I've waited so long for Episode 3, my subconscious made its own production

DoctorWeeTodd · 03-10-2010, 09:57 AM

NOTE: This is not fan fiction but the documentation of a dream.

TL;DR version:

Spoiler:
I had a dream while on a bus stuck in traffic. I was inside Episode 3 where the helicopter Alyx and several rebels where in were being chased by Advisors inside an artic canyon. Despite Alyx's masterful flying and my masterful machine gunning the Advisors managed to wreck our craft and send us countless feet below. Injured and weaponless I managed to scramble out of the craft before an Advisor rears his ugly head. In a scene reminiscent of Modern Warfare's ending Alyx tosses me the Gravity Gun where I managed to pull the only object I can grab - the crowbar. With an awe inspiring combination of the two most iconic weapons of the series I used to gravity gun to shoot the crowbar into the fiend's face.

Outside the key scraped and inked smeared windows, a Chevron gas station sign projects a sickly ruby and cobalt glow. The cold pavement still shows shimmering wounds and slick dark bruises received from the pounding rain. He had relented his attack hours earlier. Today is the last Friday of the month. Deterred by neither cold nor rain, Critical Mass cyclists in the thousands caused an infarction in the city of Saint Francis of Assisi. On a normal day…on a normal rush hour, it would only take ten minutes for the 49 Van Ness to reach my destination of Market Street from California Street. It has been twenty minutes and we have only moved a block and a half. A man donning dreadlocks, a grey fur cap and strolling a girl’s Barbie bicycle popped in through the back door. The cap gave him the likeness of a baboon and as the other commuters press him up against me, I notice he has the scent of a dog. I close my eyes, and start drifting; I teleport to a distant setting.

Alyx Vance jerks the controls of the Mil Mi-8 helicopter, violently pulling me out of my slumber. I rub then open my eyes to the greeting of pure whiteness, stretching endlessly from top to bottom and left to right. I turn, her brow is heavy with shining sweat, despite subzero temperatures. Her eyes flicker and dart from left to right repeatedly as if in the midst of a seizure. It is the look of fright.

“Gordon!” She screams at me. “They’re coming! Quick, get to the back!”

Without time to think, I unbuckle myself from the passenger seat, and scramble out the cockpit where our friends both human and vortigaunt alike sit side by side. There is a look of confusion from those awake. A side-door slips open and details appear on the previously white blur which had by now taken on a blue tint: jagged edges sometimes cubic, and at other places serrated. We are flying between a canyon, the sheer edges of the crevasse nearly brushing against the rotors. I latch onto the GAU-17 minigun mounted before the doorway, using the handles to brace my weight against the shifting aircraft. Then up on the horizon I see them. Growing larger and larger in the distance were the shadows of something…large. The right edge of the canyon obscures the objects casting these shadows. The shapes themselves then follow: grey, ovally, grub-like – Combine Advisors.

On reflex, I set my sights on them and pull both triggers with all my might. A stream of orange pours out the spinning barrels of the GAU-17 and melts away the blue landscape - Molten metal on ice. The Advisors dodge my barrage, with surprising nimbleness for their build and size. The orange tracers begin to make yellow goo spray out of a grey shape. An eardrum maiming howl echoes through the canyon, like airbrakes being stepped on eternally. The chainsaw-esque grind from the gun, pops from inside barrels, thudding from rotors above, moaning from the wind, chattering from passengers, thumping from my heart, and now the screaming from the Advisor made it impossible to listen to any individual sound. Despite bullets flying at a speed of 4,000 rounds per minute not one is deterred let alone dead. Or are they? In a second they vanish from sight.

Alyx cautiously asks, “Is everyone okay back there?”

I turn my head around. The sweaty frowns on my comrades, both earthborne and alien, morph into smiles. There is a moment of calm. For a just some scant seconds there is nothing but the whooping of the helicopter rotors and the whirring from winding down machine gun barrels.

“I’m going to pull up,” Alyx exclaims.

Before she could do that however, they came. On the cliff’s face lines begin to sliver in all directions like spider webs. Slabs of ice some as large as the aircraft fall and miss the rotor blades by a few strokes. Widow-makers – that’s what they called them on hiking trips. From the ceiling of the craft I can hear smaller fragments churn into powder. I swing the minigun in all directions, but no target appeared. There is a yank, then a faint green squiggly line.

