Archive | May, 2013

Madhere: Part One

31 May

“Hey, Darren. How soon can you get to my apartment?”

“Dunno. How important is it, on a scale of dead babies?”

“I- what? How is that even a scale?”

“Just answer the question, Todd.”

“Um, I have no idea. Three, I guess? Look, I need to talk to you about your last post.”

“Oh, did people like it?”

“I’ve had three people try to set the server on fire, strictly through the comment section.”

“Impressive. I’ll be right over.”

The phone was filled with the whining dial tone of “Todd, Darren just hung up so you should hang up too”, a familiar song to anyone who has ever had Darren hang up on them.

With a heavy sigh of irritation, Todd dropped his phone on his desk. If someone was to describe his desk, and by extension his department, it would be “cluttered”. Then, the next word would also be “cluttered”, followed by “laptop”.

(Then the describer would be stuck in a recurring loop of saying “cluttered” over and over again, a loop that would continue indefinitely until somebody punched him/her in the jaw or offered him/her sexual favours.)

(That is also how Todd gets girls.)

Not a moment after the cell phone hit the desk, Darren stormed in. Darren Wind, was his full name, as he delighted in informing drunk girls after they’ve reached the point of not remembering what the hell is going on. His ratty green hoody and strategically mussed up hair was an unmistakable calling card.

“Todd. What the hell.”

“How… how did you get here so fast?”

“I’ve been loitering outside for about two hours.” Darren flopped on the chair opposite Todd. “So, what’s u- are you wearing a fucking bow tie?!”

Todd flinched. “Yes? So?”

Todd was, indeed, wearing a bow tie. Along with a white dress shirt, purple suspenders, and a fedora.

“That is, quite possibly, the gayest thing. Ever. We’ve actually done tests, and that is the gayest thing.”

“Charming. Are we done?”

“Da.”

Todd opened his laptop again and spun his office chair around for dramatic effect. It also gave him a chance to admire the various pin-ups and posters he had adorning his cluttered (“Clutteredclutteredclutteredcluttered…”) apartment.

“That post you submitted today for Madhere… ’10 Helpful Hints For De-clawing Your Cat’?”

“Yeah, it was brilliant, right?” Darren grabbed a rubber band from Todd’s desk and fired it out the window behind Todd. Unbeknownst to either of them, the rubber band landed on a toddler, who, later in life, developed a fetish for striking girls with rubber bands during sex.

Every single one of his girlfriends would later curse this day.

“Darren, we have had four people in the comment section vomit, three people cry, six people threatened with legal action, two people called it ‘shockingly racist’ and a mind boggling eleven people call us gay.”

“How is that any different than what I do to you, every day?”

“They misspelled it.”

“THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS.”

“Goddammit, Darren!” Todd snapped. “We are a COMEDY website. Our job is to make people laugh, not make them question their religion.”

“Maybe we could do both?” suggested Darren. “Maybe a puppet show that shows Jesus Christ doing cocaine. Like a sacriligious Punch and Judy.”

“Okay, this is exactly what I’m talking about.” Todd threw up his hands in exasperation. “We’re burning out. We (by which I mean you) can’t keep writing like this and expect to get paid, and I think we need some fresh ideas around here.”

Darren laughed. “What, like another writer? Oh, come on! There is no writer on earth stupid enough to take this job. I mean, you’d have to be a class A moron to take a job with crap pay, NO hours, zero job satisfaction, and a boss with a stick up his…”

Darren trailed off.

“He’s standing right behind me, isn’t he.”

She.” corrected the voice behind him.

“Oh, for fucks sake.”

Darren spun the chair around, and came face to face (Well, face to crotch. The chair was very low.) with Miss Lilah Quintus.

She was wearing a dark red blazer, a black skirt, glasses, a red and black ribbon in her (dark red) hair, and burgundy shoes. She had on red lipstick, black earrings and a single arched eyebrow. Normally, Darren would respond to such fancy colour co-ordination in close proximity by shouting “GAAAAAAY”, but this time around, his libido scrambled up his spinal cord, grabbed his brain by the throat and hissed, “You’d better not screw things up this time.”

“Oh! Um. Hello, Miss…?”

“Miss Lilah Quintus!” supplied Todd, presumably unaware that the narration has already done so. “She’s a damn good writer, and we could use a feminine touch around here. All your dick jokes are getting a tad stale.”

“Oh, I’ll still be making dick jokes.” said Lilah, her voice rich with a cultured English accent. “I’ll just be making them in the opposite direction.”

Darren blinked as he tried to sort out which questions were his, and which were his libido’s. “Am I being fired?”

