Square-enix , or “Squeenix” as the rabid fanboys lovingly say , is a company I find myself constantly entranced by; peering over their shoulder like a stalker or some worrisome mother carefully examining every move they make to ensure they don’t end up as a hobo due to the B- they received on a history exam from 2nd grade. The difference being that my obsession with the company has spawned from an interest in all the unusual and experimental stuff that comes flooding out their doors. Say what you will about their ever increasing need to become a motion picture studio, Square-enix is still around because they perform more terrifying experiments than a necrophiliac locked in a morgue
But a company cannot stand on experiments alone lest we forget the fatal flaw in Dr. Frankenstein’s new medical science of prosthetics. That’s why Square-enix periodically releases something old school and familiar to soothe the tooth aches of the winy emotionally challenged adults that look towards their past with a form of nostalgia that borders on the edge of Mel Gibson lunacy, more like Edge of Darkness lunacy, har har har. So to appeal to this group which is fast approaching the endangered species list, Square-enix comes out with throwbacks to classic RPGs usually packaged in the shiny new box of a remake (how progressive) or in this case, a Dragon Quest title.
On its surface Dragon Quest 9 is exactly what this niche market of gaming culture is clamoring for. Instead of polished graphics and overly bloated soap opera-esque melodrama the game focuses heavily on simplistic RPG mechanics that follow the dance routine of click attack to kill monster, grind until you level, acquire new skills, navigate menus, repeat, and eat another Oreo you fat RPG sad sack. While this all sounds well and good on paper, what a lot of people seem to forget is that the old method is rarely the best, unless you’re talking about forms of torture. With the modern shift in RPGs leaning towards a focus on active action that involves the player and epic league storytelling, the classic turn based combat and traditional “Knight saves world” plot feels a little lazy. This isn’t to say that there is anything wrong with this direction, but it is a bit limiting.
Dragon Quest 9 begins with the player assuming the role of a guardian angel, wings and all. From the get go you can change the look of your character, although there were no beard options nor a clickable check box to have the characters’ testicles descend and thus dispelling any possibility of playing an emotionally interesting character or any character over the age of 12 for that matter. Being the mature and sophisticated journalist that I am I made the least human looking youngster I could and went off on my grand adventure of slaying the innocent towns folk only to discover this isn’t one of those free to choose your own adventure games. Nope looks like its tree worship for me! Huzzah!
The story of Dragon Quest revolves around feeding a powerful tree happy thoughts in hopes that it won’t start killing you with wind in the same vein as a M. Night fantasy. Throughout the game you assist people with their problems, like removing that nasty growth on top of the monster’s neck. Being a good Samaritan results in prayers being given to you as some kind of voodoo power that the gluttonous tree devours in its ever continuing quest to trump god on the meter of self-absorbed tiddly-wink masters. This is the sappy stuff of classic gaming although if it had been a little wiser and chosen a more Meta approach where it gives you an even vaguer plot structure with insipid goals I think it could have worked much more effectively.
Say what you will about modern games, hell even Final Fantasy 13, but one brilliant revelation that RPG developers have unearthed over the past five years or so is a method of challenging one’s brains and reflexes. Dragon Quest’s simple formula doesn’t really do this and instead showcases one of the biggest problems with older RPGs and that is the illusion of depth. Whenever an old school enthusiast tries to debate the merits of the older game play mechanics they will claim that it was more about strategy than action. Ok, I will admit that turn based strategy does offer a great deal of meditative play, but very few games actually capitalized on it. There is a possibility to offer a compelling multi-layered element of challenge to this tried and true system but few games can accomplish it. Dragon Quest doesn’t even come close.
Instead the core structure revolves around grinding. Kill enough monsters and no enemy will be able to topple you. Feel free to wave your dick at him while you do so and tea bag his corpse in the honor of Master Chief. Buy the next piece of armor and weaponry at the local store to increase you stamina and have an all nighter – err….
The developers do try to spice things up a bit with some wi-fi group play and gorgeous 3D graphics, but these two things only serve to throw you into a suicidal frenzy; haplessly attacking bee hives and polar bears at random hoping for a painful demise. The element of wi-fi allows you to party with local friends but comes at the cost of completely ridding the game of any true or memorable party members. Gone are the days of the campy-fun sidekicks with unique personalities and back stories, now you travel around with mute henchmen who have a creepy level of anonymity circling about them. For all you know that person who helped you defeat the metal slime is a child-molester. If he tells you he likes the size of your sword it’s about time you reach for the power button.
As for the graphics, they are really impressive for a DS title but create the impression that maybe they spent too much time on the presentation and forgot about a few other things. You know, like that whole fun factor category.
