Post by nbk on Jul 7, 2011 19:17:52 GMT -5
You'd just had the honor, apparently, of meeting Robert ooley, UGWC's head of Human Resources. He'd been filiming some promotional work to try and tempt some more sponsors, and between takes a lot had become clear about this company. If this deplorable man was one of the most powerful in the company, it explained so much.
In the hour or so you were forced to experience his own peticular brand of charismatic charm you had concluded a few things. He was most definitely quite delusional, but most people in UGWC were, he clearly had an abusive father as a child and was more than likely addicted to alcohol or narcotics. He was obsessed with himself, and it made him blind to the damage his own ego caused to everyone around him, which in turn damages his own position.
However, the individual directed this piece, was almost a complete juxtaposition. Bright, smart, innovative, this was a man with more talent in his sweat than the foul mouthed Neanderthal in front of the camera. In only an hour, and during a relatively straight forward promotional video, you could already tell he was a visionary.
As you made you're way towards your car after the shoot, one question kept bugging you. Why was Moss Edwards taking direction from Ooley? It made no sense, at all, but before you can set off on an internal rage at the state of UGWC and start wondering what it would be like to work for a 'real' company, you are confronted by movement, and you stop.
Set up your tripod and camera...
And start to roll...
The Natural Born Killer leans against the UGWC Arena wall, out of breath, panting, his whole body shaking from seeming exhaustion, he mutters under his breath, his head twitching from side to side...he occasionally stiffens up in pain and reaches his hand up towards his face...but then he realises he has company...and turns his attention towards the camera.
Temporary, the peace is only ever temporary...nothing ever changes, they just won't allow it to do so...and so they scream, oh how they scream...The Killer can hardly get a thought in, this, this interaction itself is....agony. If I try to contemplate something they do not favour...they tear the inside of my head to shreds, there is no free will in the minds of The Killer...I am only allowed to think what they want me to think...
They want The Killer to think about Enigma and Chris Peterson...their own inner turmoil and the dance that will come..despite the inadequacy of what is on offer, their focus has strayed from the prospect of the bigger...prey. The pain I feel is not because...I laid defeated at Synergy and let them down...they try to avoid something...what do they avoid?[/b]
The Killer falls to his knee's and clutches his head between his hands.
It is not Enigma, they speak of him much, they do not wish The Killer to forget that his screams, whilst young, are maturing each and every week. Each week that he sees those he once felt equal with....disappearing into the distance ahead of him...at his expense. The crushing disappointment he feels each and every time he discovers that his best, is just not good enough.
And Chris Peterson...excites them, as he comes toward the brink of his destiny. His doubts, his inner suffering is as ripe as it has ever been as he stands mere weeks away from that which has consumed him for so long. He knows he is far from ready...that he relies on lady luck each time he steps between the ropes.
Yet it makes no sense...why would they embrace this underbelly...when they were so close to richer more fulfilling prey...why try to distract The Killer...what is it they hide...
Even sharing does not anger them, it merely excites them, JK being in close proximity....to Enigma is seen by them as a positive, it will make the inner turmoil of Enigma even more prominent. They never like to share...but when I remind them...they tear into my cortex...they don't want me thinking....of that...[/b]
He clutches his head once more, and claws at the top of his mask as he lets out a scream which rings out for many seconds before ending as a whimper
What do they repress...what can I not know....I must remember....despite the pain...this much I do know...[/b]
Now The Killer falls to his stomach and begins to smash his head violently against the floor whilst screaming and crying alternately.
His hands start to claw at the ground, his finger nails splintering, blood beginning to seep from the tips, as the unbearable sound continues from his head which he still slams against the floor.
He then springs to his feet, his mask now becoming a thick shade of read as blood spreads from within. He then throws himself against the wall with all his force, falling to the floor, and gettign back up and doing it again....
And again...
And again...
And again...
And then he stops.
He turns....and screams. Then between deep breaths...he seemingly fights himself to speak...his lips curling underneath his mask...his own face trying to stop him...
Rudo...no screams...nothing at all...no partners...no agony...Prince Rudo...is hope.[/color]
And as abruptly as the display of manic self punishment stopped, it begins again, until The Killer is on he knee's and drags his body off out of shot.
And the camera stops shooting.
In any other profession, if you showed what you had just filmed to your boss, they'd immediately call for your co-worker to be restrained for their own safety, and you'd probably be offered some form of counselling for having experienced it first hand.
