Control is a wonderful game. I can’t stop thinking about it and I can’t wait for the weekend to end so I can get back to playing it instead of working. But while many are talking about the incredible visuals or exciting action, I want to take a moment to showcase a small part of the game that you might not have noticed or didn’t look at for long. I want to talk about the fantastic posters found all around the game.
Almost immediately after starting the game I noticed some of these posters, which looked ripped out of the late 70s. Their artwork, their font and their overall look all screamed “retro propaganda.” At first, I didn’t really notice them or pay attention to them. But eventually one caught my eye for some reason and I realized these weren’t normal posters telling people to “Never share a password” or “Always report any suspicious characters.” Instead, these posters feature messages referencing haunted staplers, evil mold, and other strange things.
These posters are a perfect encapsulation of what I adore about Control. The game takes the mundane and mixes it with the fantastical and supernatural. Posters like this have existed in workplaces and military bases for years. But rarely do they warn employees to not eat mold.
It’s this mix of boring office imagery and otherworldly sights that really help build the world of Control. It often reminds me of The X-Files and how that show mixed dull FBI cars, suits and paperwork with ghosts, aliens and monsters. I could totally see Mulder getting a kick out of these posters.
Here are all the posters I’ve found so far and some thoughts on them. If you have spotted any I missed, share them in the comments below.
Within the fiction of Control, Altered Items are objects that have parantural abilities or traits. This is definitely one office you don’t want to steal paperclips from.
Even in a wacky and strange government agency that monitors supernatural events, management is still a bunch of assholes.
See, I disagree with the poster from before. If I’m wandering around a giant ever-changing building, trying to find my office, I’m working. It’s not my fault that management and the government decided to place my office in this mess. If I spend all day trying to work, I deserve to get paid.
I don’t want to tell the folks at this super-secret and powerful agency how to do their jobs, but that doesn’t look like mold. It looks like a piece of poop with a face.
This just feels like a rule put in place to allow managers and supervisors to freely read personal emails and texts. “Yeah, I’m totally working! Don’t even try to check on my computer or you will be breaking the law!”
I see the Boomers have been allowed to make a poster for the office.
You know that’s a lot of pressure to put on people. Also, that guy has a shotgun. I think he’s good. I do enjoy someone voicing their opinion on this poster with a big Post-It note.
This is a bit different than the other posters, but I wanted to include it because I love how normal it starts out and then it suddenly gets strange. Specifically, rule six.
Toys and CollectiblesAction figures, statues, exclusives, and other merchandise. Beware: if you look here, you’re probably going to spend some money afterwards.
If you thought moving was hard, try to do it with a 7,000 piece Lego set.
Recently, I moved out of a Los Angeles apartment I’d been in for six years to a house in the San Fernando Valley. It’s a big deal, of course, and something my wife Jayne and I had been planning and saving toward for a while. And yet, as exciting and grown up as the whole prospect was, when we began the actual, serious business of house hunting I almost didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to do it because it meant I’d have to move…a lot of stuff.
It’s not a revelation to talk about how much moving sucks. Because it does. Moving. Fucking. Sucks. But on top of that general dread was the fact that I’m a bit of an obsessive collector. Posters, Lego, various toys and prop replicas, DVDs, books, you name it and I probably collect it. So to move them all was more than a daunting task. It was a nightmare. And I mean that literally. I had nightmares about it.
You may be wondering what could be so bad. It’s just moving. Throw the stuff in some bubble wrap, write “Fragile” on the side and call it a day. Well, you see, that would be okay for normal people. However, my wife and I are not normal people. Our entire apartment was covered in framed art. And I do mean the entire apartment. You can watch a tour I did at this link right before we started taking things down to move. It’s literally hundreds of frames expertly puzzled together in a manic look most people hate. But we love it.
Quick aside to explain: Everyone told us buying a house in the Los Angeles area was damned near impossible. But it wasn’t for us. After about three months of looking, the first house we put an offer in was eventually accepted. The whole thing happened months before we expected it to, which was great—but also bad, because we were in a lease until the end of the year. So, to break that least, we had to put in two months notice and pay a $4000 penalty, which sucked almost as much as moving. However, we then knew we could stay in our apartment for two months and, in that time, slowly move everything into the new house, which is exactly what happened.
Twice a week, at least, for two months, Jayne and I took two cars full of crap to the house, which is about 20 minutes away from the apartment. The majority of those trips were framed art and fragile collectibles like Lego sets. Now, if you look online about how to move Lego sets, most people suggest taking them all apart and putting them back together. To me, that was not an option. I love my brick creations but they take hours, days even, to put together. I’d rather them stay intact, thank you very much. So it became about figuring out ways to move not just those, but also hundreds of framed posters and works of art.
The art was relatively simple. Take them off the wall, carefully line them up on a newly-purchased handtruck, bring them to the car, neatly stack them on top of each other separated by towels or sheets, wrap the piled-up frames in towels or sheets and then put a few heavy boxes up against them so they wouldn’t move. Sometimes those boxes were also filled with smaller frames, also stuffed with things to make sure they didn’t scratch. Then it was a matter of driving slowly and carefully to the house and unloading them. Done and done.
I can’t imagine what the process would have been, or what it would have cost, to move further than 20 minutes away, but luckily that’s not a story I’m able to tell.
The Lego sets were, actually, a similar story. My friend Jonathan suggested large plastic containers to move them. This way, if something fell off, it was contained and easy to find. So we bought a few of those and very carefully moved them into those containers. All went well until we got to the massive Lego Millennium Falcon. We couldn’t find any container big enough for it. We found one that came close, though, and it moved to the house with only minor hull damage. It was its very own version of the Kessel Run.
So over the course of the two months, Jayne and I moved all of the posters and Lego builds to the house. We moved other stuff too, but we concentrated mostly on things we knew movers would struggle with. Then, as the move date approached, I realized that my poster-filled flat file was going to be more of an issue than originally thought. This thing is seriously massive, seriously heavy, and filled with lots of very easily damaged limited paper.
An artist friend suggested moving each draw individually. However, you can’t walk through a doorway with a drawer because it’s too wide. You have to tip and angle it. To do that, he suggested applying pressure to keep the posters from moving when it was being tilted to get through the door. There was some huge risk in that, though. So, over the last week before the move, every trip to the house came with a stack of 30-50 posters, flat, in the back of my car. It turned out that you could stack flat posters pretty high on the handtruck and, as long as you didn’t nick the corners going through doors, it was fairly painless. With the flat file eventually empty, the movers moved it with ease, not having to worry about damaging the valuables inside.
Oh, and as for all the action figures, Hot Toys, Master Replica lightsabers, and more…we had been renting a storage unit to keep empty boxes in for most of those items. So it was just a matter of picking them up, repacking each item, and then moving them normally. It took some foresight but it worked out.
All of which is to say: moving is really hard. But it’s even harder if you have geek shit to think about—valuable, fragile shit you love and trust no one else with. Our movers were great but I think they would have been less great if we told them they had to move 300 framed pieces of art when they arrived.
So that’s my story. What’s yours. Do need tips? Hints? I’ll answer some questions below. But also, feel free to chime in with your own stories.
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