Muffled cries hum from the cockpit. Before I know it, the Gatling Gun is out of my hands and the aircraft, with bolts still sticking to its bottom. The fuselage jolted and jolted; Again and again. I turn my head to see the eyes of my fellow rebels staring up. A crinkle is beginning to form on the ceiling. Then it happened, a pitching roar and all vision turned into a blue blur. My friends were screaming all sorts of things too panicky to make out. I pull out the first weapon I could reach: a submachine gun, only to have it too fly out past my back. Again came the pitching roar and distorted vision. When reality returned, everyone set their eyes on me. Or maybe not on me. I turn around and close enough to smell it, there was a Combine Advisor.

I only see that thing for a second before the floor shoots out beneath me and I meet the ceiling. How fast we are going, I cannot tell. It seems as if we are moving at terminal velocity. Then we stopped, and I could still see. I was not dead. It was just a ruse unfortunately. The craft began to shake again under the Advisors grasp. We are slammed against one wall to be thrown onto the other. In the chaos I make out the faint shape of a man freefall out the doorway. My vision and hearing are distorted once more. Once again we plummet. The H.E.V beeped and beeped, sirens flared from the cockpit. Loud chops are heard as rotors meet solidified water and sedimentary rock. Twisting and denting metal scream and bang. The fuselage crumples as if squeezed by a giant. We roll over and over until we come to a bouncing stop. This time for good, we have reached the ground floor. With the just the frame of my glasses partly askew, and snow sticking out the edges of my goatee, I had survived.

Outside the doorway I could see Alyx sprawled on the icy ground. Is she okay? Oh God, please let her be okay. I scramble towards her, out of the smoking fuselage. I am barely able to perform the simple tugging of my ligaments. My heart is ready to explode. I weakly turn my head around, and realize that the helicopter now has the likeness of a discarded soda can - kicked aside, crushed and left to wear. The rotors were twisted into the shapes of licorice sticks. Did I really survive that? An ominous roar comes from up top, followed by an unfortunately now too familiar deafness and blindness. A single Combine Advisor is descending upon the wreckage.

I reach for my holster but there is no gun. He’s almost face to face with me. In panic, I look around for anything that I can use to defend us, Alyx puts her head up. Thank God. She tosses something towards me: an orange tube radiating bottled sunlight. It is the gravity gun. Thank God again. My body uses every gram of strength to move those two feet to grab a hold of it and I succeed in my goal. I hold down the secondary fire and scan haphazardly for anything that could be picked up. The now spiraled rotors are too heavy, the door is too heavy. The maggot-like beast already has its proboscis pushing outward in an obscene display. The gravity gun whirs - I’ve picked up something. The object is red and thin, it is my faithful crowbar.

With the crowbar pointed towards my adversary, I pull the switch. The projectile flies at sternum shattering speeds and slams into the creature’s face, embedding itself two feet in. With the crowbar still jutting out my enemy’s face, it whines and howls at every cadence. It spins and flips in every direction. After seemingly an eternity, it flys away, clumsily hitting every edge of the canyon. The slug was the symbol of the demise of my people, an ender of civilizations; the manifestation of all which I hated. It had traveled across stars and dimensions to kill Kings and crush armies. Now it is in retreat because of a simple prying tool.

I manage to get on my feet and trounce over to Alyx. I set my hand over her heart, her breathing and heart rate are shockingly normal. She grabs a hold of my hand. After spending a minute to take in all that has transpired we’re both on our feet.

Something pats my arm annoyingly and teleports me away from this plane. My eyes open ten minutes into the future. A heavyset Municipal Transit Officer asks for me to show proof of fare. After some fumbling I manage to yank my wallet out and present to him my fast pass. I peer over the outside the window with water droplets scattered on the other side like polka-dots. The bus has only moved a block.

JCD · 03-11-2010, 03:53 AM

Your writing skills are amazing, DoctorWeeTodd. As I've been writing for years myself, trying to improve it myself, I think you have a great talent for this. You could think up the whole EP3 storyline this way, too.

BladeRunner162 · 03-11-2010, 04:24 AM

That is a very interesting read! Well done 07

+1rep

Otto-Grainer · 03-12-2010, 02:01 AM

You. Are. Awesome! Thank you so much for that inspiring and influential story. I think the strike of Epicness by the Gravity Gun and Crowbar is a very iconic and well presented idea. I wouldn't complain if Valve did a last resort attack like that, only because I just love crowbars so much. I envy your eager and imaginative mind of dreaming, especially when you admirably do it in the middle of a busy bus. Cheers. You cheered up my day.

ultradude25 · 03-12-2010, 02:23 AM

5 stars and +rep. Was a great read, only problem is it isn't long enough.

