"Two possiblities exist. Either we are alone in the universe, or we are not. Both are terrifying"  - Arthur C. Clarke

I have been on a Sci-fi kick. Like, hard. Like I'm ready to invest in a telescope and start pretending I didn't drop out of Astronomy hard. What started this longing to explore what lay beyond the stars, you ask? This current fascination of mine started simply enough, as so many of my impromptu obsessions usually do. With an impulse purchase. I was at Best Buy grazing the new releases like an over fed cow, when a large purple and slate box caught my eye. The Starcraft 2: Heart of the Swarm Collector's Edition stared back at me like a newly discovered alien hieroglyph just begging to be brought home for further analysis.

I perused the fancy packaging, flipping it over to practially memorize the game summary and tiny screenshots that decorated the back of the box. Granted none of this should be new to me. I own Wings of Liberty and have been bed fellows with Blizzard for several years now. I know what their games look like. I know what Starcraft is and how terrible I am at it. I knew in my head that I hadn't gotten even halfway through Wings of Liberty's campaign before I got stuck and eventually lost interest. This was not 80 dollars I needed to spend.

Yet somehow, the box captivated me. Drawing me in with its promise of behind-the-scenes featurettes and limited editon DLC for Diablo 3 and World of Warcraft  (both of which I had been actively playing at the time) I just couldn't say no. 20 hours later and I'm watching the Heart of the Swarm credits roll and I am wishing they would go faster so I could start a new game on Wings of Liberty. I forgot how much  fun Starcraft could be. Even though I'm so bad I had to lower the difficulty to casual to enjoy the game without fear of getting stuck, I had a blast. The story, hailed as a cheese fest by most reviews, had me cheering in my seat. Kerrigan is a total badass, and this game made me care about the world of Starcraft in a way I just hadn't until then.  Suddenly I was enthralled with the mysteries of the Protoss. I felt empowered commanding the unstoppable Zerg swarm, washing over my enemies like a force of nature. I wanted to be Jim Raynor. Piloting the Hyperion, navigating a volatile galaxy at war with itself.

This lead me to rediscover another game I haven't picked up in a while. XCOM: Enemy Unknown. I pre purchased Bioshock: Infinite a while back and had been keeping my eye on the pre purchase rewards because the last unlock was a free Steam key for XCOM. Yet another game I already owned and had not finished. To my surprise, I got my key already; before Bioshock releases (I wasn't expecting this). I had to install it straight away to see how the PC version stacked up. Holy crap. Yet again I was drawn into a game about aliens and war that I had shelved without giving it a fair shake. I mean, I loved XCOM back when I played it on the Xbox, I just got distracted by other games like a bright, shining light in the woods, and was abducted by them.

Fast forward to now. I'm currently running through XCOM from the beginning (and doing substantially better the second time around) and slowly regaining ground in Wings of Liberty (Heart of the Swarm was a much better campaign). I'm trying to make a list of cheesy B sci-fi films on Netflix to watch and even considered downloading War of the Monsters on PSN (a PS2 favorite of mine). So next time you find yourself with nothing to play, consider choosing a genre that you like and returning to some older titles that fit the bill. Find movies that will syke you up to play them. Head down to your local comic store and pick up some books that look like they're the in the same vein as what you're currently into. As someone with a huge backlog right now and a tight budget, getting this much enjoyment out of games that I already own feels great. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm on the phone with SETI and I think we found something...

Stranger In a Stranger Land

Everett Byrne took a long slow drag from his cigarette, soaking in the awesome sight that now beheld him. Towering buildings dressed with propaganda posters and recruitment flyers. Self proclaimed patriots shouting and prophesizing from every street corner. Horse drawn carriages ferrying men of self appointed office and importance across immaculate cobblestone streets. Disgusting.

"Just what we need. Another Irish man in Columbia," Everett looked behind him to see an elderly man sweeping the front of his shop, eyeing him cautiously. Everett smiled coyly.

"It's the red hair en't it? Would you believe me if I said I was a leprechaun?" Everett formed claws with his fingers and raised his hands above his head in an attempt to mock the man.

"You'll find no pot of gold here, boy," the old man leaned the broom against the golden railing leading up the steps and crossed his arms. "You shouldn't be here. Leave."

