Loaded for bear.
[Reader's Note: We have been told that screenshots of the gameplay will be available soon. Until then, please don't be creeped out by the two face shots of Mr. Naughty Bear.]
Once upon a time, I thought my home was really the Island of Perfection. What a load of crap. This place is plagued with pleasantry, overrun by bears stuffed full with bliss and ignorance and extra tall cotton. Callow they are, so fluffy and wuffy, sniffing flowers in forests reeking with the swampy scent of spoiled merriment like baby rats slurping from a bottle of poisoned sugar water. They frolic and dance around the campfire of suckers, pawns of the law whose bright-eyed innocence only matches their bushy-tailed panic.
[image1]Rattle something shiny over their heads, and they will smile and laugh and whimper for days. Gullible and weak… but that I understand, that I can forgive. For I once was them, an oversized Beanie Baby singing the daily song: “Tra la la di da, tra la la di day, thoroughly neutered, thoroughly spayed.”
But when their precious world began to crumble, when things began to go wrong, their blame fell on me, their fingers all desperate and cowardly, pointing like those of children who have just told their very first lie. I am now the scapegoat, the bear stuffed with anger and truth and sour cotton candy. I have been told that I don’t belong, that I should be more like them, and that makes me oh so very, very naughty.
Maybe it would be enough if I scared some bears, made a few prank phone calls, put on a frowny face, or found a way to relax. Maybe spread a bit of manipulation and terror like a Desperate Housebear. But that wouldn’t be justice. No, that wouldn’t solve anything. Things would just continue the way they’ve always been in a perpetual mindwashing rinse cycle that just cannot go on any longer.
[image2]Chaos, that’s what this world needs. Some healthy debauchery, some sadistic revenge, some intermittent bear-icide. Show them just how helpless and brainless they really are.
So let’s not just frighten or kill them, let’s make them insane. Scare them with growls; whack them with bats, chop them with machetes and knives and axes; make them walk into beartraps; and sabotage their cars. Let’s show them the real meaning of “the more, the merrier”, for combos and multipliers and points and high-scores.
Let them witness their hysteria. Let the truth spread from the forests to the plains, to the mountains and cities. Let it fill this godforsaken toy box until it’s clean and bare. Let them send the police, the robots, the S.W.A.T. bears. Let them try to stop me, for I will not be ignored. I will cleanse this little big planet of wannabe Sackboys and Teletubby frauds. I will become their Happy Tree Friend, One-Of-A-Kind, One-Time Special For A Limited Time.
Naughty Bear will be there soon. Next year, for sure. Possibly in the spring, in the summer or fall. They won’t see me coming. It hasn’t happened before. But it looks like this island will be perfect, after all.