Flamov · 03-12-2010, 02:33 AM

Great read. +rep

DirectVic · 03-12-2010, 04:56 AM

But that means he lost his crowbar. I don't like this idea.

Just kidding. Very well written. Rep for you.

DoctorWeeTodd · 03-12-2010, 09:42 AM

Aw shucks. Thanks guys, but I can't take all the credit. I'm never this creative while awake.

JgcxCub · 03-12-2010, 09:56 AM

Exceedingly good story. Many thanks!
+rep

surfrock22 · 03-12-2010, 11:36 AM

Marc?

Jinoruizraged · 03-12-2010, 03:18 PM

This made a great day even better.

Rep for you sir!

Whatthecell · 03-12-2010, 11:58 PM

That war GREAT! You have very good writing skills!

Otto-Grainer · 03-15-2010, 05:45 AM

Quote:

Marc?

I knew it! May I have your autograph!?

mimaz98 · 03-29-2010, 06:05 AM

Truly, absolutely riveting. I quite loved your descriptive narrative. Especially, your presentation of such a simple mode of attack against the Advisors - the combination of the series' two iconic weapons - was awesome. I have been largely against such conventional methods, but you pulled it off here extremely well, and I think I would love doing exactly that.

DoctorWeeTodd · 06-10-2010, 08:18 PM

I've been thinking to emailing this to Gabe Newell or Marc Laidlaw. Do you think they'll care or TL;DR?