“Not so much, no.” sighed Lilah. “I’m going to be doing pretty much everything you’re doing now- that is to say, writing for Madhere- only I’ll be doing it slightly different. Basically, I’ll be reducing both of our workloads, with exactly the same pay. Woot.”

“And she studied at the university, unlike you, who learned your writing on the street.” chimed in Todd helpfully.

“The university?” blurted out Darren. “That’s so ga-”

“She’s also a lesbian.”

“-aaaareat! That’s so great.”

Lilah and Todd stared.

“I’m gone.” Darren scrambled out the door.

“Is he always so suave?

“Actually, that was pretty good by his standards. He didn’t call your outfit ‘gay’ like he’s a freaking five year old, or try to play patty-cake with your boobs.” Todd reached in to his desk, grabbed a piece of paper, and wrote another tick on the “Darren Didn’t Harass A Woman” side of the tally.

There were only two ticks on that side of the tally. We’d tell you how many were on the other side, but that would probably just depress you.

“I already emailed you all the information you’ll need.” Todd smiled. “So go on home to your girlfriend… what was her name?”

“Jenny.”

“Yeah, head home to Jenny and tell her the good news. I’m pretty sure girls like it when you obtain gainful employment. Or at least, that’s what mother keeps telling me.”

Lilah flashed a smile, one that would have surely melted Darren’s brain had he been in the room. “Thank you, sir! I have a feeling that this is going to be a great night for me and Jenny.”

It was the worst possible thing she could have said.

After Lilah flounced out of the apartment, Todd shook his head. Can’t believe I finally got another writer on staff. You’d think Darren had scared everyone off. Oh well, maybe Miss Quintus’ll make things a little better around here, he thought to himself. Or at least more interesting.

He opened his email. The newest one jumped at his eyes with flashy lights and much aplomb.

“TODD ARLONG. I HAVE WHAT YOU NEED. COME TO THIS ADDRESS, OR THEY’LL NEVER FIND THE FUCKING BODIES.”

Todd sighed.

I had to open my fucking mouth.

END OF PART ONE

The Orphaned Punchline

30 May

Some days, I wake up with a dream on my tongue.

(Lord, what a faffy way to start a post.)

I have no idea whatever it is I’m dreaming about, but whatever it is, it sticks with me. Sometimes it’s an image, like a tiny horse riding on Hitler’s back. Or a song, like that time I rapped about a talking phallus that wanted me to kill my friends.

And sometimes, just sometimes… it’s a phrase.

Like last week, for example. Last week, I woke up with only a single phrase in my mind. A punchline to a joke I never made.

“… Like a wizard saltine!”

What the fuck is the context to that line?!

Omegle: The Most Dangerous Game

29 May

(Yeah, at this point, I’ve just given up on title puns.)

Trying to get in to Omegle is a risky business. You take one wrong step in Spy Mode (which allows one to answer questions from any random person in the world) and you’ll step in to a great big pile of “I-don’t-want-to-know-what”.

It’ll take a certain kind of man to go through that chaos, and that man… IS ME.

(Possibly. I haven’t checked yet.)

Ahem.

Hey f 13 looking for CLEAN chat on kik with girls or guys no older then 14 kik me at awper009

“Clean”? You obviously don’t know how this works.

Can women be where gay men play? Fuck the military and the navy. Whites are retards Why can’t they be our slaves?

Oh, you are just precious. 

Can I fuck u? – I’m female btw

Unless you suddenly developed the ability to stick your vagina through the speakers, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.

Urgh, that mental image.

Should teens have kids?

Yes, but only if they can steal them fair and square.

If you could have three wishes what would they be (no extra wish wishes)

Whores, whores, and genie whores.

You’ve never laid in the beds that I’ve made. Don’t tell me about being afraid. You’ve never died the ways that I’ve died. What do you know about speaking to God?

Actually, speaking to God is really easy. He’s pretty laid back, and he’s a big fan of ridiculous wigs.

These are God’s chosen children.

Is it ok if I do your mom… A favor and clean the kitchen? Got ya! You should have seen your face

You… you can see my face?

OH GOD.

what’s your favorite unusual porn site ?

Disney.com, obviously!

Kissing tip #1 DON’T HAVE STANKY BREATH. Kissing tip #2. DON’T KISS WITH FOOD OR GUM IN YOUR MOUTH. Kissing tip #3 Open your mouth JUST wide enough to fit either their lower OR their bottom lip.

One second, lemme write this down. “Open mouth”, you say?

What’s the lie you tell yourself most?

“It’s totally supposed to throb like that.”

Pottermore… You’ve Got To Be Kidding Me

28 May

I, as a general rule, try to stay away from fandoms whenever possible. Something about my sparkling personality seems to make people want to hurt me, and adding in the inherent insanity of “liking something” is a recipe for disaster.

