Friday, June 30, 2006

This has absolutely nothing to do with the project. Nothing at all. It does, however, describe quite a few people that I've had the misfortune of knowing, along with every emo kid on myspace and all goths in existance. Since, dear readers, the only reason I can think that you keep up with this project is because you derive some twisted enjoyment from my bitter ramblings, I thought you might enjoy it too (clickinate for large version).

I think that's going to be my new wallpaper.

Thursday, June 29, 2006

Ballblazer

I'm being lazy with this post. Actually, it's less being lazy and more complete ant total apathy. With that in mind, I'm going to use the following commentary, ripped shamelessly and absolutely verbatum from Demonbaby just because it's funny as hell and I don't feel like making something up tonight.
Me: Stuuuupid Americans. Mother Russia crush you with iron fish!
SmugGamerNerd1: Ha! It's iron FIST you foreign idiot!
Me: You are puny little America faggot. I smash you with mighty fish. I kill you and your sissy face.
SmugGamerNerd2: Is that why you're in LAST PLACE?? HA!
SmugGamerNerd3: Ha ha, oh man, this guy is a TARD!
Me:I am much of the winner, little anus boys. You play many little videogame and never to touch woman. In my country, I make love to hundred woman. Two woman is touching my pennis right now, sweaty boy.
SmugGamerNerd2: Yeah, right! Maybe if you tried shutting up you wouldn't be getting your ass kicked so bad, fag!
Me: It is you who have ass kicked, puny America faggot. In my country, I touch the naked vagina and you play little games. You should eat of my cock, smelly ballbag man!
SmugGamerNerd3: Dude, shut the fuck up, we're playing a game here!
Me: I put my fish in your rear hole, stinky boys! Victory for motherland!
SmugGamerNerd1: What the fuck? Do you not understand English? You're LOSING douchebag!
SmugGamerNerd2: Yeah, and your country sucks anyway! Russia is like poor and stuff!
Me: Mother Russia make a giant shit on puny America! You are eating of cock, little scrotum boy! In my country, I touch many more of vagina than you! Vagina of Russia woman very wet and with much smell! Smell is like salty clam! You will never know! You are worthless fuckermother with no vagina touching! In my country -
SmugGamerNerd3: SHUT UP!! You're ruining the game!
Me: Russia not to be silence! We destroy you country little puny faggot boy!
SmugGamerNerd2: Ha! We could kick your stupid country's ass! We have like more nuclear bombs than you have people!
SmugGamerNerd3: Guuuys, honestly, stop, this is so annoying!
SmugGamerNerd1: Fuck off noob, you're talking just as much as them!
SmugGamerNerd3: Fuck you man, this is fucking bullshit!
Me: FREEDOM FOR MOTHERLAND! DEATH TO AMERICAN!!
SmugGamerNerd2: SHUT UP!!!
Me: I PISS ON YOUR MUSTACHE!!!!!
SmugGamerNerd3: FUUUCK YOOUUU!!!!
Me: MY COCK IN YOUR FATHER!!!!!!
------------------------------

Besides, how much can you realistically say about a glorified game of pong?

Bakushou!! Ai no Gekijou I - III

Waaay back when, I went through a period where I played sims a lot. This was also the period of my life where I was doing a cubic metric shitload of drugs. I do not believe these two things to be a coincidence. I played these sim games for about four months, at which point several of my very good friends beat the everloving shit out of me and reminded me that I do, in fact, have testicles. Giant, hairy, coconut sized testicles. At that point they smelled faintly of garlic and disuse, but I'm sure that's a lot more than you wanted to know.
Bakushou!! Ai no Gekijou I - III is a series of sim games where your participation is limited to A) pressing start, B) choosing random parents for the unfortunate progeny that the game revolves around, and C) spending the next 15 minutes realizing that you could have been using that time to do something fun. Like furtively masturbating to 70's porn. Or chewing off your own fingers.
From what I can gather using my impressive ability to opinions directly out of my ass (where no Japanese fingers will ever reach, that you very much), the game follows your unfortunate progeny, Sum Gie, through a series of events that range from the dull to the surreal, to the dully surreal. You get such impressive scenes as Sum Gie in bed:
Sum Gie chatting up a Japanese / Toad hybrid:
Sum Gie naked in school:
and Moses himself:
Then, for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you're given a chance to play Space invaders.
Yea, I didn't see that one coming either. Now Space Invaders has a very special place in my heart, right next to the shrapnel, and I felt all warm and fuzzy for all of four seconds. Till I remember the gay bathtub scene.
I'm not a prejudiced man. I'm not a violent man. I'm a nice guy, despite what the courts and my ex girlfriends say. But games like this get under my skin. So the next time you see a guy and he isn't shouting profanities at the first random Japanese guy he's seen, then you can rest assured that it's not me.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Bakushou! Star Monomane Shitennou

