Andrew Wepski, a graduate from MIT with a Ph.D. in Theoretical Physics, spends most of his days at a top-secret government facility, praying that a lab accident will open an interdimensional rift and he can save the world from alien invaders.

Though Dr. Wepski has had a lifelong long of physics, it wasn’t until he played Half Life in 1998 that he realised his true potential. Jobless and living in his parent’s basement, Wepski installed the popular first-person shooter on his Gateway computer and beat the game in one Mountain Dew-fueled night.

“Science was interesting, yeah, but never this interesting. I thought it was a bunch of guys in labcoats standing around, waiting for test results. Boy did that turn out to be wrong. You see… science is all about accidents. Some good, some bad. It’s the bad ones – say, a routine examination of an anomylous material that splits the fabric of time and space, allowing terrible creatures to run rampant through the test facility and only I can stop them – that really interests me. It’s only a matter of time before it happens at [Eagle Mountain, the research center Wepski works at.] I can’t wait.”

According to a source on the internet, a ‘resonance cascade’ is an “interdimensional rift that has the tendency to be extremely destructive on the dimensions it has torn and may be disruptive to nearby radio communications and electronic devices.” It was invented by the creators of Half Life and has no grounding in real science.

“I’m not sure what he expects,” says Dr. Luke Bransson, Andrew’s coworker. “He cornered me in the break room yesterday and told me that, thanks to a six-week weapons training course in the desert, he could shoot a crab off my head from two-hundred feet away… if he had to. Then he showed me his pistol.” Concerned for his safety, Dr. Bransson reported Andrew’s strange behavior to their supervisor, but so far, no disciplinary action has been taken.

A high-ranking member on the research center’s scientific board agreed to an interview with Hardcasual, but only under if we agreed not to divulge his name. Also, we told him that we’re a nationally-published magazine about physics.

“We’re well aware of Dr. Wepski’s delusional fantasies. For the first four weeks, he wouldn’t take off his HazMat suit. Not even to go to the bathroom. He keeps stealing crowbars from the maintenance department and hoarding them in his desk. Listen… you have no idea how few people have PhDs in theoretical physics. It takes a degree of lunacy. As long as he isn’t eating the samples and calling himself Jesus Christ, he’ll always have a job working for the United States Government.”