(It’s also a recipe for fine quiche, but that’s besides the point.)

So when I discover something called “Pottermore”, which is reportedly one parts Harry Potter forum, one parts interactive story, and one part “game”, I naturally stayed far, far away.

Wait, did I say “stay far away”? I meant “immediately make an account so I can get material for a post/finally have an excuse to punch Snape in the face”.

Sorry for the confusion.

Why is that owl judging me?

Once I start, the game makes me punch in my name (Avery Strangeplace, of course!), birth date (I’m pretty sure if you put in a birth date over 40, you get kicked out and they call the cops on you) and gender. (I… wait, is Avery a boy name or a girl name? Aw, screw it, it’s a boy’s name now.)

Then, once you’ve checked off what books you’ve read, it shows you a big book, with your name alongside everyone at Hogwarts with any brand recognition.

Can you say ‘PANDERING’?

Then, the website offers up a list of usernames and I- wait, whatever happened to “pick your own username”? Is that just not cool any more? Or… should I say… it’s not cool POTTER more?!

(No. No I should not say that.)

I should never say that.

Okay, fine, you guys want to play the insecure parents of the internet, that’s fine. Um, lets go with “ElmSky25684”. It’s the least “Potterish” name on their, and if anyone gets on my case, I can invite them to “suck my great elm”.

So after we trade information, I finally get invited to their flamboyantly purple home page. Then, I am led, chain and collar, through the first chapter of the first Harry Potter book. It suggests that I find “background” information, but the day I take the time to play Where’s Waldo in Harry Potter fan art is the day I get a hideous brain parasite that can only be placated with weapons grade boredom. 

And at the end of said chapter, I get my reward: a comment section!

This was a terrible mistake, wasn’t it?

A wretched hive of scum and villainy.

Said comment section is mostly filled with people congratulating each other on what a great… whatever this is. (Seriously, is it a game? A book? A forum?) It seems a little presumptuous to declare that while so far all it is is a point-and-click adventure with both the click and the adventure taken out, but hey. To each their own.

Next chapter, I take brilliant tactic of actually LOOKING for things, which gets me… nothing.

Okay, if something doesn’t happen soon, I’m burning this site down and collecting on the insurance.

I go through three more chapters, diligently clicking everything that moves as well as several things that didn’t, before SOMETHING happens: “Welcome to Diagon Alley! You can buy all your wizarding supplies here… but first, you have to find your shopping list!”

Oh for fucks sake.

So, after discovering that my zoom button no longer works on this level, and wrestling with the damn thing until it does, I finally grab the damn list. Time for a shopping montaaage!

Okay, so I got that done. What else is on the list? Wand selection (that happens to take the form of a quiz)? Sure, what the hell. The faster I get a wand, the faster I can cast an “Engorgio” spell on Draco Malfoy’s gallbladder.

Quizzing… I apparently get a “HAWTHORN WITH DRAGON CORE, THIRTEEN INCHES, SLIGHTLY SPRINGY”. And apparently all-caps is integral to the magic.

After I grab my wand, I head on to Hogwarts. (A pointless scene on the Hogwarts Express? Why, it is Harry Potter!)

Finally at the castle, I straighten my “robes” (I’m actually in a flamboyant Spanish courtesan get-up, it was cheaper at the store) and head in to put that son-of-a-bitch Sorting Hat in it’s place.

Did you hear that, hat? I will hurt you.

The Sorting Hat also takes the form of a quiz, because that’s how wizards solve everything, and bizarrely enough, one of the questions is “which super power would you have?”.

Um, excuse me! I chose to play a wizard game, which means that it’s clear what my power of choice is: Deus ex Machina, bitches!

Anyway, the Hat/quiz says that I am… a Slytherin!

Crap, now I need to start being transparently evil and grow a goatee.

(Actually, that explains a lot about me. My penchant for the colour green, the fact that snakes keeping following me around, the fact that I legitimately hate every single other House. Little things like that.)

So, now I’m let in to the Slytherine Common Room, and what a glorious sight it is! I immediately make myself at home.

“So… am I a snake now? Is that what this means? Because there really seems to be an awful lot of snakes around here.”

“Hiss. Hissss. I think.”

“Snakey, snakey, snake.”

“When can we go be evil? Like, burn down Gryffindor Tower, lock Moaning Myrtle in someone’s retainer, something like that.”

“Or, really, something about snakes. I’m really feeling a like we should have a snake thing here.”

“It’ll certainly please our interior decorator, of course.”

“Also, snake. Snake snake snake snake.”

Yeah, we’re done here.

