/r/Outpost31
A subreddit dedicated to John Carpenter.
Welcome to the John Carpenter subreddit.
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Schedule for Re-Watching
Movie | Watch Period (Soon to Change) |
---|---|
Halloween | Oct. 31- Nov. 10 |
Dark Star | Nov. 11- Nov. 18 |
Assault on Precinct 13 | Nov. 19- Nov. 26 |
The Fog | Nov. 27- Dec. 7 |
Escape from New York | Dec. 8- Dec. 20 |
The Thing | Dec. 21- Dec. 31 |
Christine | Jan. 1- Jan. 7 |
Starman | Jan. 8- Jan. 15 |
Big Trouble in Little China | Jan. 16- Feb. 26 |
Prince of Darkness | Feb. 27- Mar. 6 |
They Live | Mar. 7- Mar. 17 |
Memoirs of an Invisible Man | Mar. 18- Mar. 25 |
In the Mouth of Madness | Mar. 26- April 2 |
Village of the Damned | April 3- April 10 |
Escape from L.A. | April 11- April 18 |
Vampires | April 19- April 26 |
Ghosts of Mars | April 27- May 4 |
The Ward | May 5- May 15 |
/r/Outpost31
Property of the United States Antarctic Research Program
Clearance Level: ALPHA REQUIRED
Unauthorized access is a federal offense under U.S. Code Title 50. Violators will be prosecuted.
The storm’s been raging for three days straight. The kind of cold that chews through layers and settles into your bones. Nobody talks about it, but you can see it on their faces—frayed nerves, short tempers. Antarctica isn’t just a place; it’s a pressure cooker. You sit here long enough, and the cracks start to show.
I don’t talk to the others much. Most of them think I’m just the guy who flies the chopper, but I’ve been in enough tight spots to know when a place is about to go bad. Out here, it’s not just the cold that gets you—it’s the quiet. Too much time to think.
Tonight, I found myself staring at the Chess Wizard in the rec room. I hadn’t touched it since I got here, not after Anchorage. It’s stupid, I know—a machine can’t really mess with you—but back then, it felt personal. Same smug moves, same humiliating defeats. I poured a bottle of Cutty Sark into its circuits and figured I was done with it.
But here’s its twin, humming away in the corner like nothing ever happened.
I told myself it was different, but curiosity got the better of me. At first, it played nice. A couple of easy wins to lure me in. Then, just like before, it flipped the script. Started pulling the same moves, the same traps, the same smug final checkmates. When the screen flashed “Checkmate” tonight, I swear I heard something—a crackle, low and distorted, almost like a laugh.
It pissed me off more than it should’ve. I grabbed what was left of the Cutty Sark and dumped it into the thing. Sparks flew, the screen went dark, and for a second, I thought I’d killed the lights for the whole damn station.
“Cheating bitch,” I muttered.
I was about to call it a night when I heard something over the wind. Low, distant—rotors. Helicopter.
I grabbed my jacket and headed to the window. Through the storm, I could see it—a chopper cutting low and fast, like the pilot didn’t know what the hell they were doing. And then I saw the dog.
It was running full tilt through the snow, heading straight for the station. Its movements were wrong—too frantic, too purposeful, like it wasn’t just running from something but toward us. There was no way to tell what it was running from, but I felt it in my gut: this wasn’t normal.
Nam taught me to trust that gut feeling. Something’s wrong. I don’t know what yet, but I’m not taking chances.
I’ll keep this short. Flamethrower’s fueled up and ready. If it’s nothing, great. If it’s something… well, I’ve seen worse.
R.J. MacReady
Helicopter Pilot, U.S. Antarctic Research Program