In what may be a first, I’m actually posting this from the Macbook Pro laptop resting on, well, my lap. Normally that’s inadvisable, as the heat emitted from these otherwise sublime pieces of hardware is considered a little excessive for close contact with the trouser area. But at this point, even our laptops have red-rimmed monitors and keep posting pitiful requests for us to pour coffee through their cooling slots.
It is safe to say that the badgers are starting to come in from the long grass for us, their chunky, jagged teeth glinting in the moonlight of sleep deprivation. I understand that these are the kind of hours our technical editor and general Machinima impressario Phil Rice keeps on a regular basis. I can only assume the man has frontal lobes which can shatter glass at a hundred paces with nothing but vibration.
We’re about to run off to Short Fuze again, about whom I would say very nice things, but for one small problem. These people are sufficiently wired to the global Interweb that were I to say, for example, that they may succeed in transforming Machinima into something much larger through nothing but their change in outlook and unwillingness to settle for any goal less than “a million kids making movies”, they’d already know that I’d said that by the time we arrive in the office, as the sum total of human knowledge is fed directly into their brains via the unnatural knot of high-bandwidth cabling attached directly into Matt Kelland’s belly.
Were I to say that, in two hours yesterday, I succeeded in crafting a tolerable crowd scene and soliloquy from the Bard, using the Moviestorm software I’d seen exactly twice before, I’d arrive to see it daubed on the wall of their conference room in the excess brain fluid of their army of Daves and Bens.
And were I to say that the raw enthusiasm of the entire staff is energising, and that I’d never seen a Machinima tool development where every single developer seemed to be energetically talking about the films they themselves wanted to make in their spare time using the tool that is their day job, it’s highly possible that Short Fuze would in fact be aware of that statement before I made it, as Dave Lloyd swayed in the grip of an automatic writing trance, eyes glazed, mouth muttering disjointed syllables that might sound to an expert like the last remains of the long-dead Mesopotainian language, and one hand clutching the eldrich remains of a US Robotics 28,000 baud modem through which the dark gods to whom they owe their allegiance whisper the future of the Internet before it is made.
So I won’t. There are some things too strange and fantastic for even your humble correspondants to dare.