All and all these complaints wouldn’t bother me if it wasn’t for the games sloooooooooow pacing. By slooooooow pacing I mean this is analogous to a sloth being carried by a group of snails across a street covered in molasses uphill – during an ice storm. The first hour or so I encountered only one fight, yes one. The rest of the time I was running around towns talking to the static people about topics as interesting as the benefits of fiber for one’s bowel movements or the local farm girl’s recent herpes development. I realize that most of the dialogue was optional and I could have skipped it but I’m a purist, which is another way of saying I suffer from an extreme case of Stockholm syndrome when it comes to “classic” roleplaying.
Despite all of these complaints, I can’t help but enjoy Dragon Quest 9. I said ENJOY, not love. This is a decent game that calls back to a simpler time when things were perhaps too simple in the IQ dipping below 75 sort of way. No, it’s not perfect, but then again it doesn’t need to be. I completely understand why it exists and to be fair its better that games like these continue to be released. Without them I don’t think people would really appreciate how far games have come. Then again, I don’t think anyone really notices at all. If only there was some way to capture their attenti - Hey, look! It's Seth Green!
Showing posts with label video games. Show all posts
Showing posts with label video games. Show all posts
Monday, July 19, 2010
Friday, June 4, 2010
Things Yet to Come.
To say that I am an RPG fanatic is about as appropriate as calling Charles Manson a loony guy; sure its true, but there might be a better adjective somewhere in the unabridged Webster. I love all RPGs, whether they be western, "J", or MMO. Most of my childhood seems to be filled with anti-social memories of me sitting at home curled up in a blanket taking on the adventures of a mute hero.
To honor my devotion/addiction I will be writing about both new and old rpgs that I've played over the years. The focus of these writings will be on the ones that were either so good that they permanently took up residence in the tiny spot of my brain that used to house important stuff, or so bad that they left their mark by scarring my brain tissue. These writings may or may not follow any type of order, but I will try to keep it chronological. Can't make any promises on that though, we'll see what happens as the days pass.
So that's it for now. Before I go, I want to take the time to honor the late and great Dennis Hopper. I realize that his death is old news by now, but last night I got around to watching Blue Velvet to honor his memory. After sitting down and going through the movie again I began to understand just how talented he was and came to the understanding that we really did lose a great actor. For those of you who have never seen Blue Velvet, it gets the official Cactus stamp of approval. Watch at your own risk though, its a very disturbing movie that will have you questioning human behavior in no time. The sick and demented sort of surrealism that is right up my alley.
Until my next blog, keep reading and take the time to check out Dennis Hopper's filmography if you haven't done so before; yes, that includes the Super Mario Brother's movie.
To honor my devotion/addiction I will be writing about both new and old rpgs that I've played over the years. The focus of these writings will be on the ones that were either so good that they permanently took up residence in the tiny spot of my brain that used to house important stuff, or so bad that they left their mark by scarring my brain tissue. These writings may or may not follow any type of order, but I will try to keep it chronological. Can't make any promises on that though, we'll see what happens as the days pass.
So that's it for now. Before I go, I want to take the time to honor the late and great Dennis Hopper. I realize that his death is old news by now, but last night I got around to watching Blue Velvet to honor his memory. After sitting down and going through the movie again I began to understand just how talented he was and came to the understanding that we really did lose a great actor. For those of you who have never seen Blue Velvet, it gets the official Cactus stamp of approval. Watch at your own risk though, its a very disturbing movie that will have you questioning human behavior in no time. The sick and demented sort of surrealism that is right up my alley.
Until my next blog, keep reading and take the time to check out Dennis Hopper's filmography if you haven't done so before; yes, that includes the Super Mario Brother's movie.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Prince of Persia Review
Clearly I spent way too much time in Elementary school drawing pictures of the X-men on my book covers as I seem to have missed the part in History class where Persia was inhabited by white folk who spoke in British accents. Wait a tick! This is Hollywood magic, isn’t it? Oh ho, thought you could pull the wool over my eyes yet again did you greedy corporate film executives? Well I’m on to your tomfoolery!
Hoping to strike oil twice and smother our baby seal-like innocence like some BP prick, Disney has decided to spawn yet another Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Only this time around it takes place in the desert and Captain Jack Sparrow is an aging Doctor Octopus. I am of course referring to last weekend’s box office blunder, The Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time.
For the uneducated, The Prince of Persia is a long running video game franchise, and while this is the kind of movie that brings back painful memories of that dream I had where I was Jody Foster in a room of pinball machines, I nevertheless went into the theaters with my head held high. This was Disney after all, and while Disney has spawned some atrocious things over the years, they have also proven themselves as a remarkably creative company. After all, any company that can take an amusement park ride and translate it into one of the most entertaining and memorable popcorn movies of the last decade can surely provide us with a video game movie adaptation that won’t have me burning out all those childhood memories of playing the game by inserting a sparkler into my ear. Right? Without beating around the bush, let me provide you with an answer. No – erm, maybe.
