BLITZEN'S PROFILE

ok mine is done, how do i put it on the website let me try and figgre this out hmmmm....



Its your run of the mill point-and-click-em-up adventure game extraordinaire. 42 colours total, according to photoshop.

CHAPTER 2

I followed the viking about 100 meters outside the doors he helped me into a VTO1 at the landing pad. I sat in the back seat as he clamped down the hatch and prepped the nav for takeoff. My stomach grumbled loud enough for him to turn his head back and say, “We'll feed you once we get home. My name's Georges, by the way.”
The cockpit was stuffy and I fell asleep about five minutes into the flight. I woke up when I felt the ship land. “We're here.” The airlock hissed and Georges swung the hatch open. I hobbled out of the VTO, making the mistake of trying to jump down onto unhealed feet.
I took a look around at the complex Georges called home. It looked more like a prison than anything else. Georges led me inside and introduced me to a very large and muscle-bound fellow, who shackled my hands and feet. He rolled up my sleeve and tore the bandage off my arm, took a scanner and ran it over the scabby print. The goon squinted at the readout on the scanner's screen.
“Its the off-worlder. I think Pryce wanted to see him when he came in,” said Georges. He nodded goodbye to me and I was led into a lift and down a couple of fancy, wood-paneled halls, past empty desks and offices with their lights turned off. Must've been a weekend. We ended up in front of two tall, glass doors that led into a big office with a polished concrete floor. It was dark in there, despite the fact there was someone sitting center-stage, at a desk, working away on a flickering blue monitor and keyboard. He looked up when we entered, and straightened his back in his chair.
“Ah, you must be the new guy. I have to say that I don't usually meet acquisitions in person, but you are a bit of a special case then, aren't you?” He was tall, slim, with a bit of a long face and his hair slicked back. He had on a really nice suit. “I'm Adelaide Pryce, Operations Manager.”
We stood in silence for a beat after the introduction. I worked up the gall to say something. “Mister Pryce, where am I?”
“You don't know?”
“I hadn't asked, until now.”
“Oh, well, you're in the Office and Administration wing of the Harland Ichabod Corporation complex outside of Garenthal, Hallicarn.”
“And where is that?”
“...In Hallicarn.”
“No. What planet?”
“Niveon.” The name didn't ring a bell. But then if I couldn't remember my own name, how could I be expected to run an index of planets through my head.
“Uh-huh.” I took a look around the room and shook my chains a bit before looking up at him and saying bluntly, “So... how do I get out of here?”
He breathed a short, condescending sigh as he thumbed at the pen on his desk. “You need to understand something. There is no sentence, there is no visitation schedule, there is no parole, there is no time off for good behavior. You are not a prisoner, you are a slave. We own you. You the property of Harland Ichabod Incorporated. Your cell is your storage area, your purpose is your labor.”
I blinked vacantly at the floor in front of my feet. My shackled hands started to quiver and shook the chains that were sticking to my skin. He got up out of his desk and walked around the front to lean up against it.
“I run this complex. I decide who does what, who goes where, who gets fed, who gets clothes, who gets to shit, who gets to breathe. As long as you are here, you are mine.” He stood up and started pacing the room, “Having said that, there are some things you can expect from us. If you work hard, you'll be well fed. If you do what you're told and generally don't cause a fuss for us we'll leave you to your way. Most of us are not unreasonable. You'll be given a job and you'll be expected to do it. I know you're an off-worlder so this must be all sort of new to you.” I was still reeling from the past few days, and starving. I wasn't really taking it all in, at the time. He started a bit of an interrogation.
“What did you do before?”
“I don't remember.”
He looked me up and down, and said “You have a good body. Did you do athletics?”
“I don't know.”
“Where are you from?”
“I couldn't tell you.”
“Couldn't or won't?”
“Couldn't.” I almost said “both” but I decided this wasn't the kind of guy who would want to take a joke. He paced the floor, fingers tented and against his lips, looking over at me every once in a bit.
“How would you feel about killing another man?”
I shrugged. “It depends.”
“On what?”
“On the man, I suppose.” I worked up the nerve to ask something that I had been dying to know. “I'm really hungry. Are you going to feed me?”
“Yeah, you'll be processed and in the population before dinner time, don't worry.” He sat in his chair and spun around a couple times, put his feet up and grabbed his keyboard and dropped it onto his lap and plucked away at it. “I think we'll put you into Hydroponics, to build up your strength. After that, I'm thinking you'd make a good fit for E and P.”
“E and P?”
“Events and Performances.” There was a pause and he looked up at me as if he expected me to say something.
“I dunno how I feel about that.”
“Well, Mister...” He was waiting for my name. I said nothing. “You don't have to feel any way about it. You don't have a choice.”
He motioned to the entirely-too-large fellow behind me to take me for processing. After a scrub-down and a delousing, they gave me a gray woolen sweater and some thick pants and walked me down a hall to my cell. The iron bars slid open, and I saw a cot, a sink, a toilet, and up in the corner, a tiny window, snowed over from the outside. I took two steps in and they shut the cage behind me.
When you're the new guy anywhere, its always the same. You don't know anybody so the people who are first to come up and introduce themselves are either people who are far too friendly or those lacking in friends. Chow time was no real exception. They had us at tables in a giant cafeteria that looked more like an assembly line than an eatery. I really didn't care to make friends, I was too busy eating. For all the shit they put you through, they feed you well, I'll give 'em that. There was steak and potatoes and gravy, macaroni salad, fried chicken, tropical fruits of all kinds. I thought to myself that maybe these guys were spoiled if they ate like this every day. I stuffed my gullet to the point that when they waddled me back to my cell, I passed out nearly right away, but woke up at least three times during the night to drop cargo.