So the Japanese apparently have a thing over there called "Kancho", which involves randomly attempting to ram your fingers into someone's ass. See Exhibit A:

This suprises me about as much as the news that Rosie O'Donnell hates cock. If you've kept up with this project for more than 5 minutes or so, that you too, are monumentally unsuprised by anything the Japanese do at this point. Somehow, though, it still took me a good 15 minutes of playing this game before I managed to stop asking my wallpaper what the fuck was going on.
The title screen looks innocent enough, giving you no preparation for the wave of strangeness that's about to come. Immediately after the title screen goes away, a group of yakuza clowns begin to dance across the screen, all in front of a line of happy smiling trees. See Exhibit B:
I'm watching this with a vague form of intolerant incredulity, raising my glass for a long drink of Russian xanax in a Stoli bottle. Suddenly the dancing yakuza clowns are replaced by digital bobble-head dolls. I love the Japanese. I've got plenty of reasons to drink, and they just keep giving me more.
Striving gallantly ahead, firm in my resolve to bring you the best in reporting, I launch into the game proper. Never mind that only 5 other people in the world would claim to have played this. Never mind that I don't speak a word of Japanese. Nevermind that no one cares. None of you care. You read this and laugh at my pain. All of yo....*ahem* Sorry. The game. Yes.
Apparently the yakuza clowns have something to do with it. It's a Japanese kids game, so my guess it that they're running around cutting off fingers and ramming them into peoples assholes. While laughing. With this in mind, I cover my asshole and play for a little longer. Not sure what I pressed, but I get to a part where the killer yakuza clown is onstage. And a little anti-man in green shorts is climbing onstage.
I decided to quit while I was ahead.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Baken Hisshou Gaku - Gate In

With the original Nintendo being targeted at the younger teen market, I have to wonder about the wisdom of releasing a game focused on betting on horse races. Then again, this is Japan we're talking about. I suppose I should be glad that it's not a game where you cover yourself in feces and have to dance the golden shower dance to beat the big boss, who happens to be dressed in a schoolgirl uniform.

Maybe that was the plan for the sequel.

Bad Street Brawler

Imagine, if you will, a world where Richard Simmons were god. Now, imagine a world where Richard Simmons were god and the Earth had not destroyed itself in a nuclear fireball in self defense. This would be a world of unimaginable horrors, of full body suits showing all your organs being mandentory date wear. The afro would be in style, and Bad Street Brawler would be cool. Excuse me for a moment. I need a drink before we get this started.
Bad Street Brawler makes Bad Dudes look like Mortal Kombat and the teletubbies look like a bunch of hairy-chested, beer-swilling truckers. Right off the bat this game starts sucking any and all virility out of you - plastered right on the title screen is our hero, one Duke Davis. Duke Davis, unlike Duke Nukem (who doesn't have time to bleed), does have time inbetween his ongoing meth addiction and day job as a glory hole boy to head down to the streets and fight crime. At least, that's what he would be doing if fighting crime involved twitching spastically and looking like he might enjoy getting slapped in the face with a salami.
Considering all this, it's probably a good thing that Duke's world doesn't contain anything really dangerous. He'd be in trouble if he ran up against something like ninjas. Or 4 year olds with cerebral palsey. Instead, Duke lives in a city where the criminal element consists of circus midgets and banana-throwing gorillas, and the good guys wear yellow spandex. Then, just in case you think the above statement is A-OK, once you've been punching and twitching at the bad street midgets for awhile, along comes a midget flasher. He opens his coat, and out flies a little heart on wings.
Believe me, you don't know how much I wish I were making this up. Once you've twiched enough and beaten the level boss monkey, you head back behind the building to dispose of your loot. This consists of tossing bowling balls on chains into a dumpster. Somewhat disturbingly, this is an accurate premonition of what you'll be doing if you ever actually lay money down for this camel's hairball of a game.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

You never call anymore

I know, I know, updates have been few lately. Part of it's the new job. Lots to learn, but I'm breaking the grand a paycheck mark on a regular basis now, and doing it how? I'll tell you how, since you asked, and I know you did. I help make sure people can watch porn when they want to. You don't get that sense of job satisfaction doing those other things like raising money for blind children or something. I help to ensure that the constant stream of pornography pouring into homes across America remains uninterrupted. It's kind of like being a priest, only better paid and no alter boys. Another thing keeping me from updates is a deep and sincere unwillingness to go back and play the game that's next on deck, "Bad Street Brawler". It's ... Challenging. Not challenging as in the game itself is difficult, but challenging like working up enough complete and total disregard for your own health and safety to go in and fuck Paris Hilton without a condom on is challenging.

