(If you haven’t read Part 1 of this interview, you can check it out here)

Hitler’s hookah is smaller than I’d expected: one would think that the Fuhrer would have relied upon some overwrought device of Volkshalle-ian proportions, but what I’m presented with is almost…dainty. Even though there are no swastikas on the bowl, I still feel kind of bad hitting the thing, even if it does rip like a champ. I offer the hose to Kazuhira Johnson, who politely declines, citing the fact that he “isn’t a fucking anti-Semite.”

Feeling appropriately chastened, I proceed to the next smoking implement in my host’s vast collection: a peace pipe once presented to Andrew Jackson (who apparently didn’t get the message). Kaz offers it to me with an air of ceremony and an inscrutable expression on his face.

I politely insist that he take the first hit; Johnson obliges me and takes a long pull before collapsing, apparently unconscious, onto a conveniently-located settee. I approach with some caution, anxious to avoid getting fingerprints on what is increasingly starting to look like a crime scene.

The Scrub Report: Kaz? Are you OK?

Kaz “Buster” Johnson: Who are you, and how did you get in my house?

TSR: Well, I’m not the fucking locksmith.

[At this point, Johnson produces an ornate dueling pistol from beneath the settee and brandishes it at the author.]

KJ: Ever seen a man get shot in the stomach with a flintlock?

TSR: [nervously]I – I guess in The Patriot?

KJ: I mean in real life.

TSR: I don’t believe I have, no. But if you’d like to continue the interview –

KJ: Interview?

TSR: Yes, sir, I’m with The Scrub Report. We were in the middle of an interview when you asked if I wanted to see Hitler’s hookah –

KJ: Aw, fuck. And then did I hit Andrew Jackson’s peace pipe?

TSR: Yes, sir, you did.

KJ: Shit. I gotta stop doing that. [He scratches his head with the barrel of the pistol.] Guess that’s why I’m on the swooning couch.

TSR: I guess so. Would you like to go back to the other room? Most of my recording equipment is in there…

KJ: In a minute. My head’s a little fucky right now.

TSR: Sure thing.

KJ: You ever do DMT?

TSR: Is that what’s in Andrew Jackson’s peace pipe?

KJ: Oh, no. [chuckles] I was just wondering.

[Johnson twirls the pistol around one finger like he’s Doc Holliday. The gun promptly goes off, blasting a fist-sized hole through a bucket of Ho Chi Minh’s cigarette butts.]

KJ: …dammit.

TSR: That was pretty loud.

KJ: What?

TSR: [shouting] That was kinda loud.

KJ: Yeah, my bad.

TSR: So, back to the, uh…spirit chamber? Like I said, most of my equipment’s in there.

KJ: Sure, let’s do it. [yawns] This gun killed Alexander Hamilton, you know.

TSR: Neat.

A minute or so later, we’re settled back in the spirit chamber and back to business. Johnson has, for some reason, brought along his Hamilton-slaying firearm, and continues to do tricks with it while we converse. I take comfort in the fact that, as far as I know, he hasn’t reloaded it.

KJ: What outfit did you say you were with, again?

TSR: I’m with The Scrub Report.

KJ: [sighs] Well, it’s not fuckin’ Vogue, but you take what you can get, I suppose.

TSR: Sure, I know what you mean.

KJ: What, like you’d rather be interviewing somebody else?

TSR: I wouldn’t say that, exactly.

KJ: Hey, man, I get it. I know I’m an odd bird. Hard to work with and all that. That’s why my career in ventriloquism never took off.

TSR: I didn’t know you spent time, uh, ventriloquizing.

KJ: That’s actually the correct word. ‘Ventriloquizing.’ I’m impressed.

TSR: Me, too, honestly.

KJ: But yeah, back in the day, I took some time off college and hit the road. Just me, my van, and a ventriloquist dummy named Manfred.

TSR: And this was in the 1980’s?

KJ: Early ‘80’s, yeah. Reagan years, baby. Everything was tax cuts, blow, and the subversion of foreign democracies, as far as the eye could see. Scarface was just a documentary about a guy in the upper-middle class.

TSR: That’s…fascinating.

KJ: You missed out, kid. Anyway, Manfred and I started off on the west coast – figured we’d work our way south from Seattle ‘til we hit L.A. ‘Course, we didn’t make it all that way…not by a long shot.

