It should surprise no one, except maybe a select group of highly-excitable mothers, that EA and Visceral are working on Dead Space 3, but we thought we should let you know that, though no official announcement has been made, the game is pretty much definitely being produced.
Speaking during the Goldman Sachs Technology and Internet Conference, EA CEO John Riccitiello excluded Dead Space from a list of EA's "strong, growing franchises," because, "it will probably take Dead Space 3 before we get into that five million unit cadence."
Clearly, Riccitiello wouldn't have mentioned the game if it wasn't planned. And that's it. That's the whole story.
Well, that was short. This article can't just end here - I mean, you clicked! You, the literate public, clicked a link, and now you demand to be satisfied with more words about things! Well, let's see...
I did have a pretty weird dream last night. When it started, I was on an episode of Becker (remember Becker?). Ted Danson was getting all uppity about some everyday frustration while I was trying to deliver him a cake. Oh, and Ted Danson wasn't Becker-era Ted Danson, he was present day, gets-mistaken-for-Ron-Perlman Ted Danson.
Anyway, he just wouldn't acknowledge that I had a cake for him. He started ranting about Reggie's new boyfriend or something, and just wouldn't shut up about it. It was a pretty great-looking cake, too, with chocolate swirls and fondant flowers and all that jazzy cake stuff. So I started getting frustrated, right, because who wouldn't? Well, my dream-self wasn't going to take it anymore, so I smashed the whole cake right on his massive forehead. Suck it, Becker!
Obviously, I needed an escape plan, but lucky for me, I didn't need, or even have, a moment to think about it - at the very instant I cake-attacked Becker, I discovered and executed the secret to becoming unstuck from space and time a la Billy Pilgrim. I was instantly flung far, far away from the surprisingly-still-rerun sitcom. I twisted and turned through rippling planes of meta-reality, peering down (or was it up? or diagonal-ways?) at the corporeal as they fretted over bills, relationships, and unusually-shaped moles on their thighs. I breathed fathomless breaths of glistening non-air which inflated my newbody like Kirby's rotund fuselage, and each exhalation ejected puffs of cartoon-style smoke which propelled me deeper into the well of my psyche.
And when I reached the bottom of that well, where my mind's nucleus quietly vibrates in absolute darkness, someone said something about Dead Space 3, so I woke up and went to work and wrote this article about it.
Feb 16, 2011