Saying that this was one of the best video game adaptations of all time isn’t necessarily a point in its favor, but that’s the general conclusion I arrived at. I realize that isn’t a very clear cut answer, and probably not the thing that a person wants to hear when they read a movie review. So I’ll tell you what, seeing as how I view myself as a professional in the same way a rodeo clown might be seen as a professional horse therapist, I’ll go into a bit more depth and try to excavate a more palatable critique.
The movie begins when a nation of ass-hats that might as well be an allegory for most contemporary war hungry titans, gee I wonder who that could be, storms a holy kingdom in an attempt to prevent them from manufacturing weapons for enemy states. Well surprise, surprise, turns out there were no weapons and the whole attack was issued to seize control of some sacred dagger that can turn back time. The perpetrator was Sir Ben Kingsley, and if you think I just spoiled the movie by revealing to you that Ben Kingsley was the antagonist then let me take this time to also spoil the fact that starting into the sun for extended periods may cause complications during future movie viewings. So after the invasion takes place Ben Kingsley’s brother, who is king, gets a nasty rash from his Pajamas and Jake Gyllenhaal, the street rat prince, has the blame placed squarely on his shoulders. Rather than put him on trial, the castle guards get the crafty idea of dropping a jet turbine on ol’ Jake, but seeing as how he seemingly survived that twice now they instead try to cut him down on the spot. Jake escapes, takes the princess of the castle with him, and the two embark on a quest to right what is wrong and stop the nefarious plot. Stop me if you’ve heard this one before.
Yes, we are looking at a pretty typical adventure movie, but that isn’t all bad. Most teachers will tell English students that the heart and soul of writing lies in the characters. If the audience can connect and feel compassion for the characters and their actions then congratulations, you have an engaging story. Sadly the characters are about as fresh and interesting as a bloated corpse with a television set on its back displaying Ben Stein detailing how the murder occurred.
The protagonist is played by Jake Gyllenhaal whom I haven’t seen in a while; no doubt coming back to the big screen to contend with the likes of the Gyllenhaal family Skeksis swamp hag, you know, the thing that was in The Dark Knight? I think it might be their pet or something. And to be fair, Jake gives a decent enough performance considering what he is being offered here. There is some sincerity to his deliverance and whenever possible I noticed a sliver of cleverness poking out of his chiseled pecks, but when you go over the whole thing with a fine toothed comb you notice that just like a prostitute’s soul, the character is completely nonexistent and that protrusion is just an erect nipple. He’s eye candy for the ladies to flick their bean to and fills the shoes of the young and daring prince rather well I must say.
Then there’s the female support who might as well be a cardboard cutout standing in a Suncoast video store. Admittedly she is round where it counts, if you catch my perverted drift; in fact, since I can’t remember her character’s name or her real life name, let’s just call her Tits. So Tits is some holy woman who is well trained in the protection of sacred artifacts, and by well trained I mean she has no combat or mystical techniques whatsoever and easily bends over for insertion once someone takes possession of her boon. That’s not all, she is also an isolated princess with no understanding of the outside world, hurray! I was starting to care about her. This archetype of the naive princess can be a lot of fun if you’re smart, unlike the screenwriter for this movie, but here it just comes off as boring and retarded. I half expected a scene with her staring into a pond trying to figure out why the palace servants would put water out in the middle of the desert. And of course, despite her absolute hatred of Jake Gyllenhaal she has a complete character reversal halfway through the movie and begins to fall for the lug; umm, consistency? People will correct me and try to tell me that this was some destined love thing based on future events of the movie, but I don’t buy it. Princess Tits goes from a hormonally PMS raging Velociraptor with sand up its clam to a swooning sleepy-eyed stereotype all because her kidnapper put his hand on hers. Never heard of Stockholm syndrome being used as an aphrodisiac before, but now that it’s on the table I think I’ll go ahead with my plot to kidnap Rihanna.
So with bland characters and an uninteresting plot the only thing left to fall back on is the action and set pieces, and surprisingly this is where the movie excels. Given the fact that this is a Disney movie, the budget definitely shows. The special effects are spectacular and what are most impressive are the locations and set pieces. Unlike a lot of movies these days that rely on CGing the whole damn thing, a lot of the sets have an authenticity to them. Most were filmed on location in beautiful desert vistas while others look like studio mock-ups that were hand crafted by master set designers. This actually wins the movie a few bonus points although to be fair it is still just sand and mountains most of the time giving the movie little color outside various shades of brown. This sort of color selection reminds me a lot of current generation video games and seeing as how this is based on the more recent Prince of Persia games this may in fact be a subtle homage. Clever. Oh wait, no; “horseshit” is what I meant to say.
Also, the movie pays respect to the video game by featuring several “free-running” scenes where the characters jump from roof to roof, scaffold to scaffold, silliness to kookiness, et cetera. In case you readers have fallen asleep the past few years, that real life sport of free running (designed by people in desperate need to collect on life insurance I guess) has got its fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of all platform action titles. People seem to forget that this sort of game play has actually existed as far back as pitfall and the original Prince of Persia titles in the ‘80s. For those of us who know we’ll just keep our mouths shut and let the kiddies continue to believe that glittering vampires are a good idea. Thankfully, these moments of the movie do well to pump the movie with some much needed excitement and action.