I was trying to come in to this with open eyes, seeing it as a true fan would and all that, but this Pottermore thing has committed the cardinal sin of being boring, and for that, this thing can suck my great elm.

Dick joke swing and a miss.

Freshly Riffed 34: Nobody Gets A Little Bit Dead

27 May

Welcome back to Freshly Riffed, the only web series voted as “Most Likely To Be Ground In To A Fine Paste And Spread On The Abs On Ryan Gosling”, three years running.

There we go, I’m always appealing to my lady fans. Wait, do I even have any lady fans? Somebody should probably check on that.

According to the peculiar “pinging” noise I made when I levelled up, Freshly Riffed is where I make fun of the titles of Freshly Pressed blog posts. Also, come on?! I’m only level three?! Now I’m going to have to go kill a dragon or something!

Each title will be linked to the original author, and remember; All mockery is for mockery’s sake only. And this is only so people will know who I am, and can call me out on a later date.

(No, I’m not making that up, somebody actually did that. Gosh, I feel famous!)

Ahem.

20 Ways Horse Riding Becomes Life Itself: You have the weirdest cult.

To The Me Of Ten Years Ago: “Dear Me Of Ten Years Ago; Wearing boots on your hands might seem like a good idea, but trust me, it is.”

On Art: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Skywhale: Okay, I’ve changed my mind; this is the weirdest cult.

I don’t even- just- why is- buh- WHY IS THIS A THING?!

Rejecting The Bangladesh Safety Accord: Yeah, fuck you, Bangladesh Safety Accord!

Is Possessing A Pressure Cooker A Crime?: No, but owning a toaster oven is downright Machiavellian. 

Language And Eurovision: Eurovision; it’s like x-ray vision, but a little bit more Swedish.

Twitter Vs. The Telegram: I think Twitter would be vastly improved if everyone was told to “STOP” every five seconds.

Winking: Are… are you coming on to me?

I’m not hearing a “no”…

A Contract With The Reader: Reader? I just met- wait. Crap, my contract specifically bans horrible jokes.

It Wasn’t The Cell Phone, It Was Me: Wait, so that’s the great reveal?!

Wow, this was the most disappointing murder mystery ever. 

Secure, Contain, Prote- ACK!

26 May

Hey, do you like necks?

Hopefully you just said no, because today we’re looking at SCP: Containment Breach! 

Their official motto is “Fuck Necks”.

But first, I must answer the eternal question: What the bloody hell is an SCP? Well, there’s this website, The SCP Foundation. They find these monsters, creatures, artefacts and such, and contain them to keep said monsters, creatures, artefacts from destroying the world, something that almost happens with disturbing regularity.

Anyone can update the site, which entails writing a new entry for the monsters. And HOLY HELL THERE ARE A LOT OF THEM. There’s almost 2000 of the damn things, and they range from “safe”, which means it can be left alone for a while without killing anything, “Euclid”, which means that if they get free, they’re going to kill someone, and “Keter” which means if they get free, they’re going to kill EVERYONE. 

And guess what? Now they have a video game! And I’m sure something called “Containment Breach” in a universe where a flying tomato has killed at least two people and hospitalized at least six more yet is still considered “safe” is sure to be safe and fun!

*coughcough*

The game opens in a tiny cell, with a note on a table. I flip it open, and it’s a note welcoming me to the SCP as a D-Class personnel and… oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap.

The D-Class are death row inmates, spirited away to the SCP as cannon fodder. They’re the Redshirts, the mooks, the guys they’ll throw in to a mystical blender just to see what’ll happen.

And… now I’m playing as one.

Fuck.

“Maybe if we hold really still, the omnicidal lizard won’t kill us. Right? RIGHT?!”

After hammering my head against the wall for a bit, the door opens, and an agent escorts me out. The agents are the foot soldiers of the SCP, and are considered pretty competent. Okay, except for that one time where an entire squad was murdered by non-sapient pasta.

As we wander through the facility (the agents being careful to remind me how dead I am), we reach the first containment room. A big sign sits out front: SCP-173. OBJECT CLASS: EUCLID.

Oh for fucks sake.

173 is, essentially, a hipster Weeping Angel. He came out a couple of years before the Weeping Angels, but he’s basically the same: A big statue who is indestructible, moves faster than you can believe, and snaps your neck in a heartbeat.

Oh, and did I mention there’s a blink meter? And when the meter reaches zero, you blink whether you want to or not?

This… this game hates me, doesn’t it?

DON’T BLINK.

I walk through the door, see two other D-Class, and we’re ordered to walk in to the 173 holding tank. Um, no! Screw you, guy-on-the-intercom! Stepping in to a room with a sentient murder statue with a penchant for high speed chiropracting seems like it would be a bad idea.

