(I have been thinking for a while about the idea of replaying the fantastic classic resource-management/turn-based-tactics game X-Com: UFO Defense, while writing up the experience from the perspective of the notional in-game organizational director through whose hands the player controls the world. This is an experimental first entry in that director’s personal journal. If this stays entertaining for me, there’ll be more entries in the future.

If you’re unfamiliar with X-Com and enjoy video games, I encourage you to go check it out pronto. It’s a classic, and still holds up well fifteen years later. And it’s like five bucks on Steam.)

—

Friday, January 1st, 1999
12:03 hours

Well, here it is at last. We’ve got an alien problem.

And somehow I got stuck with the job of putting that problem to bed. I must have done something pretty bad in a previous life.

Here’s to my directorship of the Xenomorph Defense Command Initiative. A mouthful. X-Com, the staff is calling it.

—

13:17

I don’t know if I’m being intentionally left in the dark or if my handlers just don’t know a goddam thing themselves yet. Neither option comforts me.

What I do know is that I’ve been given surprisingly little information about the alien threat. I have files on our materiel resources and equipment — ships and weapons, base facility blueprints — but it’s not much, barely more than brochures. And there are databanks for alien artifacts and life forms, UFO components, etc, but those files are in Old Mother Hubbard territory.

When I asked about that, my contact just shrugged and said that filling those files is part of X-Com’s job.

—

13:58

What little I have been shown about the alien threat itself took the form of a brief “orientation video”. I don’t know whether to laugh or spit. Bad actors dressed in face masks and green suits chewing on scenery, dramatic music, a corny little plotted battle. This is supposed to help me? Cheeseball propaganda?

—

15:04

We’re based in Pennsylvania, on a prefab slice of government concrete outside of Harrisburg, which is I suppose as good place as any to repel an alien invasion. I’m told that expanding operations over time to additional facilities is an option, and given that we have no particular reason to expect the aliens to subscribe to any theory of US exceptionalism it makes sense that we’d need X-Com to diversify its bases globally, but right now I’m looking at a limited budget, no information on the nature of the threat, and a skeleton crew of soldiers and lab goons.

And three planes. A troop transport and two fighters. That I’m pouring a third of my monthly budget into rental fees for, right out of the gate. And I’ve been told not to expect significant military intervention outside of X-Com’s own resources.

God help us if the aliens decided to bring more than one ship. Though maybe they’ll give me a better lease rate.

If they even exist. This feels like a farce. I could be golfing.

—

16:10

Just checked out our armaments. Enough rifles and pistols to put a gun in everyone’s hands, but that’s about it. Two spare pistols. Two spare rifles. Two heavy cannon, one auto-cannon, and one rocket launcher. Enough ammo for maybe two or three firefights.

I barely have enough guns for the soldiers I have, and that’s assuming nothing breaks down. And I’ve only got eight soldiers. Who approved this loadout?

It’s a good thing I’ve been given full discretion on spending. We’re gonna need a bigger budget.

—

18:33

Troop review. They’re in good spirits, but then they’re getting 20K a month to sit on their asses. I’d be cheerful too.

Nothing special, nothing terrible. A couple of them look like they’ve never pointed a gun at a breathing target before, which troubles me, but hopefully we can do something about that soon.

Igor Scharov, he’s a bear, though. I wouldn’t put him on recon, he seems a little slow on the draw, but as a squad leader he might just have the balls to make a team work.

Bear. Hmm. If I’m going to be stuck with this assignment, I might as well have some fun with it. Time to work up some callsigns.

—

21:12

I’ve requisitioned another sixteen troops, another dozen rifles and eight more auto-cannons, plus ammo to spare. Hopefully that’ll give me enough bodies and gear to staff multiple shifts, when and if anything actually happens.

I’ve also ordered construction of an additional barracks and more storage space; if we do need to staff up quickly for any reason, I want to be ready. And there’s a new, larger radar array going in; I’d like to have enough ears to know if something’s happening farther away than Poughkeepsie.

There’s a facilities diagram in the files for an “alien containment” unit, but I’m not going to spend money and real estate on that until I see evidence that there’s aliens to shoot in the first place, let alone survivors to cage up.

It’ll be nearly February by the time that’s all built. I have a feeling I’m going to make excellent progress on my thumb-twiddling in the mean time.

—

22:48

My science team has a few projects they’d like to work on, and I’m happy to let them; aside from the construction crew building the facilities, they’re probably the only folks in this whole base who will be getting something useful done.

I’ve put them on track for the laser weapons research initiative; alien invasion or no, there’s got to be some manufacturing money there.

Speaking of, I’ve been thoughtfully provided with ten production engineers with nothing to produce. I guess they can play frisbee with Animal Squad until the laser weapons can go into prototyping and beta-testing.

Animal Squad. Bear and Tiger and Wolf look like real front-line combatant material. Falcon and Eagle can hit a target though I’m not sure I want them leading any charges. Beetle, Weasel, Mouse: maybe they’ll surprise me. I hope so.

—

23:57

Long day. A third of my budget for the month was spent before I walked through the door, just on salaries and equipment rental and facilities maintenance. I’ve spent another third this evening. Let’s hope the rest of the month doesn’t have any surprises in store. If I have to pay to have this place re-roofed I may kill my realtor.

(On to Entry #2: First Contact!)