On a craftsmen’s level the movie holds up well outside of the glaring editing mistakes. This is most apparent in the early portions of the movie. Whoever was editing this must have been busy staring at his hand the whole time he was cutting between scenes. To say its jarring is like saying Uwe Bowl is a bad director, it’s damn obvious and defies logic as it seems like it would require a specific kind of talent or skill to be this bad.
On a final note, one thing that does beg to be mentioned is the time reverting element of the movie. Time traveling plots are always shaky as it eliminates any sort of tension that might exist in the movie. What’s the harm in someone dying when you can just go back, prevent said expiration and bonk the baddy over the head for being a dick? Luckily that is somewhat dispelled in this movie with the convenient plot device of fuel for the mystical time traveling dagger. Rather than have an unlimited supply of DeLorean juice, the dagger requires very specific sand which is in limited supply. As a result time traveling can only occur in short bursts and only happens maybe 4 times throughout the entirety of the movie. Here I was worrying that they’d be jumping back and forth as fast as a sugar-buzzed 5 year old with the taco shits trying to find the one working bathroom stall out of 100.
So again, returning to my original thoughts on the movie let me sum it up like this. Meh. The movie isn’t bad, it’s not great, it’s not really anything. By the time I left the theaters I was sure I had seen one of the best video game movies of all time, but being the best video game movie is a lot like being the best Sonic the Hedgehog game of the past decade: it’s not a particularly fascinating or challenging accomplishment, nobody cares, and the only thing it does is reminds people of the older source material that they could be spending their free time with. Still, the movie succeeds at being a big budget summer action flick and for that I can’t speak too harshly of it. But not to worry, any damage done by this movie can be erased with a magical time altering device called a cinder block which can be powered whenever I slam my face into it.
Hoping to strike oil twice and smother our baby seal-like innocence like some BP prick, Disney has decided to spawn yet another Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Only this time around it takes place in the desert and Captain Jack Sparrow is an aging Doctor Octopus. I am of course referring to last weekend’s box office blunder, The Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time.
For the uneducated, The Prince of Persia is a long running video game franchise, and while this is the kind of movie that brings back painful memories of that dream I had where I was Jody Foster in a room of pinball machines, I nevertheless went into the theaters with my head held high. This was Disney after all, and while Disney has spawned some atrocious things over the years, they have also proven themselves as a remarkably creative company. After all, any company that can take an amusement park ride and translate it into one of the most entertaining and memorable popcorn movies of the last decade can surely provide us with a video game movie adaptation that won’t have me burning out all those childhood memories of playing the game by inserting a sparkler into my ear. Right? Without beating around the bush, let me provide you with an answer. No – erm, maybe.
Saying that this was one of the best video game adaptations of all time isn’t necessarily a point in its favor, but that’s the general conclusion I arrived at. I realize that isn’t a very clear cut answer, and probably not the thing that a person wants to hear when they read a movie review. So I’ll tell you what, seeing as how I view myself as a professional in the same way a rodeo clown might be seen as a professional horse therapist, I’ll go into a bit more depth and try to excavate a more palatable critique.
The movie begins when a nation of ass-hats that might as well be an allegory for most contemporary war hungry titans, gee I wonder who that could be, storms a holy kingdom in an attempt to prevent them from manufacturing weapons for enemy states. Well surprise, surprise, turns out there were no weapons and the whole attack was issued to seize control of some sacred dagger that can turn back time. The perpetrator was Sir Ben Kingsley, and if you think I just spoiled the movie by revealing to you that Ben Kingsley was the antagonist then let me take this time to also spoil the fact that starting into the sun for extended periods may cause complications during future movie viewings. So after the invasion takes place Ben Kingsley’s brother, who is king, gets a nasty rash from his Pajamas and Jake Gyllenhaal, the street rat prince, has the blame placed squarely on his shoulders. Rather than put him on trial, the castle guards get the crafty idea of dropping a jet turbine on ol’ Jake, but seeing as how he seemingly survived that twice now they instead try to cut him down on the spot. Jake escapes, takes the princess of the castle with him, and the two embark on a quest to right what is wrong and stop the nefarious plot. Stop me if you’ve heard this one before.
Yes, we are looking at a pretty typical adventure movie, but that isn’t all bad. Most teachers will tell English students that the heart and soul of writing lies in the characters. If the audience can connect and feel compassion for the characters and their actions then congratulations, you have an engaging story. Sadly the characters are about as fresh and interesting as a bloated corpse with a television set on its back displaying Ben Stein detailing how the murder occurred.