Still, with no other option, me and and my deco- er, I mean “friends” step in. “Step closer to SCP-173”, says the intercom. “NO,” I want to scream back. “THAT IS LITERALLY THE WORST IDEA. STICK IT UP YOUR ASS, WHITE BOY”.

As we wait for something predictably horrible to happen, the intercom chimes in again. “Erm. D-Class personnel, we’re having trouble closing the door. Just proceed with the test as usual-”

“Nope!” I sprint out the door as fast as I possibly can while still keeping an eye on 173. “I mean, we still have two other guys to keep an eye on it, so I’m sure nothing can go wro-”

And then the lights went out.

“Oh nooo!” I cried. “Ironic juxtaposition to what I just saaaaaid!”

I’m going to find whoever was in charge of replacing lightbulbs in this place and shove 173 where the sun don’t shine.

When the lights come back, my two compatriots now have significantly less necks, and the only guard in the room is shooting randomly around. Not one to look a gift horse in the gaping neck wound, I high-tail it out the nearest door, tossing my letter of resignation at 173 as I go.

I make it about a two hallways down, closing all the doors as I go, before I reach a corridor that’s shaped like one of those “t” squares in Tetris. No matter, I open the door, head on through and SWEET BUTTERY JESUS IT’S 173 HOW THE FUCK DID HE GET HERE-

*snap*

GAME OVER.

Okay, that hurt. Um. Lets try that again?

Alright, I start in the cell, walk to the containment room, door gets glitched, lights go off, people get killed, I start running, I make it to the “t” room- OH GOD NOW HE’S ACTUALLY STANDING ON THE OPEN DOOR BUTTON THAT’S CHEATING-

*snap*

GAME OVER.

I’m sensing a pattern here.

Necks: They’re kind of a big deal.

So I reload, walk to the containment room, door gets glitched, lights go off, people get killed, I start running, but this time, I notice a new door. I go through it, and see an agent standing around with a scientist.

“Hey, D-Class, get over here!” calls the agent.

“Oh man, guys, I am so happy to see you. I’ve died so many times, it’s not even funny.” I walk in to the room and I turn back to the doorway. “So, what’s the plan? Do we have a protocol for when something like this happens?”

I hear two very distinct “snaps” behind me.

“That was a very worrisome noise, guys.”

I whirl around and HOW DID HE GET IN HERE ALREADY THAT IS JUST NOT FAIR-

*snap*

GAME OVER.

I feel like I’m trapped in a particularly neck-snappy version of Groundhog Day.

Actually, I would totally watch Groundhog Day: Neck Snapping Edition.

I reload, and this time, I try to stay in the containment room-

*snap*

– and after that, I try to hide in the “t” room-

*snap*

– and then I try to sprint in to the room after the “t” room, and I make it halfway across before-

*snap*

– LOOK WOULD YOU STOP IT WITH THE NECK SNAPPING ALREADY?!

Finally, as I reload for the nth time, I notice a “skip opening” button, which I hammer as hard as I can. So, this time around, I start in a large misty room. I wander a tad, before noticing a door which leads to a hallway, which I follow. At the end, I find a new door.

“Ooh, what’s in here-” is all I manage to say before it slams behind me, locking me in a broom cupboard full of noxious gas. “Why does this room even exist- ooooh, my head hurts…”

And then I die, but fortunately, I didn’t get my neck snapped, so I’m calling this a plus.

Like this, but in a cupboard.

I reload once again, and again skip the opening, and I notice a new door. Okay, be careful, I think to myself. The last time I found a door like that, I ended up as the bread and butter in a neck snap sandwich.

I open the door, which leads to a perplexingly large room, with two guys standing in the middle: a scientist and an agent.

“Hey, wait, haven’t I seen you guys somewhere before-”

Lights flicker.

“Oh, now I remember!”

When they come back, the two men are thoroughly de-necked, and 173 is standing two inches away from me. But hey, I still have a neck. Upswing!

I dodge around him, and make it all the way to the other side of the room before the blink metre hits zero and lets 173 jump over to me. And thus begins a ballet of terror, as I dance around the room, trying to find the way out, while 173 tries to kill me every time I blink.

Finally, I find a new door! Finally! But wait, where’s the button?

I look down to search for it.

“Hey, there it is! Now I can get out of here and-”

I look up.

OH GODDAMMIT NOT AGAIN-“

*snap*

GAME OVER.

Yeah, we’re done here.

50 snapped necks is my limit.

SCP: Containment Breach has the graphics of Slender, the “not blinking” of Doctor Who, the opening of Half-Life and the difficulty of Super Meat Boy. If any of that sounds appealing to you, buy this immediately! It’s not much, but it has some cool scares, and it’s nice to play something inspired by the SCP!