TSR: Hard to make a living as a ventriloquist.

KJ: Oh, not at all. We were bringing in the money like nobody’s business, me and Manfred. But the thing is…well, Manfred was too good.

TSR: Manfred – your dummy?

KJ: [laughs bitterly] Sometimes it felt like I was the dummy. Every time Manfred was in the room, my act was…wonderful. Wonderful. But the times he wasn’t there – when he was in the shop, or I wanted to try stand-up on my own – everything fell apart. It wasn’t that I wasn’t getting laughs when I should’ve been – I couldn’t even remember the material. Like, poof, it was just…out of my brain. Gone out to get milk, never to return.

TSR: Do you think you might have subconsciously relied on Manfred as some kind of totem? Like a good luck charm, almost.

KJ: A reasonable assumption, but…no. I thought so at first, too. But then, when we were alone, he started to talk. He had all these…odd little observations. Funny stuff. Sometimes I felt like he was trying out material on me.

TSR: That’s…exceptionally unnerving. What did you do?

KJ: What would you do?

TSR: I would have thrown Manfred into a furnace. Or a woodchipper.

KJ: Like Jimmy Hoffa.

TSR: I thought he was buried under Giants Stadium?

KJ: Place got demolished in 2010. No Hoffa.

TSR: Bummer. So, did you immolate Manfred? Or mince him to bits with lawn-care equipment?

KJ: [scoffs] Fuck no. I pawned him for $800. Used the money to pay for some books on coding and cover my rent for a couple months while I learned the basics.

TSR: And I suppose you got your first job in the gaming industry after that?

KJ: Yeah, but you know what the crazy thing is?

TSR: …that you had a ventriloquist dummy that actually talked?

KJ: Nah, nah. So I sold Manfred, right? Didn’t think about him again for years and years. Smash cut to 2003.

TSR: …OK.

KJ: I’m watching TV, right? Not really paying attention, just flipping through channels late at night. And I come across this talk show, and for a second I swear it’s Manfred up there doing the hosting. I figure it’s gotta be the ayahuasca, but sure enough, the next night it’s the same thing – and I’m fuckin’ certain it’s Manfred behind the desk. Same voice, same cadence, everything. You know the name of the show?

TSR: No, I do not.

KJ: Jimmy Kimmel Live.

TSR: So, you’re saying that beloved late-night television host Jimmy Kimmel is, in fact, a sentient ventriloquist dummy named Manfred.

KJ: Fuckin’-a right, man. Hiding in plain sight, like a Chupacabra.

TSR:

KJ:

TSR:

KJ: You alright, man?

TSR: Yeah, I’m fine, sorry – thought I was having an aneurysm for a second there. How would you say your experience with Manfred impacted your career in the games industry?

KJ: [shrugs] It didn’t, really.

TSR: Well, I guess more broadly, what kind of influences from your formative years shaped your philosophy when it comes to game design?

KJ: Well, my dad’s stories about fighting in Korea really impacted how I went about framing the levels and action in Crater Shock. You want to put the player knee-deep in mud, guts, and shell casings.

TSR: Oh, your father fought in the Korean War?

KJ: Nope. He went there for a bachelor party once, though.

TSR: I see.

KJ: Let me think…I suppose I came up with the idea for Deathmoor after I ate a half-ounce of mushrooms and fell asleep reading Wuthering Heights. Once I had the core idea – you know, haunted British manor, zombies, shotguns, yadda yadda – the rest was easier than eating pudding with your fingers.

TSR: Fascinating. You know, Deathmoor was a lot of people’s first foray into the horror genre, mine included. I know a lot of folks are waiting on word of a sequel…

KJ: Keep hoping, bitch. [snickers] I always wanted to say that.

TSR: So, no confirmation of a sequel, then. Your latest project –

KJ: Of course, the whole genesis of Man-o’-War was a boating trip I took with several other men in the summer of 2008. Those men are all dead.

TSR: I’m sorry?

KJ: Me, too. Look, man, I’d love to talk more, but my massage therapist is coming around pretty soon, and I gotta get lubed up. You know how it is.

TSR: Well, hey, thanks for having me. It was…interesting.

KJ: Sure thing. Come back again sometime.