The protagonist is played by Jake Gyllenhaal whom I haven’t seen in a while; no doubt coming back to the big screen to contend with the likes of the Gyllenhaal family Skeksis swamp hag, you know, the thing that was in The Dark Knight? I think it might be their pet or something. And to be fair, Jake gives a decent enough performance considering what he is being offered here. There is some sincerity to his deliverance and whenever possible I noticed a sliver of cleverness poking out of his chiseled pecks, but when you go over the whole thing with a fine toothed comb you notice that just like a prostitute’s soul, the character is completely nonexistent and that protrusion is just an erect nipple. He’s eye candy for the ladies to flick their bean to and fills the shoes of the young and daring prince rather well I must say.
Then there’s the female support who might as well be a cardboard cutout standing in a Suncoast video store. Admittedly she is round where it counts, if you catch my perverted drift; in fact, since I can’t remember her character’s name or her real life name, let’s just call her Tits. So Tits is some holy woman who is well trained in the protection of sacred artifacts, and by well trained I mean she has no combat or mystical techniques whatsoever and easily bends over for insertion once someone takes possession of her boon. That’s not all, she is also an isolated princess with no understanding of the outside world, hurray! I was starting to care about her. This archetype of the naive princess can be a lot of fun if you’re smart, unlike the screenwriter for this movie, but here it just comes off as boring and retarded. I half expected a scene with her staring into a pond trying to figure out why the palace servants would put water out in the middle of the desert. And of course, despite her absolute hatred of Jake Gyllenhaal she has a complete character reversal halfway through the movie and begins to fall for the lug; umm, consistency? People will correct me and try to tell me that this was some destined love thing based on future events of the movie, but I don’t buy it. Princess Tits goes from a hormonally PMS raging Velociraptor with sand up its clam to a swooning sleepy-eyed stereotype all because her kidnapper put his hand on hers. Never heard of Stockholm syndrome being used as an aphrodisiac before, but now that it’s on the table I think I’ll go ahead with my plot to kidnap Rihanna.
So with bland characters and an uninteresting plot the only thing left to fall back on is the action and set pieces, and surprisingly this is where the movie excels. Given the fact that this is a Disney movie, the budget definitely shows. The special effects are spectacular and what are most impressive are the locations and set pieces. Unlike a lot of movies these days that rely on CGing the whole damn thing, a lot of the sets have an authenticity to them. Most were filmed on location in beautiful desert vistas while others look like studio mock-ups that were hand crafted by master set designers. This actually wins the movie a few bonus points although to be fair it is still just sand and mountains most of the time giving the movie little color outside various shades of brown. This sort of color selection reminds me a lot of current generation video games and seeing as how this is based on the more recent Prince of Persia games this may in fact be a subtle homage. Clever. Oh wait, no; “horseshit” is what I meant to say.
Also, the movie pays respect to the video game by featuring several “free-running” scenes where the characters jump from roof to roof, scaffold to scaffold, silliness to kookiness, et cetera. In case you readers have fallen asleep the past few years, that real life sport of free running (designed by people in desperate need to collect on life insurance I guess) has got its fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of all platform action titles. People seem to forget that this sort of game play has actually existed as far back as pitfall and the original Prince of Persia titles in the ‘80s. For those of us who know we’ll just keep our mouths shut and let the kiddies continue to believe that glittering vampires are a good idea. Thankfully, these moments of the movie do well to pump the movie with some much needed excitement and action.
On a craftsmen’s level the movie holds up well outside of the glaring editing mistakes. This is most apparent in the early portions of the movie. Whoever was editing this must have been busy staring at his hand the whole time he was cutting between scenes. To say its jarring is like saying Uwe Bowl is a bad director, it’s damn obvious and defies logic as it seems like it would require a specific kind of talent or skill to be this bad.
On a final note, one thing that does beg to be mentioned is the time reverting element of the movie. Time traveling plots are always shaky as it eliminates any sort of tension that might exist in the movie. What’s the harm in someone dying when you can just go back, prevent said expiration and bonk the baddy over the head for being a dick? Luckily that is somewhat dispelled in this movie with the convenient plot device of fuel for the mystical time traveling dagger. Rather than have an unlimited supply of DeLorean juice, the dagger requires very specific sand which is in limited supply. As a result time traveling can only occur in short bursts and only happens maybe 4 times throughout the entirety of the movie. Here I was worrying that they’d be jumping back and forth as fast as a sugar-buzzed 5 year old with the taco shits trying to find the one working bathroom stall out of 100.
