Issue : People : Baseboards

The guy that planted that fruit company died a while ago, and wasn't in the ground long before most people had stuff to say about how he lived. He was all types of dicks and whatnot in every bodies memory, to the point where some even went as far as to say, "Well good riddance." Yeah, he was probably an asshole, being an artist tends to do that to people.

But it usually turns out to be a chicken or egg situation. See the thing about stuff levied against the guy that planted the fruit company is that the bulk of references people have to cite his dickitude are located around the end of his life, which is hard for me to swallow, as in my experience interacting with them most elderly people act like complete jerks at first glance, but further examination of what they say reveals the words of people that know they don't have much time left, and have 0.00 % interest in fucking around.

Take for instance how the dead fruit guy came up as a young turk. Dude was really into the artistic side of computers and only cared about the computer side in terms of making it easier for noobs to use. But it was all good because there was another guy across the way that was doing the exact same thing but backwards. The fruit guy started out by slapping together an out of the box rig and said, "There you go, this can do with that, go play." Nerds was falling all over themselves, but oddly enough regular citizens were falling all over themselves as well, shit was candy.

Next he said, well, the fundamentals are down, lets make the inside perty as well, so he wen't splashed some color on that shiz, put some more tech in the grill, and sat back. Crickets, the tech he put in was too expensive for the regulars, and he compounded this by linking up with the guy across the street because they were both new to the show and it made sense to him.

The regulars felt betrayed and let him know, and the non computer peeps in his company smelled blood in the water, because for a long time they always saw him like the consumers were beginning to. They wanted to use computers to sell other stuff and the fruit company guy only gave a shit about computers, to the point where he didn't mind losing a buck or two. They saw the opening and they took it, the guy that started the fruit company was out on his ass, such a dirty game.

But he didn't trip, because the cocky asshole knew that without him the company was gonna fall right on his ass, as everybody still in the building had been ordered to provide the people what they might want, and the guy that planted  the company was creating what he wanted, and letting the transitive property take effect.

Anyway, long story mid the planter dude tossed a couple bucks to some computer artist buddies of his that did weird things with cartoons. That toy stuff blew up and made him rich(er), then he turned around, bought his company back, and went on a tech killstreak that lasted till he died. Shit was lolz.

The Protoculture Mixtape V.66 Issue : Games : Mad Hops

Issue : Games : Dust Downs

Eve is a science fiction game about space politics. We used to play it at work a lot because it was chill about how much bandwidth you had for it at any given moment. You could be running a test plan on the main screen, and skillin' and grillin' or shooting the shit with the peeps on the other, all while bumping tunes. Best part is you could step away for a scrum and come back without having to worry about the corpse walk.

We all chose a role to play, each one as important as the other. some preferred the dogfight's, some the bureaucracy. I fancied the mining and cargo transport. After a while our name rang out as the crew that could get your stuff through the shoot on sight jumps. The only major knock I heard people levy is that while pretty as shit it's not very kiss kiss bang bang, but for the most part this was the game of choice across game houses I worked at now that I think about it, which reflects well on the team that made it, kind of like the band other musicians listen to on their off time.

The crew still plays, and tries to get me back in there from time to time but (and you have to imagine a pick guitar, Cint's voice, and tumbleweed blowing by for full effect)... my space trucking days are long behind me. And I thought that was going to be forever until I heard about this new ground war the Eve crew has on the way. That is a tasty earthworm, and the definition of "We were listening." I can't really picture how the battle will play out in real time, but I'm hoping it will be something like what that old head cubicle dweller submitted to one of those websites that let's the public decide if a developers idea is worth spending their money on.

Dudes that worked under him cosign, citing him as a tough but fair type that listens to and goes to bat for his people, can take a punch, admit the problem no matter what side it fell on, add additional info as necessary, and get back into the scrap without making a big deal about it. All office traits that get rarer and rarer father up the chain of command you go. Also hear he knows his way around a bull pup, always a plus. He's got about three days left on that site to get his money right, sucks though that he couldn't get it funded internally, given his pedigree and tenure.