In UGWC, they'd ask why the lighting was off during the 'head slamming' segment.
In the hour or so you were forced to experience his own peticular brand of charismatic charm you had concluded a few things. He was most definitely quite delusional, but most people in UGWC were, he clearly had an abusive father as a child and was more than likely addicted to alcohol or narcotics. He was obsessed with himself, and it made him blind to the damage his own ego caused to everyone around him, which in turn damages his own position.
However, the individual directed this piece, was almost a complete juxtaposition. Bright, smart, innovative, this was a man with more talent in his sweat than the foul mouthed Neanderthal in front of the camera. In only an hour, and during a relatively straight forward promotional video, you could already tell he was a visionary.
As you made you're way towards your car after the shoot, one question kept bugging you. Why was Moss Edwards taking direction from Ooley? It made no sense, at all, but before you can set off on an internal rage at the state of UGWC and start wondering what it would be like to work for a 'real' company, you are confronted by movement, and you stop.
Set up your tripod and camera...
And start to roll...
The Natural Born Killer leans against the UGWC Arena wall, out of breath, panting, his whole body shaking from seeming exhaustion, he mutters under his breath, his head twitching from side to side...he occasionally stiffens up in pain and reaches his hand up towards his face...but then he realises he has company...and turns his attention towards the camera.
Temporary, the peace is only ever temporary...nothing ever changes, they just won't allow it to do so...and so they scream, oh how they scream...The Killer can hardly get a thought in, this, this interaction itself is....agony. If I try to contemplate something they do not favour...they tear the inside of my head to shreds, there is no free will in the minds of The Killer...I am only allowed to think what they want me to think...
They want The Killer to think about Enigma and Chris Peterson...their own inner turmoil and the dance that will come..despite the inadequacy of what is on offer, their focus has strayed from the prospect of the bigger...prey. The pain I feel is not because...I laid defeated at Synergy and let them down...they try to avoid something...what do they avoid?[/b]
The Killer falls to his knee's and clutches his head between his hands.
It is not Enigma, they speak of him much, they do not wish The Killer to forget that his screams, whilst young, are maturing each and every week. Each week that he sees those he once felt equal with....disappearing into the distance ahead of him...at his expense. The crushing disappointment he feels each and every time he discovers that his best, is just not good enough.
And Chris Peterson...excites them, as he comes toward the brink of his destiny. His doubts, his inner suffering is as ripe as it has ever been as he stands mere weeks away from that which has consumed him for so long. He knows he is far from ready...that he relies on lady luck each time he steps between the ropes.
Yet it makes no sense...why would they embrace this underbelly...when they were so close to richer more fulfilling prey...why try to distract The Killer...what is it they hide...
Even sharing does not anger them, it merely excites them, JK being in close proximity....to Enigma is seen by them as a positive, it will make the inner turmoil of Enigma even more prominent. They never like to share...but when I remind them...they tear into my cortex...they don't want me thinking....of that...[/b]
He clutches his head once more, and claws at the top of his mask as he lets out a scream which rings out for many seconds before ending as a whimper
What do they repress...what can I not know....I must remember....despite the pain...this much I do know...[/b]
Now The Killer falls to his stomach and begins to smash his head violently against the floor whilst screaming and crying alternately.
His hands start to claw at the ground, his finger nails splintering, blood beginning to seep from the tips, as the unbearable sound continues from his head which he still slams against the floor.
He then springs to his feet, his mask now becoming a thick shade of read as blood spreads from within. He then throws himself against the wall with all his force, falling to the floor, and gettign back up and doing it again....
And again...
And again...
And again...
And then he stops.
He turns....and screams. Then between deep breaths...he seemingly fights himself to speak...his lips curling underneath his mask...his own face trying to stop him...
Rudo...no screams...nothing at all...no partners...no agony...Prince Rudo...is hope.[/color]
And as abruptly as the display of manic self punishment stopped, it begins again, until The Killer is on he knee's and drags his body off out of shot.
And the camera stops shooting.
In any other profession, if you showed what you had just filmed to your boss, they'd immediately call for your co-worker to be restrained for their own safety, and you'd probably be offered some form of counselling for having experienced it first hand.
In UGWC, they'd ask why the lighting was off during the 'head slamming' segment.
