal on the computers too, came with this excellent software that give you a sort of segmented view of the world, with all the top news stories littered about according to nation, very cool.
It wasn’t long after the computers went online that Jubei came to me with some troubling news. Investigators had turned up and were roaming my island! Nosey little bastards. I mean, how often do you wander onto your neighbours property, stroll into his house and photograph all his belongings? It’s just not right, and they think they can get away with this because I’m a little below average height.
I wasn’t going to stand for this. I’d come to the island for a bit of piece and quiet, and this was doing a fine job of getting in the way. I told Jubei to deal with them, and he cut them up like raw fish.
HE left them to rot in the sun, which was revolting. They were going to start to smell, then putrefy and bubble and all sorts of revolting stuff. I had to get them out of the sun, so I built a freezer.
I know what you’re thinking, it’s a little macabre to keep corpses hung upside down in a meat locker, and you’re right. The thing is (and this is well worth remembering) this island belongs to me so I can do whatever the hell I like. Besides, I needed somewhere to store the other food anyway, and you never know when a (reasonably) fresh corpse might come in handy. Win win situation really.
Not much happened for a while after that. We loaded the bodies into the freezer, and then I sent some guys to the mainland to go get some more of my money. Well, technically it wasn’t mine. Those snooping bastards had just annoyed me so much that I felt it only prudent to get myself some reparations, so I sent my guys to extract some funds from the accounts of the now dead trespassers. Then I went a little off the deep end.
I stole a library.
I don’t want you to judge me, just hear me out first. It was a university library, and they weren’t really using it anyway. Besides, I needed some entertainment that wasn’t one of the many regional editions of Big Brother we can get via our satellite dish.
I also had a maid arrested, tortured and killed, but that’s no big deal.
Anyway, I should probably bring this letter to a close right now. I’m trying to write this in the dark and it’s pretty difficult. I think my attempt to acquire reparations has forced the mainland to cut off our power, but I’m working on acquiring some old soviet era generators. They’re pretty expensive, but if it will break our reliance on the mainland it can only be a plus. The staff don’t seem to mind too much though, they’re enjoying a game of table tennis in the new staff room I had them build. Not sure how they can see the ball, but never mind.
Jubei tells me that a few guys in a similar situation to me have sent their regards. Apparently they are people who had to carve their own niche in the world so as to escape persecution. Maybe I’ll have some over for tea soon. I’ll have to get the place looking spick and span first though, and get myself a bedroom of my own. I’m the master of this island, it just seems wrong that I have to share with the staff.
I should probably move the gold inside too, the shack doesn’t look too secure.
Anyway, I hope this letter finds you well. I’ll write again soon, once I get everything sorted out.