The biggest reason, though, is simple. I've reacquainted myself with my deep and longstanding addiction to nethack.

I'll be back soon.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Bad News Baseball

I'm not entirely sure how much I can say about a baseball game, even a game with rabbits for umpires.
It's pretend baseball.
(Is it just me, or is he foaming at the mouth?) You pretend to hit the ball, then pretend to run around for awhile. I still say that video games are supposed to be an escape from reality, where you're saving the world. Or sleeping with Gillian Anderson. So if playing little league baseball with rabbits for umpires is your fantasy, I'd like to recommend Thorazine and a move to Florida, with the rest of the old or insane people. Florida, where they can accurately figure out a 15% tip in 3 seconds or less, but can't manage to vote. This one ate up about 5 minutes of my time before I got bored. I'll hold out for a Bad News Frog Baseball, thank you very much.

Friday, June 09, 2006

Bad Dudes

Bad Dudes is one of those games that seemed a lot more fun when I played it back in the 80's. Of course, we also thought MC Hammer pants and 8 inch bangs were pretty cool too. Speaking of the 80's, here's a phrase that should strike a cold bolt of horror into anyone who remembers the 80's. "Hey man, Tom Cruise is so totally rad!!!"
Christ. My soul died a little bit just typing that phrase. Anyway, Bad Dudes. I suppose that you can't expect much from a game that leads off with the phrase: "The president has been kidnapped by ninjas! Are you a bad enough dude to save him?" Let's think about that statement for just a moment. "The president has been kidnapped by ninjas! Are you a bad enough dude to save him?" Is there any phrase that can sum up the 80's quite like that one does?
In any case, our muscle-slathered heros have been recruited to rescue the kidnapped president from a band of roughly 18 bazillion ninjas (apparently homeland defence hasn't improved much since then). Is it just me, or does anyone else find female ninja strangely hot?
Then, to counter the strange attraction of the female ninja's, you've got one fat firebreather.
I suppose I could have tried a lot harder to make this entertaining, or even mildly amusing, but I somehow completely lost interest about a third of the way through.

Monday, June 05, 2006

Back to the Future II & III

I hesitate to state that any game has been the worst so far, partly because I'm only starting the B's and partly because there's so many other possibilities. I will, say, however, that no game so far has made me want to put off doing a review longer than Back to the Future 2/3. After reese pulled a vicious right hook and earned the right not to have to review this game, ... well, actually after I woke up after that right hook ... I complained that after drinking enough to make this game bearable, the keyboard kept running away from me. Sadly, though, with ice pack in hand and the knowledge that the Barbie game and sweet revenge is right around the corner, I sat back down to Nestopia to try to come up with something at least vaguely entertaining. Welcome to the U.S.S. Make Shit Up.

Since it's been many years and many lost brain cells since I've seen the movies, I can't completely vouch for their plots. All I remember is that II was in the future, III was in the old west, and there were absolutely no hamburgers walking around. None. Whatsoever. According to the intro screens in the game, your arch enemy, the Dr. Moriarty of .....

.
..
...

You know what? Fuck it. I've been typing and erasing for the past three whoreson, goatfucking hours. There's not one goddamn amusing thing that I can say about this gigantic piece of dogsqueeze that will make the experience anything more pleasant than getting a blowjob from a pissed off grizzly bear. The plot was written by a guy who heard about the movie from the hooker he was banging on the side, and directed by the same man after he found out he got the clap. It's designed for maximum punishment of you, the player. You start off with an admonishment that you'll need to find a remote to call the DeLorean, despite the fact that the very next screen has you being dropped off in that exact same car. Then you're deposited smack dab in a cross between Mario and something George Orwell shat while he was writing 1984. Complete with spiked turtles.
You're apparently supposed to run around and find "artifacts" that you have to "return" to their proper places in "history". This translates to "run around a map that makes no sense looking for something that you have no idea about in places that you can't find while wondering why you don't just give up and go jack off to pictures of Brittany Spears when she was hot." Seriously. Here's what it boils down to. You're looking for something. Somewhere. And once you find it, you have to return it to someplace else. All while being assaulted by horrific music and stock-game spiked turtles, directly out of Mario.
This game makes me appreciate the really sophisticated, classic games, like "pull my finger", or "Come on baby, light my fart"