Bizarrely enough, this isn't me being all unimaginative on you; this is Humphrey Bogart, Private Eye.

The year's 2002. And yes, that's how Bogey looks right now. He still smokes heavily, still drinks a lot, and he's been working as a private eye for quite some time now.
Trouble is, the scene's just too crowded in L.A.; a man can't make ends meet. And the rest of the U.S. is going that way...

So here's Bogey, stepping off a plane in Al Amarja. Come to set up a new business where there's a little less competition. And on the same plane? Squirrel Jones, Briton, proud singer for a 1986 Number 1 single in Germany, unwitting porn star and ecowarrior.

And that guy over there, once Bogey finally got past passport control (they thought he was taking the piss), is God.

God thinks Bogey, well... isn't. Bogey, however, begs to differe, despite the dreams of Aztec temples and angel-killing vomit. Despite the trips to strange otherworlds that burn and horrify the mind.

Despite the orgasm-inducing drug, and the argument with Huggy Bear.

And desite the very, very strange interlude in the mansion...

***

I have no idea what Bogey's provenance was. He believed himself to be Bogey; he has the paperwork to support that view. He may have been a clone, a robot, the original, an alien, the result of a Glamour that went too far, or almost anything else.  Sadly, the campaign - which appeared in no small part to be an Invisibles-inspired trek through identity, the subconscious, and the Secret World - died early on. But I still have a fondness for Bogey, the man who could outstubborn God, and his companion Squirrel, who had sex with, offered coffee too, insulted, and ignored God.

It was a damn fine game, and Bogey's one of my favourite characters.