So again, returning to my original thoughts on the movie let me sum it up like this. Meh. The movie isn’t bad, it’s not great, it’s not really anything. By the time I left the theaters I was sure I had seen one of the best video game movies of all time, but being the best video game movie is a lot like being the best Sonic the Hedgehog game of the past decade: it’s not a particularly fascinating or challenging accomplishment, nobody cares, and the only thing it does is reminds people of the older source material that they could be spending their free time with. Still, the movie succeeds at being a big budget summer action flick and for that I can’t speak too harshly of it. But not to worry, any damage done by this movie can be erased with a magical time altering device called a cinder block which can be powered whenever I slam my face into it.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Late Intro
The coconut crab that nests on top of my head keeping my eyelids pried open has recently started nibbling at my brain. Since I enjoy living a bit too much I removed the cheeky bastard and threw him into a pot for dinner, but now I am having a difficult time remaining conscious. Several variant methods to stay awake were employed, but none have the same effectiveness as a giant head crab, go figure.
Since I am too tired to write anything witty tonight I am going to keep this one brief. In fact, don’t expect the same Alfred Lord Tennyson length blogs like yesterday during the weekdays; in fact, don’t expect me to write anything of that length ever again. A much better approach (I think) would be to segment my long articles into smaller portions and serve them in tiny bite sized meals since I assume most of you are Americans and therefore fat. Besides, it takes too much effort to be creative. Unlike some people out there I work for a living, and no, I would not count gold farming in MMOs as work as it sits nestled snuggly in the pyramid of importance next to a dietitian telling a fat kid that the deep fried pork intestine diet is the only way they’ll avoid that amputation.
Now I couldn’t help but notice my first two posts had all the cordiality of a drunken frat boy who breaks the ice with women using farts followed by the inquiry of tit ogling. Not wanting to tarnish my brand name I thought it would be appropriate to spend this short writing period giving a proper introduction of myself. Afterwards we can get down and deep with the dirty stuff - if that sort of thing gets your goat - which, I hope it does.
I am Feudal Cactus, clearly not the name given to me by my parents much to my dismay, but an internet moniker I chose for myself for no particular reason, but if you want something with a bit more juice to it I’m sure I can conjure up something to your liking. Follow these instructions: grab a cheese grater, grate your neighbor’s cat into a fine powder, snort cat powder, wait for mystical walrus in purple tunic to appear at your doorstep, and buy his encyclopedias. I’m listed in there somewhere, probably in the E-G book although I may also have a listing in the C-D tome. Honestly, you should just buy them all as that walrus is a keen individual who’s trying to send his kid to college. So if you like children (but not in a creepy van driving candy distributing sort of way), then help the walrus out, otherwise give Chris Hanson a visit and jump off a bridge.
Let’s continue.
I enjoy writing, drawing, taking long walks across zombie infested plague lands, and insulting the very nerd culture that I have been spawned from thanks to a strange masochistic driving force that compels me to do so. So you can look forward to all sorts of cynical ramblings in the future which I hope will be posted on a daily basis, because let’s be honest with ourselves, there simply isn’t enough of this on the internet as it is.
Tomorrow I will be posting the first part of a blog about comic book cross-over events; that or a video clip of a man getting his scrotum bitten off by a dog. Either way it will be informative.
Since I am too tired to write anything witty tonight I am going to keep this one brief. In fact, don’t expect the same Alfred Lord Tennyson length blogs like yesterday during the weekdays; in fact, don’t expect me to write anything of that length ever again. A much better approach (I think) would be to segment my long articles into smaller portions and serve them in tiny bite sized meals since I assume most of you are Americans and therefore fat. Besides, it takes too much effort to be creative. Unlike some people out there I work for a living, and no, I would not count gold farming in MMOs as work as it sits nestled snuggly in the pyramid of importance next to a dietitian telling a fat kid that the deep fried pork intestine diet is the only way they’ll avoid that amputation.
Now I couldn’t help but notice my first two posts had all the cordiality of a drunken frat boy who breaks the ice with women using farts followed by the inquiry of tit ogling. Not wanting to tarnish my brand name I thought it would be appropriate to spend this short writing period giving a proper introduction of myself. Afterwards we can get down and deep with the dirty stuff - if that sort of thing gets your goat - which, I hope it does.
I am Feudal Cactus, clearly not the name given to me by my parents much to my dismay, but an internet moniker I chose for myself for no particular reason, but if you want something with a bit more juice to it I’m sure I can conjure up something to your liking. Follow these instructions: grab a cheese grater, grate your neighbor’s cat into a fine powder, snort cat powder, wait for mystical walrus in purple tunic to appear at your doorstep, and buy his encyclopedias. I’m listed in there somewhere, probably in the E-G book although I may also have a listing in the C-D tome. Honestly, you should just buy them all as that walrus is a keen individual who’s trying to send his kid to college. So if you like children (but not in a creepy van driving candy distributing sort of way), then help the walrus out, otherwise give Chris Hanson a visit and jump off a bridge.
Let’s continue.
I enjoy writing, drawing, taking long walks across zombie infested plague lands, and insulting the very nerd culture that I have been spawned from thanks to a strange masochistic driving force that compels me to do so. So you can look forward to all sorts of cynical ramblings in the future which I hope will be posted on a daily basis, because let’s be honest with ourselves, there simply isn’t enough of this on the internet as it is.