Come sunup, Pryce was standing outside the cell flanked by two toughs. I know now that this is not a courtesy he performs for everyone. “Get up, I'm going to show you Hydroponics.” I got up, got dressed and they let me out of the cell. They didn't shackle me this time. I guess he figured I wouldn't try anything with the two brutes following us.
“You really do need a name, Mack.” Pryce and I walked beside each other, down the aisle of iron bar doors.
“I wish I could help.”
“I guess we'll just call you Mack for now. It was my dog's name when I was a kid.”
“That's sentimental.”
“You're going to be a personal project of mine.”
“A pet, you mean?”
“Sort of.” We walked into a lift.
“I don't cuddle.” The doors closed on us.

Hydroponics is basically what it sounds like. There is a giant underground greenhouse, it must be miles long, filled with nurseries, stacks of plants and lights about 40 meters high, and long, narrow stretches for trees. Its hot and generally a bit humid down there. Pryce brought me to the foreman. “Our planter died of a stroke last week. He'd had the job for twenty-six years. He was as strong as an ox, he was.”
“This job is not so bad,” said Pryce. “Its hard work but it will get you in shape.”
“What do I do?”
“You're gonna plant trees. We've prepped about 40 miles of soil beds, and you just basically have to put the seedlings in the ground.”
The foreman interjected, “Firion makes robots that does this sort of thing but they are pretty expensive, and they are actually sort of slow compared to a well trained planter, who might do seven thousand trees a day, so we've always just used human labor.”
So they gave me shoulder bags and a shovel and for the next nine days I put fake trees into fake dirt so they could grow fake apples. It was really hard work, but I didn't see anyone all day except the foreman, and once in a while Pryce would come down and ask me how it was going. I usually said 'fine' without looking up. Those days run together. Work all day, chow time in the mess, and then back to bed. It didn't take long for me to adjust to the new balance on my feet, and the moist air was good for the frostbite. I ate well and slept well, and I felt healthy again by the end of it. In fact, I came back to my room at the end of the ninth day of planting to a note on my bed saying, “Tomorrow we're going to put you in the arena.”

Pryce met me the next morning much as he did the week before. We took the walk over to the lift, passing rows of men still asleep in their bunks. I decided to pick his brain as long as I had his attention.
“I haven't seen any women since I got here.”
“We keep females on different levels.” I processed what this meant.
“So these guys never have sex?”
“They don't need sex.” I guess he was right. If you work hard enough you don't even think about it, as long as you are kept busy. “Manual override” once in a while was enough to keep a man from going sick, I suppose.
“What about kids?”
“There are no kids here.” The thought depressed me a little.
“So how many people do you have here?”
“17 654 labor, 2 341 staff, 178 administration.”
“What do you guys do here again?”
“Lotsa things. We make shit.”
“What kind of shit?”
“Whatever we can sell. There was an opening in the shoe market in this sector so we turned one of our divisions to producing shoes last month.”
“What else?”
“Replaceable machine parts, mostly. We do hydroponics to keep labor fed, but we've been know to sell overstock of that as well.”
“Do you make a lot of money?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“I meant the facility.”
“Oh. Sometimes.”
“So where does Events and Performances fit into this?”
“Most of the operations on this planet have similar things for entertainment.”
“So I'm going to be an entertainer?”
“In a sense.”
“What do you mean?” Pryce looked over at me with a bit of a grin on his pale, conniving face. “There's lots of money in bloodsport in Garenthal. Lots of it. You're an oddity. You'll be a draw.”

It was the sears girl.

I agree site is sexy but I am still missing not being able to look up old forum posts by user.

I am still in this. Will post on the 10th.