Life is Strange: Before the Storm is a game about what happens while you are busy making other plans.
Moscone Center is named after George Moscone. Dude was mayor of San Francisco in the 70's. Moscone was assassinated, some retired cop ran up on him and his city supervisor Harvey Milk one day because the cop was mad that Harvey Milk got his job. So it goes.
Parking at Moscone is impossible (well, impossibly expensive), same with every other place south of market. It's better to take the BART, something rarely said in the bay area. I never found many occasions to be in SoMa until the office moved there. It moved right across the street, plopped on top of that Italian restaurant and Starbucks. Convenient.
My buddy was working the game developers conference in Moscone and wanted to check out the new digs. I was like, cool. So we headed up and I'm in there showing my ass, giving super extra handshakes to people I maybe shared five email chains with, talking all loud, stunting above and beyond the necessary.
We headed over to the window overlooking the city and started to reminisce. He pointed out Maritime Hall, I mentioned how dumb he was for convincing me to climb up on the roof one night to sneak into a rave. He reminded me we got in.
I pointed out the coffee shop he would drag everyone to in support of his budding slam poetry career. He reminded me there was a time I wore JNCO jeans, I wasn't sure what he was talking about cause I never wore those. He was trippin' cause I don't remember that.
I asked him how his wife and kids were, he said they were fine, said his oldest was starting third grade and sent him an email containing a pro and cons list for why she should have a cell phone. Told me he drinks in the bathroom sometimes, and that his kids will knock on the door and he gets scared, like, legit scared of a child.
I couldn't relate to his struggle because my life is awesome so I told him a story about how two weeks ago I put a pot of ramen on the stove and then took a nap, and how I woke to a fire alarm and my cat slapping me in my face. The point of the story was to convey that parenthood is hard. His face made me feel he felt sorry for the cat.
I asked him how his new game was going, he told me he was tired of all of the bullshit hoops console companies made him go through, said he was officially joining us in the PC Master Race. I asked him if he knew what master race meant. He said it was an expression used by Nazi's for the race they wanted to create, a pure race of white people suited to take over the world.
I asked him if he thought the normalization of expressions like that are irresponsible. He replied, yeah they are, but we should be fine because there are no Nazi's around anymore and the expression PC master race applied to everyone, so it was taking the word back like black people and the word nigger.
I asked him if all Nazis were dead then who would be getting the expression back? He replied he didn't know the details and I needed to fuck off because I was making him think about uncomfortable things and that I always do it on purpose to make him feel bad about himself and his actions and that he is super not racist because he has black friends (motions to me) and reminded me of the black girl he had sex with that one time and that should really be the end of it.
I stopped talking about it but I never let it go. That happened in 2015 I believe. From now to then I have been biding my time, hoping some way, even one American Nazi would rear it's head so I could deliver it to him like Clegane dropping that white walker box in front of Cerci. Needless to say, 2017 has been a banner year for me. I have been working on the email to this guy for two straight months, it's fire. It's so fire.
I hope information made it home. Hurricane season is no joke, I hope all are well and safe. Also JOBZ.
The Protoculture Mixtape : Issue : People : Cranium