Tomorrow I will be posting the first part of a blog about comic book cross-over events; that or a video clip of a man getting his scrotum bitten off by a dog. Either way it will be informative.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Monitors and Eyes
Looking around I can’t help but realize that we live in an unusual social epoch where playing video games, reading comics, and keeping one’s virginity intact are considered noteworthy character traits. Alright, maybe not the virginity thing, but being a nerd has never been better. Carrying around enough movie knowledge to fill several grain silos is like toting around an enormous golden calf above your head; something worthy of worship by all the other acne scarred mountain dew drinking fuck-heads who are willing to throw away whatever pagan beliefs they hold for the promise of more Pop-tarts and Pokemans.
Sadly, I can’t harp on these nerds too much for I myself am one of them. Having a rather robust comic, video game, and movie collection has netted me a seat of power as one of the “populars”. Ha! No more standing in the corner of social gatherings talking to my imaginary unicorn, Herbert, about my video game achievements. Now people can talk to me online via message boards and buy into all my lies! Life is grand.
The only thing I don’t really care for with this whole popularity thing is the upkeep. In order to maintain moxy it seems like we are all being measured against some constantly changing standards of excellence that none of us can see or predict. One minute you’re on top of the world with your Spider-man comics only to discover that some ass biting twit has discovered that Geoff johns Green Lantern is the new golden elixir that will cure aids and turn Bill O’Reilly’s words into a magical bucket of rainbows sweetly pouring into your ears. The constant flux of pressure being applied to my wallet would be nearly enough to lay me low if it weren’t for the no girl thing and therefore having the disposable income to continue my trek towards being the supreme nerd ruler of all time.
One of my first pressured upgrades I experienced occurred several years ago. While still in college I began to realize that I was getting rather good at multi-tasking. While playing WoW (and for the uneducated sots who know nothing of the joys of pwning newbs and grinding monotonous quests all day long, that’s World of Warcraft) I had this strange feeling like I could be doing more with my life; no, not studying, have you even been paying attention? I mean I could be playing a game and looking at LOL cats pictures simultaneously. I tried, but it was dreadful to say the least. Playing a game on half a tube monitor squinting my eyes to make out some sort of cheeseburger joke was wearing me thin. So it was decided by the council of elders to upgrade to a dual monitor setup.
$250 later I was the fat American social outcast owner of a flat panel monitor to compliment both my crummy tube monitor and my gargantuan nerd tallywacker (yes, we nerds have been known to possess such things). All seemed well, but like your first experience with petting a badger, the soft and cuddly sensation quickly turns to violent agony as you awaken to find yourself in a world of sharp savage scrotum torn pain. For whatever reason which will remain a COMPLETE mystery to me, my eyes felt rather strained *sarcasm*. After visiting an eye glass store and getting absolutely zero help from the hot secretary/librarian woman at the counter whom I suspect was too busy sorting out her Dewey decimals, I decided to simply shrug it off and take it like the man I was. The gamble paid off. The massive amounts of testosterone pumping through my veins was enough to send that pussy red eye business packing and all was well in my nerdy world.
Until recently….
Seeing as how it is 2010 I up and decided that it would be an embarrassment to my nerd status to have a monitor the size of an air conditioning unit. So the garish box left like so many hookers with a visit to the local dump to dispose of any evidence they had existed in my home. To take its place was an awe inspiring 24” widescreen, flat panel, HD, progressive scan, DVI input, reach around model. With this baby I was able to finally play my Xbox console in the HD format it was meant for. No longer would women point and laugh at how small my text was. Now I had godly text, text the size of Gregg Valentino’s arm, displayed on pixels as small as Gregg Valentino’s steroid shriveled wang. All seemed well until my eyes turned about as red as a cooked lobster walking in on his office workers pulling a train on his wife (ok, I’ll admit, that one was forced). Since this had happened before I didn’t bother concerning myself with it, but a month had passed and things were progressing as well as they would be for a 120 year old Hitler strapped to a chair in the middle of a holocaust survival group while he gives a speech about his new line of stove top ovens.
Now I know what you’re thinking, “Cactus, how do you open a stubborn jar of sauerkraut?” Well, I’m sorry, but I’m in the middle of a rant right now and I can’t help you. To which you reply, “Oh, well I have a second question. Why didn’t you just cut back on your computer/gaming usage?” Good question, a question that had run across my mind several times but I was desperately trying to see Tali Zorah naked at the time and I wasn’t going to give up without the ol’ college try (btw, FUCK YOU Bioware).
Two months passed and things were getting worse. I was beginning to feel concerned for my well being; after all, if this red eye business kept up I may never have been able to read another comic book or play another game ever again. Something had to be done. So like most of the worlds’ problem this particular dilemma was solved rather easily with some effort and ingenuity, meaning my mom forced me to see a doctor. The doctor prescribed some topical ointment to my eyes which was a thick gelatinous substance which blinded me for a good 30 minutes, and by Odin’s eye patch I was healed and my parent’s home was freed from the scourge of several low lying vases and lamps.
