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I have rushed back from the edge of forever with this report. Indeed, the pundits may be correct: Video games will be the end of civilization. It's not what they thought, however. — Your correspondent, Andrew Hiscock.

On a hill just beyond the horizon, where the sun does not shine the grace of day, there sits a small house. In that house, three black-clad figures are playing cards.

A fourth enters, and all three look up at the sound of clicking chainmail. “Saddle up — the time is nigh,” War pronounces in a booming voice like a sergeant sending his men over the top. “We ride today.”

The three card-playing figures stare at War in a moment of silence. They then burst out laughing.

In a voice as dry as the sands of the Sahara, Famine croaks, “Are you kidding me? Again?”

In a burbling voice filmed with phlegm, Pestilence chortles. “Spare us, War. We have a pretty good pot on this hand. Grab a chair and we’ll deal you in on the next. Small blind is 25 souls; big is 50.”

“No you cretins! The Apocalypse is her…we must fulfill our destinies.”

“Listen, War,” booms Death in a voice as hollow as a church’s bell, “the only sure sign that the Apocalypse is not happening is when you say it is. Sit down — I bought cheese puffs!”

 

War takes a seat at the table, but he stares at his friends — if we may use the term loosely here — with renewed intensity.

“I have read the signs accurately this time. I am positive the Apocalypse is now!”

“What about when Scorsese won that Oscar?” asks Famine.

“That was when the fat lady sung, if I recall correctly,” says Pestilence, vomiting the words in derision.

“Remember when the Boston Red Sox won the World Series?” says Death.

“Pigs flew then,” says Famine, nodding. “And remember when he tried to claim the end was nigh when they won again? Sure, that was nothing special — they’d already won! Who is it this time? The Chicago Cubs? The Cleveland Browns?”

“Make fun of me all you want,” says War, sulkily. “I know for sure this time.”

“Like the time we had to scour the earth of humanity because Snooki and The Situation became famous?” says Pestilence between hacking coughs. “If I didn’t call the Devil to confirm that they were experiencing an exceedingly cold day down there, we would have really made a mess of it.”

“This time for sure,” says War, stubbornly. “Listen mates, Duke Nukem Forever will finally be released.”

Pestilence, Famine, and Death all share meaningful looks. After another moment of silence, they descend into hysterical laughter again.

“Duke Nukem Forever?” Death laughs like a funeral dirge. “That game is never coming out. Seriously, ante up; we’ll deal another hand.”

“No!” cries War. “It’s really coming out this time. 3D Realms was kicked off the project, and they handed it over to Gearbox!”

This gives his three friends moment for pause. “Didn’t they do Borderlands?” asks Pestilence.

“Shit, that was a good game,” says Famine.

“Yes,” says War, slamming his fist on the table. “And all the DLC! On schedule!”

Famine spreads his hands. “Impossible. That game has such a history; they’ll never do it.”

“Oh yeah?” says War. “They’re showing it right now in Las Vegas. It’s due to come out on May 3, 2011.”

Pestilence looks around nervously. Famine strokes his emaciated chin. Death stares blankly at War. “That’s close, eh?”

“Yes,” says War, simply.

Death looks at the other two. “Well, let’s go to the stables. We got some work ahead of us.”