How About Ten Minutes of Syndicate Gameplay?

You sir look bored.  I know, I know.  It's Thursday afternoon and we are all but a day away from the weekend.  Sure, there's work you could do but you'd rather be paid to surf the internet.  I understand where you're coming from.  The main problem you have is that you can't watch any video content because your boss would catch you in a heartbeat.  It's a depressing situation, I know, but it's something you have to take care of because EA released a ten minute gameplay video of Syndicate that details much of the game's design.

Your eyes are darting back and forth.  Syndicate?  Gameplay?!  TEN MINUTES WORTH?!  The thoughts race through your head as you stare at that pile of paperwork in your inbox.  If it were a normal cat video you'd be able to write it off as something your wife sent you but no, not Syndicate.

As you stare at the play button a deep voice speaks quietly in your head.  Want.  Your need for delicious Starbreeze-infused gaming has awakened the inner gamer you lock away every day when you leave for work but it's somehow busted out and is slowly taking control.  Want it cries, unsatisfied by your feeble attempts to calm it with a game of Sydney Shark (an admiral attempt but ultimately futile).  Its growing louder.  Want it demands, insisting that you press the play button.   It won't be satisfied until you press that button and it can't be suppressed.  Your heart races, the adrenaline pumping through your veins, your fight or flight instincts kicking in.  Want.  WANT.

You stand up sharply, peering over the sea of cubicles that occupy your office, arranged in a manner that seems as if a twisted business man wanted to trap his workers in a labyrinth from which you can't escape until 5pm.  There!  Against the wall on the far side you see him: your boss, standing next to the water cooler with another nameless, destitute employee, smiling as he details his weekend plans with his family out on his brand new yacht.  If he sees you watching the video you know he'll have you work overtime on Saturday and THAT'S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN.  The voice demands you watch this video and it can't be stopped.  WANT.

You desperate look around, looking for something you can use to distract him with so you can ten minutes to yourself.  No donuts to be found and offered, no annoying colleague to send over to discuss the Rangers game last night and the one hot chick in the office took the day off.  The voice is now screaming at you.  WANT.  WANT.  It's beginning to take control and it can't be stopped.  You have to do something, quick!

There!  Your salvation appears in the form of a bit of smoke coming from the restroom fifty feet away.  The maintenance man is feeding his cigarette vice and, once again, can't be bothered to take it outside.  This is your chance!  Your boss has warned him about this before and a fifteen minute lecture on the office's no-smoking policy is more than enough for you to get your job done.

As you step away from your cubicle a small, victorious smile appears on your face.  As you near the restroom however a chill sweeps through your body.  The smile deepens on your face and you realize that the voice has taken control.  You are but a passenger in your body.  A whispered "want" escapes your lips and for a second you struggle, desperate to calm the gaming demon that has possessed you.  And then, like a light has been flipped on inside your dark mind, the voice speaks back to you.

"It's ok" it says, "everything's going to be alright."

The gentle warmth of the words spoken by the voice sweeps into you and you stop resisting.  You watch as your body stops in front of the maintenance man's cart and reaches for the socket wrench, your smile growing wider.  For a second a part of you screams for you to stop but the reassuring voice drowns it out.

As you walk across the room toward your boss your colleagues turn and stare at you, puzzled by your actions.  The smile you wear grows larger, depicting the internal madness that has overtaken you.  When you reach him he greets you with his usual smug demeanor and when you don't reply he gets a confused look.  You reach back with your arm and as his horrified eyes finally see the wrench he can do nothing as the first strike bashes into his temple, causing him to tumble to the ground in a bloodied heap.  You hear gasps from your coworkers but it does nothing to stop you as you bring the wrench down on him again two, three, four, five times.  Your boss begs you to stop, screaming for his life but the only reply you can utter is "want."

The task is done.  As you drop the wrench from your hands and hear it clang against the ground you look into the eyes of your coworkers, all of whom are terrified.  The smile, that demonic twisted smile few people who haven't watched Nyan Cat looped for nine hours could ever hope to wear, speaks again: "want."  As you walk back to your desk in your blood-stained clothes you glimpse an employee fumbling for his phone, undoubtedly attempting to dial 911.  "It's ok" the voice speak once again, "everything's going to be alright."  After all, you work in an office building on the outskirts of town and the logical part of your mind reminds you that it'll take the police fifteen minutes to get there.  That's plenty of time and as sit back and your desk and press the play button a final word escapes your mouth.

"Want."