That and building bunkers to survive the inevitable libcuck apocalypse, which definitely didn’t collapse in a hard rain.
Oh man, I forgot about the pictures of the bunker.
I’ll always be fond of him saying muskets fired shot the size of a baseball
Classic. Let’s not forget cars bouncing off of him and/or wrapping around his superior bone density when they strike him in traffic.
I like how he came up with comic book origin for himself, eating lye as a child and instead of killing him it altered his genetic structure and brought out all the dormant Neanderthal genes, transforming him into what he is today, an autistic Neanderthal with titanium bones and, from the only picture I’ve ever seen of him, a big tub of lard around his middle.
so this makes derek smart look good in comparison?
Oh man, I like Derek. He’s… a character and all, but he’s no Cleve.
You remember the story about the people he worked with? I’m going to go find that…
Oh, here’s a good one - The Identity and Value of Cleve Blakemore
This is a Koontz thread about Cleve. It’s so meta the internet is in danger of flying up it’s own asshole.
Is this real?
Never really got into this whole comedy/drama but reusing assets might explain the long delay. Just wait until everyone forgets.
Here’s some greatest hits
You’ve already talked to me, in person, many times Peter on the job we worked together on. What was my problem? Was I a hater? Or was I somewhere between 1000 and 10,000 times better read, better thought, more experienced and more widely exposed to the realities of the world than probably anybody you’ve ever known in your entire adult life?
In all honesty, Pete, you don’t really think that a guy who has had his ass planted as an animatronic in front of a CRT screen the past ten years could hope to hold a candle to a human being like me, do you? It would be like comparing an animal who has spent his entire life in captivity in a tiny cage with a free roaming Wolverine.
This is pretty much the life story of everybody you know, Pete:
Lived with mum n’ dad in little middle class house in all-white suburb.
Went to college after graduating from higher school, at no time any thought processes actually triggered in brain, no need for them, mostly existed in hallucinogenic fake reality that was combination of old episodes of Gilligan’s Island and Star Trek.
Graduated with specialist degree in technical skill, majored in marxist brainwashing.
Hired out of school where worked at meaningless day job, earning revenues for government as slave in fiat money system, nights occupied by idle chatter about spectator sports, consumer goods and childless random sexual encounters or possible encounters. Life basically like that of main character in Brazil except with less dismal looking buildings.
Bought lots of junk promoted in popular culture and lived vicariously through the accounts of the lives of celebrities.
Right?
Now, compare this with my life, Pete. I won’t bore you with details, but :
Grew up moving weekly in single parent broken home, experienced enormous tragedy and loss before I was even out of high school.
After being diagnosed as a savant at 9 years old, spent most of my life completely ignoring educational system and instead teaching myself through a self-imposed regimen of reading 8 hours a day, 7 days a week, for around 20 years.
At 22 years, had visited half the nations on Earth in the military and worked beside the other races up close and personal for nearly four years on a daily basis less than inches away.
At 24 years old, apparently went through some Bruce Banner type of physical metamorphosis where I went from being a slim, mild mannered intellectual and turned myself (without steroids) into a hellish super-powered comic book character with the strength of ten men.
Life from 25 to 30 was just a wee bit short of a full-on John Woo film, with an epic battle in the streets of Los Angeles during the riots with automatic weapons and full roundhouse spinning kicks keeping the Zulu hordes at bay until the National Guard could arrive. This was my final year before migrating to Oz, you see. So while you were laughing yourself silly over Seinfeld at home, masturbating and building your Nintendo Pog collection, I was smashing through the plate glass windows of department stores in stranglehold death locks with these great diversity enrichers you’re always telling me I’ve got it all wrong about. You claim I just don’t know what I’m talking about you see, because you just rented the latest Denzel Washington film and were just flabbergasted by the noble spirit of this supernegro and can’t see how anybody would ever consider themselves anything but a second class citizen in comparison and how the most wonderful thing that could happen to any of us is to someday get the opportunity to force our girlfriends to fellate one of these fine princes of the universe.
But I’m the one who is just not right in the head, you see. I’ve got it all wrong. Uh-huh. I’m the one who needs to get hisself more edujmacated.
You know what somebody said to me the other day?
“Your problem is all this independent reading you do. If you were more like other people and just read the books that everybody knows are important and stayed away from books in general, plus you should watch more television, you’d be more like all of us and not so weird. I mean nobody reads nowadays, it’s practically antisocial to read. Reading can make a person act really odd so it’s their fault if they end up in trouble with the law.”
Well, you’d reckon, wouldn’t you?
Derek is pathological; he has a compulsion to respond to anyone talking about him negatively, even though he’s sufficiently intelligent and self-aware to know it’s self-destructive behavior. Like Anthony Weiner and sexting; they are tragic figures.
Cleve, on the other hand, is truly crazy. Just bonkers. He believes the crap he says.
All that said if Grimoire is a real successor to Wizardry 7 I’ll buy the game. Cleve never threatened to sue me.
That’s just offensive stuff.
And so the end result is Cleve works for decades on a single game, and digs holes in the ground to hide in like a scared rabbit. Not exactly much of a superhero, as he claims.
Oh god, I forgot about the race war stuff.
Yeah, Cleve’s a real treasure.
I mean it’s a little difficult to finish the greatest game ever coded when you’re too busy saving the world from the, ah, how does it put it there. . . Zulu hordes?
Yet…
And comparing rioters, of any race, to actual Zulu warriors, is tremendously offensive to, well, actual Zulus, who were genuine bad asses.
Cleve is still a grifter, looking for a mark, and this still will never ship.
But not a lovable grifter like Hooker or Gondorff, man, nothing like them. They were cool.
It would explain how the game was already nearly finished in 1998.
OTOH, I don’t think Sirtek would have funded a +600 hour game, if it actually is that long.
Or maybe they just funded the first 100 hours and then tried to cancel it…
IT HAS BEGUN!
