Ridley Scott film starring Michael Fassbender? How could that be anything less than stellar? You reach confidently for Prometheus.
A keen of sirens blisters the air of the library. Uniformed police, guns drawn, stomp through the library towards you. The surly Ancient Librarian is thrown to the ground. You put up your hands.
“That’s her, chief,” says a familiar voice. You turn. It’s Pierce Mangrove, miraculously alive. Next to him is an aggressively moustached man in a light linen suit. You recognize his picture from a solemn, hushed report you saw on the news: it’s the dreaded Chief Inspector of the Good Taste Division.
The Chief looks you up and down, smug satisfaction oozing out from his under his bristles. “We’ve had our eyes on you for quite some time,” he says, slight Spanish accent percolating, “and it looks like my hunch was right. We had Officer Mangrove following you undercover for years. Even rigged that lightshow to see what you’d do. This country has laws, you know. Decency. That movie was absolutely terrible–it didn’t even make sense. Don’t get me started on that biologist. Good work, Officer Mangrove.”
The laws of the country are draconian. You are hauled away in handcuffs and sentenced to twenty years for bad taste by a scowling judge. You never learn the Mystery of Mister G.