It's been a while since we had a good discussion about Tim Schafer and Psychonauts.
I still remember it like it was yesterday, when it was in fact about three years ago. I had a dream. In the dream, I was being hired for Monkey Island 6, and it had all the original team making it. I walked in to the office. Three people came up and introduced themselves.
"Hi, we're the original three. You might remember our names." They said, all at the same time in a really disturbing manner.
"Oh... yeah." I said, vaguely. "Tim Schafer, Dave Gilbert and Ron Jeremy, right?"
"Correct!" They said, because in my dream I evidently thought I was correct.
I tried to focus in on their faces, which were blurred in a dream like manner, possibly because I was dreaming. All I could tell was that they were incredibly handsome men, but I couldn't make out anything else. Then, I said, "I thought you were dead."
"That is why you are here." Said the Tim Man, ominously.
"Or are you?" Said Tim, waggling his fingers mysteriously as he spoke.
"I'm pretty sure I am." I replied.
Tim paused. "That may be so," he admitted, after a moment, and put his hands in his pockets. "But still. It's not just an ordinary
"Yeah. You see, we really are
Tim Schafer, Ron Jeremy and Dave Gilbert, calling to you from our nest in sunny California."
"Like, with voodoo?" I said, waving my hands expressively.
"Yes, like, with voodoo." Dave said, because he didn't want Tim to do all the talking.
"Yes." Said Tim, hitting Dave in the eye with an ice cream scoop. "Anyway, we're calling you for a very special reason. It is your destiny
to come to San Francisco and become a Game Designer. OOOoooOOOooOOooo!"
"I don't know. I was pretty set on becoming a doctor..."
"Oh, hush!" Ron said unexpectedly, as he emerged from the shadows in the corner. He flipped his wrist limply as he spoke, "What would you rather be, eh? A doctor, or a Game Designer? Would you rather juggle limbs and organs for the rest of your life, or order people about?"
"Doctors get to order people abo--"
"But do they get free coffee
The three men looked a little downcast, so I added quickly, "But I hear Game Designers get a lot of fan mail, which doctors don't."
"Yes!" Said Dave, brightening up. "That is true. Nobody ever cares about Doctors. They just complain that they could have done something else
to stop that kid from dying, or that they should have cleaned those needles
before they stuck them in--"
"And Doctors don't get to live in San Francisco, either." Said Tim enticingly.
"Don't they have doctors over there?" I asked, puzzled.
Tim took a deep breath, and there was a long, drawn out silence. Then, he said, "Shut up."
"Why are you trying to make me a Game Designer, anyway?" I asked. "I mean, I appreciate it and all. But... why me?"
They exchanged glances, and then Ron leaned forward and put his mouth to my ear. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then he screamed, "BECAUSE YOU ARE... THE CHOSEN ONE!"
"Ow." I said, rubbing my ear because my brain hurt. "Chosen for what?"
"For Game Design." Dave said. "And we have been chosen by--Oof"
Tim hit Dave and interrupted; "We've been chosen by an individual that shall remain nameless, to ensure you eventually become a game designer."
"I wasn't goi-ng to sa-y her n-ame." Dave gasped, doubled over in pain.
"Did my Mom pay you guys off to do this?" I asked suspiciously.
The three men exchanged swift glances, and then Ron cleared his throat, and paused, and clearly his throat again, and said, "no."
"So you guys are going to keep bugging me in my dreams, if I don't?" I inquired.
"Yes, pretty much." Ron conceded.
"Are you sure I should give up my dream of being a doctor?"
"Yes, definitely." Tim said confidently, waving his index finger at me and staring up at the ceiling as though looking for a reason as to why I should give up my dream of becoming a doctor to pursue game design. He kept waving his finger for a few seconds after he finished the sentence, and his mouth kept opening and shutting as he tried to find something to say, and then he stammered, "Y-yeah," and put his hands on his hips, as though daring me to ask why he was so definite.
"Well, okay... What happens if I never become a game designer?"
"Then you will die." Tim said, waggling his fingers again.
"Yes. You will die. It is your destiny to become a Game Designer. OooOOOooOOooo."
"But... do you do this with all people destined to become Game Designers? Or just me?"
"Just you. OOoOoOOOooo!!!"
" Stop that. And, why?"
"Because it's going to be hard for you. The road is a hard one."
"Will I make it?"
"If you really, really try, yes. Or you could just marry a rich business man from San Francisco, that would make things a lot easier."
"Well, if you say so. Thanks, you guys." I said.
"We'll see you in about ten years." Said Tim, and they faded away. "And visit www.doublefine.com
Have any of you ever been visited like this in your dreams?