Palace Guard, somewhere in the ancient Middle East
Now hiring in: Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time
We bet there were loads of rubbish things about working hundreds of years ago. Low pay, crap dental plans and the chance you might get turned into a monster by a bunch of evil sand. In fairness, that last one only really applies to anyone unlucky enough to hold a position as a palace guard in Prince of Persia. Though we suppose lounging about all day staring at smoking hot Arabian wenches takes the sting off a bit.
Occasional glances at old timey thongs aside, this job really sucks the ancient evil-sponsored fat one. If being transformed into an undead demon courtesy of the Sands of Time wasn’t bad enough, these formerly stoic gents have to suffer the indignity of getting done in by the Middle East’s answer to a crime-fighting Hugh Grant.
Above: Oh the shame
Bartender, Moriarty's Saloon
Now hiring in: Fallout 3
Poor, Gob. What an existence this sad, mutated soul lives. Forced to a life of miserable servitude by a dastardly tavern owner, the ghoul has to serve beer to the type of moody assholes with daddy issues that wander out of underground vaults and suddenly think they can solve all their problems with weapons of mass destruction.
Above: Man, the Vault Dweller is such a douche
And we’ve not even touched on the whole ‘having your workplace situated within spitting distance of an unexploded nuclear bomb.’ Sure, most of us suffer crappy commutes into work every morning. But unless you have to precariously pass volatile nuclear weaponry each day, we think Gob’s journey has you beat. Ah well, at least he can look forward to his retirement.
Mysterious merchant of illegal, undead-killing wares
Now hiring in: Resident Evil 4
You no doubt think the Merchant has got a pretty kick-ass job, right? He gets to choose his own hours, he lives in sunny Spain and he’s got one helluva loyal consumer base. Trouble is, that particular base is limited to just the one customer. A customer Resi 4’s trench coat-sporting gun peddler has to follow wherever his La Plagas-murdering adventures take him if he wants to eat.
Worse, the particular corner of sunny Spain he’s stuck in is actually the most dangerous place on Earth. Seriously, just imagine trying to sell some lemonade in the most war-torn part of Baghdad. Now times that by fifty and add a giant human-scoffing troll and you’re not even close to the sheer suckage of the Merchant’s average working day.
July 20, 2010
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