Wednesday, May 21, 2008


I had my first (vaguely) Crysis-related dream last night, very delayed, since it's been a week since I finished the game. I was driving down a highway when traffic began to slow down. I couldn't see why. The car stopped working, so I put it in neutral and we got out and pushed, still on the highway; we could easily push it at the same slow speed that everyone was driving. (I don't remember how many of us there were. Three? I didn't see faces.) Eventually I got to a point where I could see that the highway was badly torn up—pieces of the road were simply missing, or cracked, or cratered, or scattered all about. It got much more difficult to push at that point, so we just pushed it off the side of the road so it wouldn't be in the way. Traffic had almost entirely stopped at that point, and suddenly I saw a rocket heading right toward us. I got out of the way. I survived. My passengers didn't.

When I picked myself up, I could see that there was a violent standoff up ahead between some people hiding in abandoned buildings, and some military types, who were blocking traffic. They were quite a distance from the highway—maybe a quarter mile or so—but that didn't stop there from being civilian casualties and massive road damage.

Suddenly I found myself in the complex of abandoned buildings. The military types and the "bad people" were still fighting, and it wasn't long until the military retreated or was all killed or otherwise left. It was just me and the people who kept firing rockets at the road. I hadn't been fighting at that point, but once I realized it was only me, I left my hiding spot, and one by one, I snuck around, waiting for people to turn corners, and punched them in the face, knocking them out. I took a gun from the first guy, but I never used it as far as I can recall; I killed everyone else there stealthily, hand-to-hand.

Before killing the last of the "bad people," I was joined by one of the military guys, who was only wounded but not killed in the prior fight. Once we thought that we were safe, we both saw one more person coming into the area with all of the buildings through the bushes. We hid. He looked like he was one of the civilians from the road, but the military guy said that nobody would have made it here from the road without being seen (hmm, I did), and it was likely a trap. He said that we should kill him. So I did. I snuck up behind him and snapped his neck. As he fell to the ground I saw that he was carrying photography gear—he was a reporter, from the road.

Once I was again pretty sure that I was safe, I went and hid in a room. Several minutes later, I heard a knock. I slowly opened the door to find people in baby blue aprons and dust masks; I was surprised to see them and yelped. The hispanic woman at the door spoke to me.

Woman: We're here to clean for you, Meeeester Spomer. My, you certainly murdered a lot of people today!
Me: I... I didn't murder them. It was self-defense. I don't know how I got here...
Woman: Sure! Whatever you say! We are just here to clean.

The much taller cleaning lady removed her hat and mask to show that she wasn't a cleaning lady at all, but rather a guy that I had been driving with, who had survived the initial attack. I didn't ever find out what happened to the other passenger. The dream ended.