Oh, and it’s free.

Wait, did I just spend 2 hours of my time writing a review for something people can get for free?! 

I have way too much time on my hands. And not nearly enough necks.

Whispering And Mumbling: THE MOVIE

25 May

You’ve got to love a movie title that could either be for a horror movie about a haunted asylum, or a national wildlife preserve.

Greystone Park is actually right across Sesame Street.

Said movie title is Greystone Park, a found footage ghost movie that I picked to review today by going to Netflix, opening up their “horror” section and throwing a fucking dart!

So, lets get started!

The movie opens with your standard “this is totally a true story, fo shizzle”, which I think has only been used in about every found footage film forever. I swear, one of these days, I want a found footage movie to say “this is a pack of horrible, horrible lies and we were all totally wasted when we made this thing” at the start.

(Actually, I should totally open a post like that.)

We cut to a man in the middle of a dark and stormy night (oh jesus no), being intercut with a woman talking about spooky things in a thick accent. But before we can decipher what the hell she’s saying, they smash cut us in to exposition about Greystone Park!

Wow, you guys really want to get your exposition out of the way fast, don’t you?

“Um, a long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, lived 7 dwarves, and then Simon Tam broke his sister out of prison, and then they went down the bathysphere to Rapture!”

“And then Bruce Willis was dead the whole time!”

After laying down the fact that Greystone Park used to be an asylum (no, not the film company, that’d actually be halfway interesting), they piece together some old-timey stock footage to prove that asylums tended to be kind of unpleasant places.

Um… thanks, I guess, but I… kind of already knew that.

Some shots of people wandering through the desolate asylum are cut throughout the barrage of stock-footage, and we finally get our title… The Asylum Tapes.

Wait, what?! 

I thought this was called Greystone Park! You can’t just switch the title of your movie because you sobered up and realized “Greystone Park” is a stupid title for a horror movie!

Finally, it’s time for an actual plot. We see a collection of “oh-please-tell-me-they’re-not-our-protagonists”, sitting around a dinner table, sharing ghost stories and oh good god this camera work is terrible. And, I mean, terrible for found footage films, and frankly, I didn’t even think that was possible.

All it is is people sitting at a table, this shouldn’t be that hard to film. If you can’t film a bunch of bland characters sitting around, yammering about pointless things and/or foreshadowing, it’s time to hang up your camera and honourably disembowel yourself with a tripod.

The old man at the table tells a story about… something, (I have no idea what he’s talking about, he mumbles half of his fucking lines.) and they decide to… go to the library? For… some reason. (Okay, change that. EVERYBODY mumbles half of their fucking lies.)

Near as I can tell, some guy is trying to get laid so he wants to take his criminally unsexy librarian girlfriend to a haunted house, but that’ll have to wait! Because, right now, they need to pretentiously talk about the legend of Medusa while the camera spontaneously focuses on random things in the library while a haunting piano theme noodles away in the background.

This… this is a student film, isn’t it?

But on the bright side, it’s not a true student film until somebody breaks out the sepia.

The guy (whom I am dubbing Eyebrows) and the Library Girl, along with a third guy who has no distinguishing features are driving along, talking about the house, when they suddenly cut to the dinner party, (This movie’s timeline is a goddamned Gordian Knot) where they ask people to join them to the Park. (Seriously? The Park? Who named this freaking asylum?!)

Suddenly, we cut to a beautiful day-for-night shot, while the camera man remarks that “it’s like the beginning of every horror film ever”.

Look, just because you acknowledge the cliché doesn’t excuse you from using the cliché. That’s like Screen-Writing Rule #26, dude.

Eyebrows, Library Girl and… the other guy (I’m not just using these names to be insulting, I don’t think the movies has even bothered saying their names yet) stand around and reference horror movies. Urggh, it’s like an even less funny Scary Movie. 

Next, it cuts to the… other guy standing around his room, showing off his multitude of weapons to Eyebrows and Library Girl. Oh, so that’s what his name is! Captain Compensating!

Captain Compensating then spins a story about a man, named Lasher, born in the Park, who the doctors decided to screw with. Torture, lobotomies, erase from history, that kind of thing. Apparently the Park got closed down when it caught fire, and supposedly the guy is still there, wandering around the Park in a gas mask, and asking who his mummy is.

Wait… an insane man, lobotomised, covered in burns and chains, wandering an asylum with a gas mask?

The horror fan in me is pleased!

I have the weirdest boner right now.

While driving, they discover that Captain Compensating doesn’t actually have a drivers license, so they have to stop the car in the middle of the street, and let Library Girl drive.

Thank you for that pointless scene, movie!

