Generic-Giant-Spider
Guest
I'm sure there are some skilled women writers out there, but let's be real here and say the vast majority of them should stick to being a bunch of paperback dispensing romance novelists that has their work occupy racks in some airport. This is Gaming, this is a man's world you're walking into. You better have grown up with a lot of brothers or be a mind reader because all that rosey-posey shit isn't going to work here, princess!
So I want all those female Obsidian writers to first off, grow their damn hair out and restore it to a colour that doesn't look like you wandered into the gay part of the Baskin Robbins selection of ice cream. Secondly, put on A LOT of make up. Thirdly, march on down to what I can only assume is called The Josh Sawyer Sex Vault at the offices and study old school RPGs and their writing techniques until you have a good idea of what is deemed acceptable by your dick-toting counterparts.
And I know Tim Cain, I don't actually know Tim Cain but I know what sort of guy Tim Cain is. He's a good man, a big fluffy heart, he doesn't like to hurt people and these B-cup gargoyles are taking advantage of his convivial nature. They should be ashamed. Tim Cain wants to make his dream game and it is at risk for being another medium for these rug-munching Brunhilda's to push their social agenda.
You know what? I don't think there is any scenario in which this game is released and does not end up having Obsidian go bankrupt unless I am hired to shit talk the people working there behind a bulletproof glass in the shape of a giant cube for eight hours and for near six figure pay with a dental plan and company car. This may sound like I'm begging for a job, but you couldn't be more wrong. I am offering my services at a discount to not only be the wake up call for these fat and complacent cows, but to ensure Tim Cain his project is left in capable hands.
CAN I GET A BROFIST HERE? FUCK.
So I want all those female Obsidian writers to first off, grow their damn hair out and restore it to a colour that doesn't look like you wandered into the gay part of the Baskin Robbins selection of ice cream. Secondly, put on A LOT of make up. Thirdly, march on down to what I can only assume is called The Josh Sawyer Sex Vault at the offices and study old school RPGs and their writing techniques until you have a good idea of what is deemed acceptable by your dick-toting counterparts.
And I know Tim Cain, I don't actually know Tim Cain but I know what sort of guy Tim Cain is. He's a good man, a big fluffy heart, he doesn't like to hurt people and these B-cup gargoyles are taking advantage of his convivial nature. They should be ashamed. Tim Cain wants to make his dream game and it is at risk for being another medium for these rug-munching Brunhilda's to push their social agenda.
You know what? I don't think there is any scenario in which this game is released and does not end up having Obsidian go bankrupt unless I am hired to shit talk the people working there behind a bulletproof glass in the shape of a giant cube for eight hours and for near six figure pay with a dental plan and company car. This may sound like I'm begging for a job, but you couldn't be more wrong. I am offering my services at a discount to not only be the wake up call for these fat and complacent cows, but to ensure Tim Cain his project is left in capable hands.
CAN I GET A BROFIST HERE? FUCK.