Chapter 28, everybody! In which we theorize just why we can't watch Wheatley's hacking attempts and the writer apologizes for the delay—we'll be back to our regularly scheduled program next week, though.

Don't Starve © 2013 Klei Entertainment

Portal © 2007 Valve

She found a softer way across for him, and in short order they were standing in front of the door that led to the template turret.

"You see," he explained, in an attempt to get over his irritation at being coddled. "This turret here acts as the template for the rest of them. The computer checks this one and then checks the others."

As he said it, the computer did just that, scanning the template before requesting a response from a defective turret.

The defective turret responded, and it went flying.

"Okay," Willow noised, nodding. "So how do we get in?"

"Well…I can't really do it with you watching…."

He faltered under her glare.

"It's standard procedure, honest!"

She was still glaring at him.

"I'm not allowed to override any systems with unauthorized personnel watching," he explained. "And technically, you are unauthorized personnel."

"I don't believe you," she said flatly. "We're running for our lives here and you're worried about proper procedure?"

"All right, fine," he noised, waving. "Just—just turn around, okay? It'd make me feel better."

She sighed and turned around.

"Thank you," he said, getting to work.

"Huh."

"What?" Willow asked, looking over her shoulder.

"It's not working," Wilson noised, tapping the sequence again and getting shut out. "He must have changed all the passcodes."

"He can do that?"

"He's the central operating computer, so I'm going to say yes, he can."

"Can't you hack it or something?"

"This'll be my third try—if I fail this time, he'll be alerted and maintenance bots will be flooding our immediate area."

He glanced back to see her shiver—yes, the notion didn't appeal to him either.

"Move," she ordered, pulling him away from the door.

"And what do you think you're—"

She slammed the butt of the portal gun into the window, shattering it.

"Doing," he finished weakly.

She reached in and unlocked the door, pulling it open.

"Ta-da—hacked," she declared.

"I suppose the low-tech approach would work here," he admitted. "Now we just move the template turret—and probably throw it over the railing for good measure."

She did so.

"Template turret missing," the announcer declared. "Switching over to template memory."

"Oh," Wilson noised.

"Well that didn't work," she observed.

"I noticed."

"So now what?"

"I don't know—give me a minute."

She gave him a moment of silence, punctuated by a defective turret yelling "You can't fire me—I quit!" as it flew to its doom.

They looked at each other, realization dawning.

"I've got an idea," they said.