"I'd love to," Everett threw his cigarette down on the unblemished sidewalk and stamped it out. "Kind of a long way down though."

Later that evening after the sun had gone down and the city had become somewhat less opinionated, Everett found himself in a small tavern in the Emporia Towers district. This section of town seemed different. The rest of Columbia was nice, sure, but it was clear that this was where the wealth of the city held court. Everett's fellow bar patrons dressed elegantly, and held the arms of more than a few beautiful women. It was exactly the part of town where he would get the most looks, draw the most attention. "Good," he thought as he sipped his whiskey sour and hunched over his stool. Being noticed was probably the best way to get close to Father Comstock.

"I'm cutting you off son," the bartender withdrew the bottle from Everett's slice of countertop. "You've had enough."

"Kiss my arse, I've only had a single drink." Everett reached for the bottle and was met with a scared look.

"Like I said. You've had enough. I don't want any trouble." Everett accepted the bar keeps plea and rose from his stool, giving him a once over. He was a stout black man, wearing a stained apron which he used to wipe the sweat from his brow.

"You're in the wrong place for that." The bartender seemed to know, as Everett did, that this was a city living on borrowed time. The look in his eyes told Everett that he had a family, most likey several children, that he desperetely wanted to keep alienated from the reality of it. Everett lifted his leather coat off the seat next to him and drew it over his shoulders. Holstering a fresh cigarrete in his mouth, he headed for the door.

Outside, he noticed that the city must have settled into a southeasterly trade wind. The breeze felt good on his skin and he struggled for a second to strike a match before heading down the street past the bar. He walked slowly, observing the false calm that had claimed the night. Comstock House was a mere thirty minute walk but Everett had no intention of trying to get close to it. He would make the man come to him. 

"Hey you!" A drunken bar patron had apparently followed Everett on his short jaunt, and now called to him from some twenty feet back. Everett turned purposefully, obscuring the man's vision briefly through a veil of tobacoo smoke.

"Yes? Speak quickly, I have a date with an old friend tonight." Everett again threw his cigarette down almost defiantly and stood erect, his hands in his pockets.

"What gives you the idea you can just walk into our bar, you filthy paddy?" The man, clearly very inebriated stumbled over his coat tails and pointed at Everett.

"Well, I do apologize sir. I didn't realize that you owned that particular establishment," the wind blew Everett's thick red mane across his face and he smirked, "You really should give that bar keep a raise. I could have ended up like you tonight." At this, the man called out, and several young men stepped out from an alleyway behind Everett, holding a baseball bat and a section of chain.

The first youth charged forward with a sort of leap, aiming the bat for Everett's head. Everett caught him with a knee to the stomach however, knocking the wind out of him. Before the kid could think, Everett was on him and quickly wrestled the bat from his hands, jabbing him with the handle. His companion saw this and edged forward, swinging the chain in an arc in front of him. Everett switched his stance and used the bat to entangle the flailing chain and pull him forward. A sharp, decisive blow to the throat was all it took to render the boy no longer a threat. Everett noticed out of the corner of his eye that the drunken man had closed the gap somewhat during these few moments, and unholstered a small knife from his boot strap. The drunk noticed the blade and readied himself, but Everett simply flicked his wrist and the knife was nestled firmly in the man's chest.

Upon dispatching his three attackers, Everett took a deep breath, and clapping was heard.

"I see you haven't lost the touch," Zachary Comstock stood out on a nearby balcony, pistol now in hand. "What brings you to my fair city, hmm?"

"I think you know.." Everett clenched his fist and darted his eyes around briefly for more goons.

"Ahh yes, but she was bound to leave you eventually old chap, all can see the glory of Columbia." Comstock now aimed the pistol at Everett and continued. "The truth is friend, I know EXACTLY why you're here and I won't stop you. What you plan to do only serves to further my cause."

"I don't give a damn about your cause. She broke my heart and now I will break what you love." At these words an explosion was heard violently close, the resulting tremor shaking the ground beneath Everett's feet.

"Right on time then, good," Comstock paused and drew back the hammer on the pistol. The only thing you will break is the will of these people when they see how dangerous it is to rebel against a true patriot."

"You son of a **** where is she?"

"She is gone, a victim of the scum of this city. A scum which today, you helped cleanse." Comstock brought the pistol to his eye and smiled. "Say hello to her for me won't you?"