Finally, they find the dark country road to the asylum and… okay, yeah, that’s spooky. There’s something about being in the pitch black country night that just sends shivers down my spine!

Or at least it would, if it was not abundantly clear that all the footage at “the asylum” was actually filmed outside the same fucking library from earlier in the movie

WHOOPS.

They park (at the Park) and turn off all the lights, because visuals aren’t important in movies, right?! They get out of the car, and sneak through a graveyard to get to the Park, and Library Girl and Eyebrows object because they are utter pansies. Oh come on, just because they’re dead doesn’t mean you can’t walk on them!

Library Girl hears a noise, and the three start sprinting away to the Park. And… wow, this is confusing. From the shots, it looks like they’re filming at a university… a university in the country… with it’s own graveyard… and an abandoned asylum…

Wow, are all universities like that? I suddenly have an appreciation for higher learning!

“And over here is our ‘Ghosts Eat Your Face’ wing, and over there is the cafeteria.”

Our “heroes”, if you can call them that, finally find a way to break in to the park. And, lo and behold, it’s full of flickering lights, “spooky” noises, and a hat rack that tries to take down Captain Compensating.

Thanks for trying, Mister Hat Rack. The effort is appreciated.

They wander around a bit, pointing out scary things (and by “scary things”, I mean toys and Bibles), and basically make asses of themselves. On their list of “things that are trying to be scary but aren’t”, there’s a big chalkboard that says “DEATH” on it. Wow, SUBTLE.

The Captain gets hit in the head with a cassette tape, because of course those things are the spawn of the devil, and we get to see our ghost: a man in a fedora, literally made out of camera glitches.

If disappointment was a fetish, we’d have to throw a censor bar over this entire damn screen.

If disappointment was a fetish, my life would be NC-17.

The team finds a little room that looks like somebody has been living there, which is unfortunately interrupted when the glitch-ghost attacks! Or… not. I… I have no idea what just happened.

And neither did the ghost, apparently, because he vents his displeasure by whipping a cast iron chain at their heads. Ooh, this movie really wants these people dead.

Library Girl gets a call, which happens to just be the glitch-ghost calling out white noise, because ghosts can do that now. I can’t understand what he’s screaming at her, but I’m going to assume it’s REALLY filthy.

“zhzhzhzhzhzhhzhzhzhzhzhzhhzhzhzhzhzhzhYouHaveNiceBoobszhzhzhzhzhzhzhzhzhzh.”

The next in their grand tour of pointlessness is a chair, sitting in the centre of a room.

Really? That’s… really the scariest thing you could think of?

You guys suck at this.

Chairs: No, they’re still not scary.

Apparently the director realized that, because right after that, they find a collection of doll heads hanging from the ceiling. Huh. This must be one profoundly bored ghost.

Well, he’s not the only one because I’M ALSO PROFOUNDLY BORED BY THIS FUCKING MOVIE.

They see a “white hair” and immediately start freaking out, because, as everybody knows, white hairs are clear signs of the paranormal. Actually, that would explain a lot about old people.

The “protagonists” (god, that word sounds unclean in this movie) start searching for the ghost, when they…

Hey, wait a second. What’s that music?

Is it…Oh god! It is!

That’s the “Time Of Angels” theme from Doctor Who! 

What, do you think we wouldn’t notice that you totally just stole that weird “pipe” music thing? For shame, The Asylum Ta- Er, I Mean, Greystone Park, for fucking shame.

Anyway, the search goes on. Eventually, everything goes all glitchy again, and Captain Compensating disappears. But before we can get out the champagne and and confetti, he reappears in the corner of the room, because apparently he was having a haunted time out.

The Captain starts ranting about a woman, Krazy Kate, which was mentioned by the mumbling old man from the beginning. Oh. Joy. I just love inaudible foreshadowing! Don’t you?!

They decide to head to the kitchen, because apparently that’s what Krazy Kate said to do. Wait, so we’re taking advice from the ghost/serial killer now?! Don’t do that, it’ll tell you to cross the streams!

The group stop to start talking about what to do next, but they’re simultaneously mumbling and whispering so they could be freaking beatboxing the entire film and it wouldn’t make a fucking difference.

“Krazy Kate is in the hizzzous!”

They put the tape from earlier in to a random tape player, which makes Library Girl start giggling uncontrollably. Oh great, now even the actors can’t take this damn thing seriously!

They wander in to some kind of observation room and find the aforementioned gas mask. As they do, Library Girl and Eyebrows gets a text: “Jesus Wept”.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Cue more wandering, more mumbling, more whispering, and more “forgetting how cameras work”. You know, this could actually be a pretty good movie if they just subtracted everything breathing from it.