03-10-2010, 09:57 AM	#1
DoctorWeeTodd Join Date: Sep 2005 Reputation: 127 Posts: 590	I've waited so long for Episode 3, my subconscious made its own production NOTE: This is not fan fiction but the documentation of a dream. TL;DR version: Spoiler: I had a dream while on a bus stuck in traffic. I was inside Episode 3 where the helicopter Alyx and several rebels where in were being chased by Advisors inside an artic canyon. Despite Alyx's masterful flying and my masterful machine gunning the Advisors managed to wreck our craft and send us countless feet below. Injured and weaponless I managed to scramble out of the craft before an Advisor rears his ugly head. In a scene reminiscent of *Modern Warfare's* ending Alyx tosses me the Gravity Gun where I managed to pull the only object I can grab - the crowbar. With an awe inspiring combination of the two most iconic weapons of the series I used to gravity gun to shoot the crowbar into the fiend's face. Outside the key scraped and inked smeared windows, a Chevron gas station sign projects a sickly ruby and cobalt glow. The cold pavement still shows shimmering wounds and slick dark bruises received from the pounding rain. He had relented his attack hours earlier. Today is the last Friday of the month. Deterred by neither cold nor rain, Critical Mass cyclists in the thousands caused an infarction in the city of Saint Francis of Assisi. On a normal day…on a normal rush hour, it would only take ten minutes for the 49 Van Ness to reach my destination of Market Street from California Street. It has been twenty minutes and we have only moved a block and a half. A man donning dreadlocks, a grey fur cap and strolling a girl’s Barbie bicycle popped in through the back door. The cap gave him the likeness of a baboon and as the other commuters press him up against me, I notice he has the scent of a dog. I close my eyes, and start drifting; I teleport to a distant setting. Alyx Vance jerks the controls of the Mil Mi-8 helicopter, violently pulling me out of my slumber. I rub then open my eyes to the greeting of pure whiteness, stretching endlessly from top to bottom and left to right. I turn, her brow is heavy with shining sweat, despite subzero temperatures. Her eyes flicker and dart from left to right repeatedly as if in the midst of a seizure. It is the look of fright. “Gordon!” She screams at me. “They’re coming! Quick, get to the back!” Without time to think, I unbuckle myself from the passenger seat, and scramble out the cockpit where our friends both human and vortigaunt alike sit side by side. There is a look of confusion from those awake. A side-door slips open and details appear on the previously white blur which had by now taken on a blue tint: jagged edges sometimes cubic, and at other places serrated. We are flying between a canyon, the sheer edges of the crevasse nearly brushing against the rotors. I latch onto the GAU-17 minigun mounted before the doorway, using the handles to brace my weight against the shifting aircraft. Then up on the horizon I see them. Growing larger and larger in the distance were the shadows of something…large. The right edge of the canyon obscures the objects casting these shadows. The shapes themselves then follow: grey, ovally, grub-like – Combine Advisors. On reflex, I set my sights on them and pull both triggers with all my might. A stream of orange pours out the spinning barrels of the GAU-17 and melts away the blue landscape - Molten metal on ice. The Advisors dodge my barrage, with surprising nimbleness for their build and size. The orange tracers begin to make yellow goo spray out of a grey shape. An eardrum maiming howl echoes through the canyon, like airbrakes being stepped on eternally. The chainsaw-esque grind from the gun, pops from inside barrels, thudding from rotors above, moaning from the wind, chattering from passengers, thumping from my heart, and now the screaming from the Advisor made it impossible to listen to any individual sound. Despite bullets flying at a speed of 4,000 rounds per minute not one is deterred let alone dead. Or are they? In a second they vanish from sight. Alyx cautiously asks, “Is everyone okay back there?” I turn my head around. The sweaty frowns on my comrades, both earthborne and alien, morph into smiles. There is a moment of calm. For a just some scant seconds there is nothing but the whooping of the helicopter rotors and the whirring from winding down machine gun barrels. “I’m going to pull up,” Alyx exclaims. Before she could do that however, they came. On the cliff’s face lines begin to sliver in all directions like spider webs. Slabs of ice some as large as the aircraft fall and miss the rotor blades by a few strokes. Widow-makers – that’s what they called them on hiking trips. From the ceiling of the craft I can hear smaller fragments churn into powder. I swing the minigun in all directions, but no target appeared. There is a yank, then a faint green squiggly line. Muffled cries hum from the cockpit. Before I know it, the Gatling Gun is out of my hands and the aircraft, with bolts still sticking to its bottom. The fuselage jolted and jolted; Again and again. I turn my head to see the eyes of my fellow rebels staring up. A crinkle is beginning to form on the ceiling. Then it happened, a pitching roar and all vision turned into a blue blur. My friends were screaming all sorts of things too panicky to make out. I pull out the first weapon I could reach: a submachine gun, only to have it too fly out past my back. Again came the pitching roar and distorted vision. When reality returned, everyone set their eyes on me. Or maybe not on me. I turn around and close enough to smell it, there was a Combine Advisor. I only see that thing for a second before the floor shoots out beneath me and I meet the ceiling. How fast we are going, I cannot tell. It seems as if we are moving at terminal velocity. Then we stopped, and I could still see. I was not dead. It was just a ruse unfortunately. The craft began to shake again under the Advisors grasp. We are slammed against one wall to be thrown onto the other. In the chaos I make out the faint shape of a man freefall out the doorway. My vision and hearing are distorted once more. Once again we plummet. The H.E.V beeped and beeped, sirens flared from the cockpit. Loud chops are heard as rotors meet solidified water and sedimentary rock. Twisting and denting metal scream and bang. The fuselage crumples as if squeezed by a giant. We roll over and over until we come to a bouncing stop. This time for good, we have reached the ground floor. With the just the frame of my glasses partly askew, and snow sticking out the edges of my goatee, I had survived. Outside the doorway I could see Alyx sprawled on the icy ground. Is she okay? Oh God, please let her be okay. I scramble towards her, out of the smoking fuselage. I am barely able to perform the simple tugging of my ligaments. My heart is ready to explode. I weakly turn my head around, and realize that the helicopter now has the likeness of a discarded soda can - kicked aside, crushed and left to wear. The rotors were twisted into the shapes of licorice sticks. Did I really survive that? An ominous roar comes from up top, followed by an unfortunately now too familiar deafness and blindness. A single Combine Advisor is descending upon the wreckage. I reach for my holster but there is no gun. He’s almost face to face with me. In panic, I look around for anything that I can use to defend us, Alyx puts her head up. Thank God. She tosses something towards me: an orange tube radiating bottled sunlight. It is the gravity gun. Thank God again. My body uses every gram of strength to move those two feet to grab a hold of it and I succeed in my goal. I hold down the secondary fire and scan haphazardly for anything that could be picked up. The now spiraled rotors are too heavy, the door is too heavy. The maggot-like beast already has its proboscis pushing outward in an obscene display. The gravity gun whirs - I’ve picked up something. The object is red and thin, it is my faithful crowbar. With the crowbar pointed towards my adversary, I pull the switch. The projectile flies at sternum shattering speeds and slams into the creature’s face, embedding itself two feet in. With the crowbar still jutting out my enemy’s face, it whines and howls at every cadence. It spins and flips in every direction. After seemingly an eternity, it flys away, clumsily hitting every edge of the canyon. The slug was the symbol of the demise of my people, an ender of civilizations; the manifestation of all which I hated. It had traveled across stars and dimensions to kill Kings and crush armies. Now it is in retreat because of a simple prying tool. I manage to get on my feet and trounce over to Alyx. I set my hand over her heart, her breathing and heart rate are shockingly normal. She grabs a hold of my hand. After spending a minute to take in all that has transpired we’re both on our feet. Something pats my arm annoyingly and teleports me away from this plane. My eyes open ten minutes into the future. A heavyset Municipal Transit Officer asks for me to show proof of fare. After some fumbling I manage to yank my wallet out and present to him my fast pass. I peer over the outside the window with water droplets scattered on the other side like polka-dots. The bus has only moved a block. Last edited by DoctorWeeTodd: 03-12-2010 at 09:50 AM.

