A Day in the Life of a Helghast Grunt (Killzone)
I finally bought Killzone 3 a couple of weeks ago. I have really enjoyed blasting my way through legions of Helghast - the intergalactic, cockney Nazis who spend the whole game on the wrong end of a machine gun - and feel that overall it is an improvement on KZ2.
Much like I have done in the past for Yakuza's Kazuma Kiryu and Red Dead Redemption's John Marston, here is a tongue-in-cheek diary entry of an unfortunate, Helghast grunt.
Warning: The following post contains traces of Cockney rhyming slang.
4.30 am - Cor blimey guvnor, its brass monkeys this morning and I've only gone and landed the early morning guard shift.
6.00 am – I have spent the last hour stationed next to an explosive barrel. I need to speak with health and safety.
8.00 am - Guard duty is over and it’s time for a spot of propaganda at a huge military rally.
8.15 am - I’m surrounded by red, black and white insignia. Rousing and hateful rhetoric is blaring through loudspeakers and is being lapped up by hundreds of thousands of uniformed troops. We are now doing a heil Visari salute, in unison. This seems uncomfortably familiar.
8.21 am - Shit, I know where I have seen this before. This is just like that World at War documentary I watched with the trouble and strife (wife) on the History Channel. We are supposed to be the bloody Nazis, aren’t we.
8.23 am - Red goggles, black uniforms, British accents, pale skin, lack of basic human rights, appalling treatment of prisoners of war and a totalitarian regime. So we ARE the bad guys. Why am I only realizing this now?
8.27 am - I should’ve listened to my mother when she told me not to join the military. If only I had followed my heart and became a Victorian chimney sweep instead.
9.00 am - I'm having a panic attack.
10.31 am - Brian and Gary have calmed me down. Evil or not, this is my planet and we will defend it to the last. We have been here ever since the population of Hackney was evicted and sent into space to make way for a new volleyball stadium for the 2060 London Olympics. This is our planet now and no amount of ISA troops or pushy Olympic committees will remove us from our new home.
11.30 am - Time for lunch at the Helghast cafeteria. I'm a little bit postman pat (fat) at the moment. I really want to get in shape for the summer so I can squeeze back into those speedos. I will be opting for the pickled whelk salad, though the eel pie does look tempting.
12.30 pm - Back to my daily rounds. We are looking for ISA stragglers and have orders to shoot on sight.
1.20 pm - Why do we leave huge caches of ammo and guns lying around everywhere? It’s as if we want to get shot.
2.00 pm - I raised my concerns with the commanding officer and he threatened to have me shot for insubordination. What a Berkeley Hunt (c*nt).
3.30 pm - Finally, some action. We have spotted a small group of ISA and are preparing to engage.
3.42 pm - Despite our uncanny ability to absorb an entire clip of bullets and remain upright, we still ended up losing 463 men to 2 of theirs. Are we really that inept?
3.43 pm - I could barely believe my mince pies (eyes). The ISA have some of the strongest thumbs in the galaxy. I just saw one soldier burst the visor and eyeballs of one of my comrades using only his opposable digits.
6.00 pm - Finally heading home after a long and bloody day.
7.00 pm - I'm going to surprise my wife with some sexy underwear that I picked-up on the way home from work. She'll never resist my wan charms.
8.00 pm - Just got off the dog and bone (phone) with the wife. She has to work late again, something about planning the invasion of Earth. Don’t wait up she said.
8.02 pm - I'm convinced she is having an affair with Gareth from down the road.
8.10 pm - I'm too tired to worry about it now and am happy enough curling up with a book and Lionel, our pet Labrador. Not sure what tomorrow will bring, but I’ll rest safe in the knowledge that it will be suitably bleak. As a proud Helghastian, I wouldn’t have it any other way.