The glitch-ghost does some more glitches and bangs on some pots, so we cut to everyone hiding in the boiler room, blaming each other. And while they’re doing it, they conveniently ignore the ghost standing in the corner. I’d be feeling pretty damn insulted if I was that ghost!

“Um, guys? Could… could you stop it with the character development? I’m… I’m kind of here to kill you. Guys? Could I just… just get a little attention here?”

“How roooood!”

Eventually they decide to try and escape, because even they’re bored of all this. Oh, and then Captain Compensating starts philosophising about the nature of evil, in what is perhaps the most out of place monologue in a movie since… ever, actually.

Then Library Girl decides to break up the monotony by getting bitch slapped across the room by a shadow.

Hah hah hah… pansy.

They find two coffins at the end of a tunnel, with “Jesus Wept” sprayed on the wall beside them. You know, if Jesus had such a weeping problem, he probably should have tried some saline.

Just sayin’.

Library Girl disappears, only to be found in five minutes, cradling another goddamned creepy doll. What, did you people get PAID is creepy dolls and this was all you could think to do with them?!

“Try not to spend it all in one place.”

They get locked in… something as they flee a ghost (Look, this movie has some kind of thing against transitions) and they meet up with two characters who I don’t think have shown up before this point, who reveal that they were responsible for all of this! Damn, I just got straight Scooby Doo’d!

Oh, and then the actual ghosts show up. So… what was the point of that scene?

(If you guessed “to waste our time”, then you’d be correct! Your prize is to keep watching this goddamned travesty.)

The two random people end up locked behind a different door, and decide not to call the police to help get the door open because what they’re doing is, like, six different kinds of illegal. So the two random characters and sentenced to immediate and painful ‘backspacing’ out of this movies plot. 

Cue more random shots of… things, as Eyebrows, Library Girl, and the Captain get terrorized by the ghosts. I have no idea what’s going on, who’s doing what, why it’s happening, and why there’s more stock footage. It’s basically the horror equivalent of a swirling in a toilet made of pretension.

Some kind of voice-over starts chiming over the footage, because apparently the director forgot that THIS WAS FOUND FOOTAGE AND YOU CAN’T FUCKING DO THAT.

“FOUND FOOTAGE DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY.”

Finally, the cinematic acid trip comes to an end, and then more confusing cuts and camera movements happen, eventually resulting in Eyebrows wandering the Park, looking for Library Girl. He finally finds the way out, but decides to head back in, because THIS MOVIE HATES YOU.

Some flashy editing comes in, and the Lasher FINALLY makes his debut, and… he actually looks pretty cool! I really wish this movie was about him, but he’ll have to accept him beating Eyebrows in to a bloody pulp as a consolation prize.

Cue more flashy editing, and the Captain, while bloodied and bruised, wanders over to the camera, and starts mumbling and whispering.

YEAH! Finally, back to what this movie does right: WHISPERING AND MUMBLING!

I missed it, to be honest.

Anyway, Eyebrows wanders in, actin’ all possessed, and demands to know why the Captain is covered in blood. Apparently he “killed a ghost with a pipe” and… yeah, that’s stupid. I’m going to assume you know why that’s stupid, and move on.

The duo start trying to escape once again, and end up in… a church?

There’s a fully functioning church- hell, it’s huge… and IT’S INSIDE AN ABANDONED ASYLUM THAT SOMEBODY LIT ON FIRE?! AND NOBODY FUCKING NOTICED IT?!

Excuse that noise, it’s just me hitting my head on the desk.

Which is freaking amazing, as I don’t have a desk.

At the church, they find Library Girl doing a twitchy-dance for some guys in fancy ceremonial robes and goat masks- oh, I’m sorry, I mean “goat heads”. Our two heroes bicker back and forth about who should rescue her, although curiously the “shoot her in the face, dice her in to cubes and bury her in the crossroads” option is never considered.

Library Girl finally goes full on Witch once the two disrupt her, and tear them in to little bitty pieces, which is what I wanted to do when this damn movie started, so it’s a very happy ending for all involved.

We get one more shot of a fedora wearing ghost walking away, and then the end credits, which are composed of shots of a lake while somebody yodels in the background.

And that’s Greystone Park: A Tale Of Two Titles! And… WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!

It feels like somebody figured out how jump scares work, than decided to come up with some kind of “story”, which was nothing more than a series of jump scares strung together with sloppy edits.

The characters are nothing, the scares are nothing, the story is nothing, the dialogue is nothing, it’s all just nothing, nothing, nothing that thinks it’s more intelligent than it actually is.

I reallyREALLY want to hate this film, but all I can muster is an apathetic “mehh”, a comical shrug, and a dejected middle finger.