Diary

Sir, You Are Being Diarised

There’s only one thing worse than being stuck on a British Isle, and that is being hunted by robots whilst stuck on a British Isle.

The last time I left Britain was on board a ferry, but now I need to power up some magic stones – the country really is suffering under Cameron, isn’t it? Oh well, time to don my monocle and camouflage top hat and see about these stones then, what. Oh yes, and use “chap” excessively.

[Sir, You Are Being Hunted from Big Robot Limited is currently in Alpha state – available to Kickstarter backers and through Steam Early Access. This is in no way a review, just some early impressions based on a (rather impressive) work in progress.]

I can see a hot air balloon slowly drifting my way, and here I am standing beside some giant glowing rocks like a right old tit. I head for the tree-line and heroically cower behind a shack until it passes.

I stick to the trees and wander over to the village nearby. Just as I approach the nearest building I realise I probably should have surveyed the area with my binoculars first, but nobody has shot at me yet, so I’ll call it a win. I loot some supplies out of one building and look about – across a field I can see at least three chaps on the prowl. The building held a revolver, but I have a hunch that I should continue heroically cowering behind buildings until I find something with a bit more punch, or range, or both.

I sneak around the town and loot all the buildings, getting enough bits and bobs to fill every pocket of my three-piece, tweed suit. Things were going tickety-boo until I decided to stand out in the open trying to figure out which pieces of food I found would be safe to eat. All of a sudden the ground around me lights up red and a siren starts blaring. Bollocks.

I decide not to waste my scant ammo on the chap in the balloon and instead make a break for it.

I dash outside the village and crouch beside a hedgerow… Just to tie my shoelace you see. I break out the binoculars to see if any robo-chaps responded to the siren, but the coast looks clear, and I get a look at the name of the town. Diddle Upton in-the-Wold? Who is Upton, and what the devil’s dyke is “Wold” slang for?
I’m suddenly happy with the name “Australia”; Her Majesty only knows what other shite we could have ended up with.

Another one of those important, glowing hunks of rock is just a bit further down this hedge row. I bend down to pick it up and realise I need to find somewhere to put it first. Hmm, what can I get rid of? I might need these rats later, and these boots. Can I put the rats in the boots to save space? Sadly, no. I dump the boots and the rats and the rats wearing boots and then bang.

Buggering shite cobblers! One of the robo-chaps got the drop on me. I grab my revolver and quickly do my best John Connor Dr Who impersonation and destroy the clanking monstrosity. I hightail it out of there before the sound of gunshots brings any other metallic lads out of hiding.

I wander into a nearby shed before remembering that I need to offload this magic rock before I can continue exploring. The shed has a smouldering campfire in it, so at least I know where to come if I shoot any game.

The sun begins to rise as I make my way back to the stones, but with that ruddy hot air balloon still patrolling I can’t stop to admire the view for long.

I rush back to the shed with the fire, alternating between crouching for safety and running between trees and other bits of cover for brevity. My movement is so erratic I’m expecting to be accepted into the Ministry of Funny Walks any second now.

From the shed I can see another tell-tale plume of smoke, so I wander over that way, keeping my head down. I grab the special rock, and then loot a nearby shack for an axe and some other bits and pieces.

Another quick, tense dash back to the stones to deposit my latest find, and then I sneak into another village. Bishops Cheating? Well, at least it’s not Bishops Diddle – there’s been enough of that coming to light in the news without needing a village named after it.

I grab some supplies and then see some more smoke just on the outskirts of the Cheating. I sneak around that way and take a butchers at two robots who appear to be guarding it. They’re onto me, it would seem – waiting by the glowing rock, knowing I’ll turn up sooner or later.

That last chap went down rather easily, all things considered, so I’m not too worried about these two. Still, it would be better if I could separate them and give myself a bit of breathing room.

From my cover beside a wooden shack, I bung a rock at the nearest one and he starts coming towards me. Excellent!
And then a moment later the other one follows. Bastard!

I unload my revolver into the nearest one and watch as sparks fly off him. They return fire and I duck around the back of the shack while reloading. I flank them and keep firing, gloriously heroic as I… bleed out on the ground at their robotic feet.

Toodle-pip, cruel world.

[Expect more on Sir, You Are Being Hunted in the coming weeks as I spend more time figuring it out, exploring the isles, and hopefully surviving a little longer than in this first foray.]

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