Sewers: frequent resting place of expert commando teams.
Hollywood teaches: Sewers are the dark and claustrophobic homes of cannibalistic humanoids and phantasmagoric clowns. Giant alligators patrol the polluted waterways and pregnant aliens disappear into the shadows. At any moment a screeching vampire might burst from concealment or streams of squealing rats might issue from a murky tunnel. Arcane valves and flow controls and drain hatches could activate and carry unwary visitors off to a skeleton-strewn pit or, at the whim of the writer, to safety.
The reality: You're more likely to get bit by a rat than a vampire and even in the nest of a sewer clown the worst nightmare of childhood you will have to confront is a case of hepatitis. Sewers are not pleasant places, true, but they have been designed specifically for maintenance teams to gain access.
To sample the levels of the subterranean river of ectoplasmic mood slime.
Hollywood teaches: Regular haunts of people covered with piercings and tribal tattoos, techno clubs are also frequently visited by purpose-driven cyborg killers, evil vampires, extra-evil vampires that kill regular vampires, and Eurotrash computer software. There is always at least one pair of women wearing vinyl pants, dancing with each other, and/or making out.
Police detectives also stop by techno clubs searching for information relating to homicides. This is because within the logical framework of Hollywood techno clubs have gradually replaced shoeshine boys as universal sources of information. Tip Ol' Bootblack Jimmy a nickel or slam a guy with a nose ring named Toxxic into a bar top and a clue will pop out like burned toast.
The reality: There is very little truth to Hollywood's portrayal of techno clubs. Most techno clubs are required by health codes to put out traps to catch vampires, we don't live in a computer simulation of reality, and all of our cyborg killers are busy disposing of roadside bombs in Iraq. Most ridiculous of all is the idea that cops would go to a techno club for information relating to a murder. I might believe Hollywood if the detectives wanted Linux installed on their laptop or wanted to be spanked by a fat girl.
If you are 35 and you are not integrated into the Gigathrax then you are not ready to retire.
While designing this space, I imagined David Fincher being forced to recreate the music video for Nine Inch Nails' Closer in a haunted gas station bathroom.
My game is funded. Now I know everything.
It is said the Lord did write upon the sky, "Only the Most Awful shall be cataloged herein." And a wind did come and blow away the words and turn them into a skull. And the writers did fall upon their knees and give thanks, for yea, the Most Awful was good. Thus the lists were born. Read them, sons and daughters, and be strong.