Don't feel right, like a college professor entering a high school talent show after a colleague of his killed there, putting his re-imagining of Moonlight Sonata up against good intentioned dudes dancing to "Pumps and a Bump." And when decision time comes around the mc hovers his downward facing palm over the professor and he only gets a confused smattering of applause. 

I'm gonna throw some bucks his way on the strength, but I ain't that worried about the old head cause if there is one thing I know for sure about them, they always find a way to get it done, one way or another. Oh and the creative heads jobs are in btw.

The Protoculture Mixtape V.65 Issue : People :  Axle's

Issue : People : Service Alpha

A long time ago I worked in the city as a medicine courier. The job entailed delivering medication to customers unable to go get them on their own, and shuttling around the physically limited to stuff like hospital appointments, the grocery store, etc...

My pop hooked me up with the gig, and hired a guy to drive the delivery van. The business was all city, as in the customers we delivered to were scattered across every neighborhood, some worse than others, others worse than them. The job required high diplomacy/charisma, which has always been my dump stat, but an area the driver had in spades, and my pop had maxed way before we came around. First thing pop told me on the first day of the job was "The only currency they accept in these areas is respect. Always give freely and never give yours away." I had no idea what the old man was talking about, too busy thinking about the games I was gonna buy after cakeing off the job, It was a really good year for games.

The driver wouldn't have appeared out of place in a Menace to Society picnic scene, but I would have in my Jinco's (f-u I said it was a long time ago), plaid hoodie, and Sal's. There would always be a group of at least ten independent pharmacists or security guards hovering around the entrance's. No one ever gave me much trouble over it besides talking shit, and when that happened I would just agree with them then change the topic to a common ground subject, usually hip hop, but it varied according to the person.

The driver always made a point to shake every bodies hand and chat them up for a bit, some would shake his hand back, some would just look at it, but nobody held us up long because they knew what we were there for, knew it was necessary, and knew his credit was good everywhere. We also approached the outside world from different mindsets, mine being "They are going to shoot me no matter what I do, so I may as well just enjoy the sunshine till I got no choice but to deal with it," and his being "Anybody try and shoot me imma shoot them right back, and loose no sleep over it." 

We found some common ground in our escapes of choice, his being tail chasing, and mine being games, but disagreed on most matters, the largest being his love of the "comic strip" Marmaduke, and his inability to grasp what I saw in Calvin and Hobbes. My core argument against Marmaduke was that the running joke was the theme, as in, "The dog is hella big and has trouble sitting in chairs, pretty funny, I get it. Oh wait that shit has been going on for years?!" His core argument against Calvin and Hobbes was that no real child would have that knowledge or vocabulary, the jokes weren't funny, and Calvin was a deeply disturbed kid that spent all day hanging out with imaginary friends. I had nothing, it did sound pretty fucked up hearing it out loud. But hey, to each their own.  

Our first customer was an invalid meth casualty with no immediate family that looked like he was going to die soon but acted like he was really looking forward to it. His apartment was decorated hoarders style and smelled like urine let sit long enough to become something else. The driver never talked to the customers, don't really know why, but I didn't mind chatting them up. Turns out the casualty was a rocker dude, and we chopped it up for a bit on that while the driver tidied up, which wasn't in our job description, but whatever, we were already there.

Nobody at work ever talked to us directly except the dispatcher, because they were scared of the driver and I was related to the boss. The dispatcher wasn't impressed with our shenanigans in the least because she had seen much worse, and was hip to why we were like that, as in she had to deal with the same people we dealt with on a daily basis and understood what that could do to someone's state of being. Not that we didn't piss her off constantly, which we did, its just that taking care of people dealt the worst possible life hand for reasons mostly out of their control is a very tough gig, and unless stuff got vented from time to time Metastasis was inevitable.

Anyway, long story medium I took that first check and bought chrono trigger from a FuncoLand up the street. Like I said it was a very good year for games. The thing is though I traded it in to the same place a couple years later for about eight real life dollars and thought I came up. That was so fuckin dumb, it probably would have been worth so much more today. Meh, such is life.

The Protoculture Mixtape V.64 Issue : Games : Pogo