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Sweet! Here's my new clue.

[LIGHT FROM HEAVEN]

LIGHT FROM HEAVEN

The smell of gunpowder hung thick in the air. The acrid smoke burned the eyes of Professor Ludwig. He regretted shooting his assistant, but it had been necessary.

"I can't believe you shot me, you batty old fool!"

Ludwig regretted that had only brought one bullet for the antique dueling pistol -- the only gun he owned.

"I'm going to limp for a month after they pull this bullet out of my leg, you know!"

Ludwig also regretted that he had forgot to bring his glasses.

Still, the plan had been a success. Long years of secretly positioning pieces behind the scenes had at last paid off. Designing a circuit board here, writing telecom software there. A few subtle hacks of certain databases. The occasional semester spent lecturing students at MIT or CalTech, planting seeds of thought that would sprout where and when the time was right. All these clever strands were at last being pulled together to suddenly and unexpectedly form a lovely homemade sweater of genius and deceit.

"Es ist wunderbar," Professor Ludwig sighed and was glad that his life's goal was coalescing in front of him, indisputable proof of the near-flawless nature of his intricate plan -- that one semester spent lecturing to a Beginner's Knitting class due to a misreading of the job application notwithstanding.

He flexed his toes, snug inside the luxurious hand-knitted socks and considered it time well spent.

The lab's large display screen informed him that high above this secret New Mexico facility, suspended in orbit around the Earth, a group of otherwise innocuous satellites that had slowly altered their orbits over the last several months were now aligning themselves into their heretofore secret "death ray" configuration. None of the parties involved with building or launching those devices could have guessed at their true purpose... until now.

"Why the hell are they stacking up like that?" came the voice of his assistant from across the room.

"I will tell you, Dave."

"Dan."

"Because when I was fourteen, the pretty young mädchen who lived across the street from me broke my heart when she left me for an older boy." Ludwig sighed deeply at the recalled memory. "Naturally, I vowed to commit suicide. But my father owned only a safety razor and my mother hid her sleeping pills too well for me to find. So I did the only thing I could..."

The old man sighed deeply... Germanly... taking a moment before continuing.

"I undertook a sixty year plan to secretly build a multi-part death ray in space and use it to vaporize myself from orbit."

"Why not just get over it and find another girl?"

"Oh, I did that. I was a horny teenager, after all. And eventually, I had a chance encounter with that girl while standing in line at Der Wienerschnitzel. We had both wound up in America, as it turned out. I suppose we were both homesick and wanted a taste of the Fatherland." He smiled at the thought.

"So what happened?" the assistant asked, managing to sound genuinely interested, despite the bullet in his leg.

"We married. And had children! Oh, it was wonderful." He sighed again, wistfully. "Sadly, I had already committed to this plan. There was no turning back. I am German, after all. We Germans take our commitments very seriously, you know."

Indicators began to flash. Lights blinked. A klaxon sounded. At last, all was ready.

I hope the grandchildren will enjoy the Christmas sweaters I knitted for them, Ludwig thought to himself, knowing they wouldn't. Children only cared for the video games these days.

He leaned into the microphone and spoke the activation phrase:

"Meine socken sind erstaunlich."

Above, the tightly packed cluster of satellites discharged their power packs into carefully arranged lenses, sending a narrow beam of tightly focused white-hot particle beam death hurtling down to a three feet wide circle on the roof of a laboratory in the middle of the New Mexico desert. It instantly disintegrated the roof of the building and atomized the person standing expectantly underneath it.

Bathed in the light he had made, old Dr. Ludwig smiled as he painlessly effervesced away into nothingness. He would have preferred to live out his last days with his wonderful wife, but a promise made must be kept. For a moment, he hoped the drawer filled with small handmade socks made just for her feet would ease her grief. And then, in a wink, he was no more.

The screen displayed that the sequence was complete. It showed the satellites drifting apart, on their way to burn up in re-entry. A printer spat out a single page as the program shut down and deleted itself. The assistant limped over and took it from the tray. He fanned the billowing cloud of Ludwig smoke away and read it.

    Misled by fancy's meteor ray,
    By passion driven,
    But yet the light that led astray
    Was light from Heaven.

"This is why angsty teenagers should never be allowed to ready poetry," said the assistant to no one at all.

The bullet in his calf ached terribly and his store bought socks offered him no comfort.

THE END

________________________
(Edited to comply with "The Man" and his "rules".)

Spoiler

(Fight The Power! )

[close]

The Room?

Another fine podcast, but gosh it got unexpectedly humid at the end! Bromance indeed!

Happy birthday, Tramponline. I hope you get a new trampoline!

I think you mentally insert Shaft into all movies.

Truth be told, my brain processes the world like this:

[Ponchvision]

[/Ponchvision]

Yes, I drop Shaft into everything. But I'm Shaft. That extra bit is what makes it awesome (for me -- for everyone else, it's creepy. I go around softly humming the theme music to myself and calling everyone "jive turkey" under my breath).

Some folks go full "Ponch Trophy Wall of Glorious Victories" in the signature, some folks put one or two, and other folks don't bother.

But it's so lovably tacky!


Personally, I prefer the homemade trophies. Some are really neat, most are presentable, and several are adorably shoddy. But each one was made with love! Heck, a few people are still using the candy corn and pimphat trophies I handed out a while back. Maybe the trophies aren't always "regulation size" or even "competently made" but there's no reason they don't deserve a home here in the AGS forums. Heck, we're a community that loves to make games in a style that went out of fashion twenty years ago. We're practically "The Island Of Misfit Toys"! Why should our trophies be hip and cool when we're not?

I vote we keep the silly, hand crafted trophies. They're as much a reflection of the wonderful people here as Icey Snake Ghost. And everybody loves Ghost!

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a couple of trophies to add to my trophy pack.

Shaft In Africa?

Shaft's Big Score?

Yeah, baby! I can dig it!

Love that movie. The great helicopter chase is one of my favorite 70s action scenes EV4R!!!

Your turn, hep cat.

  Is the lead actor Richard Roundtree?

You're damn right it is, baby!

Dust Runner!

Not at all close! But keep trying, baby!

(Also: Not dust, but rather gunfire. It's a funky action movie, dig?)

Happy b-day, Adeel.

Surfin' USDA is one of the arcade games you can play in it and it's finished.

This brought a smile to my face

Brazil?

Not Brazil. Think funkier, baby!

bbx1138: Very true!

EDIT:
Clearly my movie is just too cool for you jive turkeys. So I'll do you suckas a solid and give ya'll another clue, baby.

Not the Fifth Element and not Lawnmower Man either.

Snake Plissken is the most western hero I've ever seen outside of a western. The same can be said of Jack Burton too. Also, I've heard of Tale Spin, but I don't think I've ever seen it. I was a bit too old when those Disney shows hit the air, sadly.

Congrats, Ghost!

Only Angels Have Wings was the inspiration for one of my favorite TV shows, Tales of the Gold Monkey. For some reason I didn't recognize it until you posted that last shot. And Howard Hawks loved cowboys so much, he stuck them in almost every movie he did. Much like John Carpenter, a big fan of Hawks, tends to do.

Anyhoo, here's a cap from a movie I watched just last weekend.

Barn Hunter!

Only Angels Have Wings?

Old school bump!

  The boob signal is serious business, so I'll toss some Robert Burns around in the ole noggin' and see what happens.

Like moths to a flame!