Dead Space


I deliver!

Some of you may remember the blog post I made asking who was up for some (written) sketches.

This was in January, I think.

But, I'm here now, it's sunny (in England, at least) and I think I just got through my semi-annual panic attack.

So, who's up for some sketches? Keep in mind, though, I haven't even thought about these before they were typed up, so some of them will almost inevitably be rather poor.


  • Set in an abandoned cargo hold*
  • Three people enter, one with a Pulse Rifle, one in an Engineer's RIG, and a woman*

Pulse Rifle Man: There should be a security detail in here.

Engineer: Well, there isn't. What now?

Woman: Let's just stay here whilst I go off on my own and definately not perform clandestine operations.

Engineer: Nah, we need to get to the bottom of this.

Pulse Rifle Man: I agree, Bob.

Woman: No, no, I'll find out what happened on my own. I'm sure thy're just in another room, I'll go off and find them.

Bob: No, no, we should stick together, Jill. Who knows why this ship's communications failed in an uncharted and bordered off star system?

Pulse Rifle Man: I sure do hope it wasn't anything illegal!

Bob: We would have been told if it was illegal.

Pulse Rifle Man: Well it is surrounded by a huge regiment of Earth Defense Force Marines, all armed with nuclear missiles that they fire at anything nearby.

Bob: Good point. Ah well, I'm sure it's fine.

  • The woman whispers into a hidden device on her wrist as the two talk*

Woman: They're catching on.

Bob: What do you mean the moon landing was faked!? We stopped there this morning for coffee!

(For my keyboard, Pulse Rifle Man will now be reffered to as PRM)

PRM: You're a gullible sheep! Anyway, we need to find the security detail.

Woman: You know what? Fuck it.

  • She produces a Divet from her jacket and shoots both men in the head*
  • She pulls a phone from her jacket*

Woman: And how soon can you get here? Five seconds? Oh, yeah, you just got the new lightspeed... Okay, thanks! Bye!

  • The USM Valor shocks in, and hundreds of marines pour into the cargo hold*

Marine: I don't know why you didn't just do this in the first place.

Woman: Plot convenience.

Marine: Aaahhhh.

Well, how was that? None of that was scripted, by the way, all impromptu, so sorry if it sucked, which I have a bad feeling it did.

Okay then, second one.

  • Isaac Clarke sits on a psychologist's couch as the doctor takes notes*

Isaac: I just don't know why they keep following me! Is it my hair? Do women like grey hair these days? I'm, like, fifty-five!

Doctor: Perhaps they find you character interesting.

Isaac: That has to be it! I went to a bar the other night, and I saw Chris Redfield, Master Chief, Sam Fisher, and Soap, all trying and failing miserably to get a date! I thought chicks liked action heroes! But noooo, they all want a peice of the guy who only makes 15,000 credits a year! Hell, I don't even have a job or a house anymore! I'm a hobo, and still chicks are hunting me down!

Doctor: Pehaps they are worried of the risks associated with being an action hero.

Isaac: That can't be it! I saw Gabe Weller hooking up with some Irish chick a while back, and he's just asking to be dismembered!

Doctor: I think one of his legs was cut off recently, yes.

Isaac: And I'm much more likely to be killed than those guys! I bet the Master Chief doesn't have risk of dying like I did with the Tripod!

Doctor: Well, he is superhuman.

Isaac: You know how many girls I met on the Sprawl that all but outright called me hot? Two. Soap can't even get one with a Scottish accent and British Commando training! There isn't even a Scotland anymore because we had to melt it down to fuel our cars! You'd think that would be exotic enough for them, but no! They all go for an extremely common accent!

Doctor: Well, your voice is quite nice.

Isaac: Erm... thanks. Anyway, Chris Redfield even spent half his time in Africa flat-out hugging a chick and saving another from a miserable life of servitude, and he's still alone! Not one has given him even a wink!

Doctor: And you are still telling them you are happily married?

Isaac: Well, apparently being married to a reanimated cadaver isn't good enough for them! They keep screaming "Forget you old bag of bones, Isaac, and come with me! Make us whole, Isaac!" I just can't take it anymore!

Doctor: Well, there is... one thing we can prescribe for you.

Isaac: Please, doc. You've gotta help me!

Doctor: This is often reserved for people in your predicament. We are only allowed to use it every ten years.

Isaac: Surely, you don't mean...

Doctor: Yes.

  • Isaac gulps*

Doctor: We will remove all horror aspects by putting co-op in Dead Space 3.

  • Isaac breaths deep*

Isaac: Okay.

Isaac: I'm ready.

That's it for now. I doubt these were very good, but please, contructive critisism. I will, however, allow entire comments composed entirely of swearing at me so long as it's not ALL CAPS.

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