03-29-2010, 06:05 AM	#14
mimaz98 Banned Join Date: Oct 2006 Reputation: 4556 Posts: 26,159	Truly, absolutely riveting. I quite loved your descriptive narrative. Especially, your presentation of such a simple mode of attack against the Advisors - the combination of the series' two iconic weapons - was awesome. I have been largely against such conventional methods, but you pulled it off here extremely well, and I think I would love doing exactly that. Last edited by mimaz98: 03-29-2010 at 05:40 PM.

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03-11-2010, 03:53 AM	#2
JCD Join Date: Jan 2010 Reputation: 23 Posts: 152	Your writing skills are amazing, DoctorWeeTodd. As I've been writing for years myself, trying to improve it myself, I think you have a great talent for this. You could think up the whole EP3 storyline this way, too.

03-11-2010, 04:24 AM	#3
BladeRunner162 Join Date: Oct 2009 Reputation: 11 Posts: 214	That is a very interesting read! Well done 07 +1rep

03-12-2010, 02:01 AM	#4
Otto-Grainer Join Date: Sep 2006 Reputation: 292 Posts: 5,831	You. Are. Awesome! Thank you so much for that inspiring and influential story. I think the strike of Epicness by the Gravity Gun and Crowbar is a very iconic and well presented idea. I wouldn't complain if Valve did a last resort attack like that, only because I just love crowbars so much. I envy your eager and imaginative mind of dreaming, especially when you admirably do it in the middle of a busy bus. Cheers. You cheered up my day.

03-12-2010, 02:23 AM	#5
ultradude25 Join Date: Feb 2008 Reputation: 321 Posts: 2,973	5 stars and +rep. Was a great read, only problem is it isn't long enough.

03-12-2010, 02:33 AM	#6
Flamov Join Date: Nov 2006 Reputation: 5283 Posts: 4,208	Great read. +rep

03-12-2010, 04:56 AM	#7
DirectVic Join Date: Oct 2009 Reputation: 2108 Posts: 4,905	But that means he lost his crowbar. I don't like this idea. Just kidding. Very well written. Rep for you.

03-12-2010, 09:42 AM	#8
DoctorWeeTodd Join Date: Sep 2005 Reputation: 127 Posts: 590	Aw shucks. Thanks guys, but I can't take all the credit. I'm never this creative while awake.

03-12-2010, 09:56 AM	#9
JgcxCub Join Date: Dec 2009 Reputation: 204 Posts: 482	Exceedingly good story. Many thanks! +rep

03-12-2010, 11:36 AM	#10
surfrock22 Join Date: Mar 2008 Reputation: 5140 Posts: 13,200	Marc?

03-12-2010, 03:18 PM	#11
Jinoruizraged Join Date: Dec 2009 Reputation: 3886 Posts: 3,961	This made a great day even better. Rep for you sir!

03-12-2010, 11:58 PM	#12
Whatthecell Banned Join Date: Mar 2010 Reputation: 51 Posts: 133	That war GREAT! You have very good writing skills!

06-10-2010, 08:18 PM	#15
DoctorWeeTodd Join Date: Sep 2005 Reputation: 127 Posts: 590	I've been thinking to emailing this to Gabe Newell or Marc Laidlaw. Do you think they'll care or TL;DR?