Clod of Cthulhu: Hard to Come Up With a Pun When You’re Eel

Running on massive sleep loss and waning-but-present illness, here. I’ve already written 2000 words of humor-like product tonight, and I’m not sure how much more I can squeeze out before I collapse from exhaustion, so I’m just going to ride the Cthulhu Train until my word text stops Englishing properly. I wouldn’t even be writing this post, but I feel guilty that I didn’t manage one while studying last night, so I’m just gonna grit my teeth and take one for the Hammer. Anyway, it might be a bit short, so sorry about that.

When we last left Jack Walters, he was planning on springing Burnham from his jail cell in the center of town. Jack’s plan seems to be:

1.)    Evade the disorganized, poorly-armed Dagon militia on the outskirts.
2.)    Head towards the police station, where the concentration of heavily-armed disciplined police officer cultists is the strongest.
3.)    Spring Burnham from jail, thus ensuring that a.) you are doubly conspicuous and b.) the fuzz has all the more reason to hunt you down.
4.)    Escape. This was impossible before, when it was just you against an entire city, but now that it’s you and an unarmed shop clerk against an entire city, you figure you can pull it off.

Yes, apparently Jack has concluded that the best way to free Burnham is to get himself killed going up against a jail full of armed police officers. I would argue that a better plan would be to escape, tell someone—anyone—about what had happened, then watch the National Guard curbstomb Innsmouth and demand Burnham’s release. There are two advantages to this plan: firstly, it has a lower risk of injury or death involved, and secondly, it’s not stupid as all hell.

Muttering under my breath, I make my way to the jail. All of the streets around it are full of patrolling cultists—the place looks like the sidewalk outside Murdering Stupid Outsiders Expo 1933 (special live show by The Ordinators). I can barely get near the building without getting ventilated from one angle or another. But that’s okay, because it’s at this point I find…

…a crowbar.

Back when Half Life was released, much ado was made over the fact that you start out without a weapon. The first fifteen minutes are spent moving about the facility, going about your daily routine of riding the tram and putting up with jackhole co-workers until a sour test chamber experiment more or less ruins your day. Even after that goes completely haywire and aliens start invading the building, it’s another four or five minutes until you find a crowbar, and you encounter at least one (minor) enemy in that time that you’re forced to simply outrun. It was revolutionary; never before had acquiring one’s melee weapon caused so much joy and relief.

Fast forward to Call of Cthulhu: Dark Corners of the Earth. I had been playing for about three hours without getting a weapon of any kind. In that time, I had gone up against an entire city’s worth of evil cultists, all of whom were armed to the teeth and capable of killing me with ease. I had also encountered evil gods, poison spiders (in the sewers), and the tantalizing hint of a shoggoth.

This crowbar was a cool breeze on a flatulent summer day.

So, through the cell bars, I can meet the inmates. The first one is Burnham. Burnham is elated to see me—it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the evil fish-people who threw him in jail for no reason aren’t planning to do anything nice with him, and the fact that I’m also a fugitive confirms his worst suspicions about the murderous extent of Innsmouth’s xenophobia. He agrees to escape with me, and gives me some helpful advice on how to get him out of his cell, but it turns out not to be necessary—the bars melt away into butterflies, and he crawls out through the window and calls his magical hot air balloon to take us away.

Oh, wait, sorry, that didn’t actually happen. He doesn’t believe there’s anything wrong, he’s extremely unhelpful, and he wants me to go away. I’m actually really glad I came to free this guy, because if nothing else it demonstrates that Jack isn’t the dumbest guy in the Western Hemisphere.

I get inside by spooking Burnham’s neighbor, who’s a lunatic, and causing the jailor to come outside to investigate. I’m not totally sure why he did this—he says something like, “Something must have riled up the prisoner,” but given the guy’s mental state I’m thinking he could be worked into a frenzy by a leaf of romaine lettuce. Whatever, I’ll take any help I can get—as long as it brings a tender skull within whacking distance of my new best friend, it’s all good. Of course, this situation calls for stealth. There’s not a really a whole lot of profit in charging a shotgun-wielding murderer when all you’ve got is a glorified prying tool. So I slink into the shadows, waiting for the jailor to lurch his way outside. He opens the door and shambles out, slowly, pacing down the wall towards the prisoner’s window. Silently, I begin to shadow him. I follow in his footsteps, the sound of his booted tread masking my own. Inch by inch, I draw closer to him—the crowbar hums in my trembling hands,. I tighten my grip, step into range, and like a pouncing tiger I swing—

It connects directly with the back of his head. He goes, “Oof,” and shuffles a little.

Uh. I swing again. He says, “Oof.” I’m impressed at his sportsmanship—he has made absolutely no move to turn around and blow me away.

I swing again. He says, “Oof,” and falls over.

Victory?

Oh-ho-ho, looks like I’m going up in the world. Before, I thought I’d have to go up against all the other officers in the jail using only my crowbar—an activity without much future in it, you can imagine. But now I’ve killed a guy holding a shotgun—by the Law of the FPS Jungle, this shotgun is now my property. So give it here, that I might…

At this point, his body—and the gun—fade away.

What? I don’t get to pick up his gun? I don’t—I don’t even get to take his ammo, for when I do get a gun?

What the hell, developers? Were you afraid this game made too much sense?