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The Third Annual Valentine's Day Horror Movie Marathon

It's nearly Valentine's Day and you know what that means! No, it's not time to hang the rope from the ceiling fan again. We covered this last year: you're way too fat for it to support your weight. If you really want to kill yourself anyway you can just keep eating, and then you may at least break a world record while you're at it.

I'm talking about the annual Valentine's Day Horror Movie Marathon! The one reliable feature that I contribute to this site because I literally have an entire year to prepare it in advance. So if anything happens between April 25, 2011 and February 14, 2012, you can bet that this article will totally ignore it! That's just my commitment to you, the reader.

This year, in honour of the recent DVD release of the prequel to The Thing and breaking the commitment I made just two sentences ago, it's going to be an all Who Goes There?-themed marathon! I won't expect that you've read the original novella that these three films are based on, however, because I know that you're illiterate.

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THE DANGERS OF DEFINING "GENRE"

 

 

One of the unique problems with games is the tendency for nerds to want to obsessively find a way to label and organize them.  Of all the problems creating obstacles to coming up with fresh ideas and concepts, this incessant need to put something in a group is something that should be innocently nerdy enough, but instead finds its way burrowed into the thick skulls of mouthbreathers hovering over every keystroke in the gayme forum world.  Sure, you can go all the way back to The Official Nintendo Player's Guide, and I imagine well before that, to find plenty of innovative games that could hardly be classified into one simple group, but nonetheless found themselves herded onto the trains labeled "Light Gun Series" and "Adventure Series" sent off to the proverbial concentration camp of late '80s American households and eventually meeting their Xecutioner via the endless trend of angry reviewers that got old in 2006.  

But the most fascinating thing about our herding instinct is that some of the simplifications are either TOO simple or just outright wrong.  Much like with movies, you can quickly and easily take what some local hack or hip counterculture critic writes and take it out of context depending on what you're looking for.  It would be just as easy for me to twist some words around and call Heathers a straight up "comedy" rather than a "dark romantic comedy" or even a "chick flick," for instance.  The most important thing here, however, is to look at just how concrete the folks in the "gamer" community have become lately, like they're some kind of authority on ANYTHING, much less games they haven't even played and yet are FUCKING CERTAIN that they meet the criteria for a given genre.  No matter what cool twists and turns you might find, no matter what level of innovation Xists out there, some assholes decided they had to lump everything into FPS, Sports, Fighting, Beat 'Em Up, RPG, Arcade/Rail Shooter, or Action Adventure, with the occasional Sandbox thrown in there for good measure.  There's a point to this rant, and it's this: fuck you.

Understand that I have favorites in these genres.  You know what my favorite FPS is?  Operation Wolf.  It's a First Person Shooter.

Now, if you're savvy to the world of the gayme reviewer scene, then you're probably more than ready to stop me right there and say "But PG, that's a Rail Shooter!"  You're probably also gayfat.  Before you get all autistic on me and insist that's the case (the Rail Shooter thing, I mean, not the gayfatness, which I KNOW is true), consider this: It's first person.  And it's a shooter.  That makes it a First Person Shooter.  You know what my favorite RPG is?  Fatal Fury.  The second I put my quarter in, I am playing the role of white trash trucker Terry Bogard, and my role is to squeak by my opponents until I reach Geese Howard, who teaches me what it means to be a man when he informs me that he murdered my father and, very shortly thereafter, kicks me throat-first out of his high-rise window to my own death.

The great thing about totally innovative titles is that it just KILLS the folks who want to label and rate the fuckers as soon as they can and as simply as possible.  One prime Xample of this is Grand Theft Auto 3.  There was so much to offer, and in such a different way, that it baffled the masses for a bit. It wasn't until some time later that they managed to come up with "sandbox" as a genre, which is the gayest fucking thing since Liberace's glitter-coateed balloon knot spinning around on some Louisiana Blacksnake.  It was additionally wounding to Nintendo console loyalists since it did so well without the word "Zelda" in the title.  It's not Rockstar's fault that their beloved franchise titles hadn't innovated a fucking thing since the mid-1980s.  It's not Simon's Quest's fault that Konami decided to try something different, only to be vilified as various combinations of curse words that aren't as catchy as "gayfat."

So the next time you come across something that comes across as a fresh idea, whether in a "defined" genre or not, I challenge you to take a quick look at it, give it a shot, and make some fucking effort to think of it as a standalone game in its own world rather than trying to fit it into what is now a soulless, streamlined collection of terms that some fat pseudointellectual asshole thinks he's smart for using in front of his ugly girlfriend, who I'm sure is a moderator at some forum he's joined.

Things of the Year, 2011

By the time I finish this article it'll be more than a day too late to be relevant, but I don't care! I'm drunk and surly and you're gonna sit down and listen to me, dammit!


Best Film

X-Men: First Class

The fact that I reviewed this movie at all is a sure sign that I enjoyed it. I rarely bother to see a movie in theatres unless I'm already excited for it (The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was one pleasant exception), and if I'm excited for something it usually turns out to be great because my first impressions are almost always right. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I'm just suffering from positive bias, but then I remember Resident Evil: Apocalypse and how shitty that turned out even though I was looking forward to it. I vividly recall sitting in the theatre, watching as the nuclear missile was soaring toward Raccoon City, and thinking I just realized that this movie is shit. I guess I'm not a god after all.