I walk away from this experience healed and knowing two things: always take things in moderation and remember to carry a walking stick around if you happen to be an Asian prostitute after a night of bukakke.
Sadly, I can’t harp on these nerds too much for I myself am one of them. Having a rather robust comic, video game, and movie collection has netted me a seat of power as one of the “populars”. Ha! No more standing in the corner of social gatherings talking to my imaginary unicorn, Herbert, about my video game achievements. Now people can talk to me online via message boards and buy into all my lies! Life is grand.
The only thing I don’t really care for with this whole popularity thing is the upkeep. In order to maintain moxy it seems like we are all being measured against some constantly changing standards of excellence that none of us can see or predict. One minute you’re on top of the world with your Spider-man comics only to discover that some ass biting twit has discovered that Geoff johns Green Lantern is the new golden elixir that will cure aids and turn Bill O’Reilly’s words into a magical bucket of rainbows sweetly pouring into your ears. The constant flux of pressure being applied to my wallet would be nearly enough to lay me low if it weren’t for the no girl thing and therefore having the disposable income to continue my trek towards being the supreme nerd ruler of all time.
One of my first pressured upgrades I experienced occurred several years ago. While still in college I began to realize that I was getting rather good at multi-tasking. While playing WoW (and for the uneducated sots who know nothing of the joys of pwning newbs and grinding monotonous quests all day long, that’s World of Warcraft) I had this strange feeling like I could be doing more with my life; no, not studying, have you even been paying attention? I mean I could be playing a game and looking at LOL cats pictures simultaneously. I tried, but it was dreadful to say the least. Playing a game on half a tube monitor squinting my eyes to make out some sort of cheeseburger joke was wearing me thin. So it was decided by the council of elders to upgrade to a dual monitor setup.
$250 later I was the fat American social outcast owner of a flat panel monitor to compliment both my crummy tube monitor and my gargantuan nerd tallywacker (yes, we nerds have been known to possess such things). All seemed well, but like your first experience with petting a badger, the soft and cuddly sensation quickly turns to violent agony as you awaken to find yourself in a world of sharp savage scrotum torn pain. For whatever reason which will remain a COMPLETE mystery to me, my eyes felt rather strained *sarcasm*. After visiting an eye glass store and getting absolutely zero help from the hot secretary/librarian woman at the counter whom I suspect was too busy sorting out her Dewey decimals, I decided to simply shrug it off and take it like the man I was. The gamble paid off. The massive amounts of testosterone pumping through my veins was enough to send that pussy red eye business packing and all was well in my nerdy world.
Until recently….
Seeing as how it is 2010 I up and decided that it would be an embarrassment to my nerd status to have a monitor the size of an air conditioning unit. So the garish box left like so many hookers with a visit to the local dump to dispose of any evidence they had existed in my home. To take its place was an awe inspiring 24” widescreen, flat panel, HD, progressive scan, DVI input, reach around model. With this baby I was able to finally play my Xbox console in the HD format it was meant for. No longer would women point and laugh at how small my text was. Now I had godly text, text the size of Gregg Valentino’s arm, displayed on pixels as small as Gregg Valentino’s steroid shriveled wang. All seemed well until my eyes turned about as red as a cooked lobster walking in on his office workers pulling a train on his wife (ok, I’ll admit, that one was forced). Since this had happened before I didn’t bother concerning myself with it, but a month had passed and things were progressing as well as they would be for a 120 year old Hitler strapped to a chair in the middle of a holocaust survival group while he gives a speech about his new line of stove top ovens.
Now I know what you’re thinking, “Cactus, how do you open a stubborn jar of sauerkraut?” Well, I’m sorry, but I’m in the middle of a rant right now and I can’t help you. To which you reply, “Oh, well I have a second question. Why didn’t you just cut back on your computer/gaming usage?” Good question, a question that had run across my mind several times but I was desperately trying to see Tali Zorah naked at the time and I wasn’t going to give up without the ol’ college try (btw, FUCK YOU Bioware).
Two months passed and things were getting worse. I was beginning to feel concerned for my well being; after all, if this red eye business kept up I may never have been able to read another comic book or play another game ever again. Something had to be done. So like most of the worlds’ problem this particular dilemma was solved rather easily with some effort and ingenuity, meaning my mom forced me to see a doctor. The doctor prescribed some topical ointment to my eyes which was a thick gelatinous substance which blinded me for a good 30 minutes, and by Odin’s eye patch I was healed and my parent’s home was freed from the scourge of several low lying vases and lamps.
I walk away from this experience healed and knowing two things: always take things in moderation and remember to carry a walking stick around if you happen to be an Asian prostitute after a night of bukakke.
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