X-Men: First Class is an example of my better judgement. After that fat moron Brett Ratner ruined The Last Stand and then some other no-name jerkoff managed to make a movie about Hugh Jackman as Wolverine suck festering anus, I was justifiably worried about the future of the X-Men film series. But if there's one thing that First Class has taught us, it's that mutants are dangerous and need to be detained, or maybe it was something about how good (capitalism) always triumphs over evil (January Jones's pasty white tits).

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Holiday Salutations!

Merry Christmas and happy Jew Christmas, everyone! I won't be staying long as there is a Doctor Who marathon on the Space channel today and I don't have anything to post about by way of a Christmas Aftermath this year. Not that I didn't receive any good gifts, but none of them would be particularly interesting to you geeks. A sure sign of age is getting nothing but clothes for Christmas and simultaneously getting everything you asked for.

So, I just thought I'd pop in to wish a happy holidays and be mildly offensive toward the Jews. If you need me, I'll be the incredibly well-dressed man on the couch with a glass of whiskey and watching the BBC's take on The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.

GamesRadar is Unfit to Choose the Top 7 Best Star Wars Games

It's that time of year again, folks. The time when I get drunk and critique other people's articles about video games because what the fuck do they know? I'd link to my previous efforts at this, but they were lost somewhere around the third database overhaul, not unlike a child becomes lost at the county fair. That is to say, 100% intentionally on the part of the parents.

So whose dreams will I be shattering this time? None other than prolific writer for the website GamesRadar.com, GamesRadar Staff. Mr Staff has composed a doozey of a shit pile for us to consume, fork and knife in hand, under the guise of the Top 7 ... Best Star Wars games. The ellipses are courtesy of the Staffinator, because they add drama and tension. "Just what could be coming after them?" you ask yourself. "Could it be some sort of chimp-driving automobile?" No! It is the Best Star Wars games! You suddenly find yourself aghast, unsure of whether or not you should still fap to this.

You should, because it's murder porn.

7. LEGO Star Wars II: The Original Trilogy

"How could anyone not love these yellow block-headed guys?" asks the Staff infection. Please, confer with my feet, which are bruised and bloodied from many a LEGO building block left discarded on the floor. I've stepped on those hard-edged motherfuckers so many times that I dare not even call the appendages attached at the bottom of my legs "feet" anymore. They are stubs. I look like a goddamn war amp, and who's going to give me a pension so that I can get my crippled ass off the street? George Lucas? Fuck that guy. I won't take any of his damned blood money.

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AN OPEN LETTER TO SQUARE ENIX

The following is an actual, real e-mail I sent to Square Enix a while back.


To whom it may concern:

This is fine.

I don't know whether you'll think this is relevant to your interests, or if it will make an impact on future sales, but let me make one thing clear: I am a drinker.  I don't think I fit into the alcoholic category, primarily because I don't go to AA meetings.  I'm not one of those bar-hopping party animals who drinks a dozen beers and lets out a high-pitched, gravel-throated "WOOOOOOOOOOOO!" then intentionally bumps into the nearest co-ed with the ill-strategized intention of fucking her.  I mostly enjoy the fine taste of malt liquor and/or hard 80-150 proof bourbon, or a mixture of several brands and types of strong booze like the Obituary, Screaming Viking, or the little-known Q*Bert.  The important thing to know is that such liquor makes me not necessarily drunk and unable to use machinery at this point, but almost always angry, abusive and stubborn.  For example, the other night I told my girl "NO I WILL NOT SHUT UP YOU SHUT UP I DON'T HAVE TO DO SHIT BITCH YOU TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT!" and consequently played Final Fantasy while she went to sleep.  I gained ten levels that night.

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DEITY OF THE WEEK - KAMI

I know you're probably wondering, "Well, where exactly is the god in the picture?"  I'll get to that.

DESCRIPTION:

Kami, the gods of the Shinto religion in Japan, are seen as personified deities, forces of nature, spirits, angels, demons, etc.  They're essentially the same thing as the Greek and Roman gods, only way, way lazier in execution of their representative forces.  Blacktually, they're closer to those Injun spirits we're supposed to recognize, or at least give some effort in recognizing them, like when your Injun guide tells you to put your ear to the ground and listen for Earth spirits while he gets off his horse and steals your liquor.  

Credit should go out to the Greeks for at least going through the effort of making massive, intimidating statues illustrating that your god has a huge dick and can throw lightning bolts at you.  Shintoism kind of insinuates that maybe you should consider, ever so slightly, to donate some ca$h to a temple for no real reason other than the fact that there are paper ribbons hanging in the place.  THEY'RE NATURE.  Fags.  

Even the effort of making a temple is half-assed for the Kami.  If the old Pagan gods got to have a 36,000-square-foot palace, the Kami got the equivalent of a dog house, which just points out even more that when people refer to Chinese-ish people as dogs, they have more of a point than the other way around.  The fact that you can just as easily make up a Kami for a dog just proves the point even further.

METHOD OF WORSHIP:

The closest thing I can think of to really pay my respects to any respective Kami is to do it the Old Testament sort of way: panhandling.  That "old time religion" is great at one thing, and that's taking people's hard-earned money hand over fist.  Kami seem to be a lot lighter in their poor-people-fucking ways.  Since we're not talking omniscient beings here, we just have to assume that some Kami are FUCKING EVERYWHERE and just be paranoid about offending anybody at any time at any place.  That guy just slapped you in the face?  Don't retaliate!  A Kami is in the bushes!  A Kami IS the bush! It's a bush god!  Instead, goofily smile, bow your head while making a prayer gesture with your hands, and offer him a ride on your gaijin rickshaw.  You'll be glad you did.  As for myself, once the ride is over, I'll pay tribute to the Kami of wallet-stealing and stabbing.