Compulsory Review: Tekken 6 Is Okay.

Oh great, another goddamned game review. Let's read along with Marshall Law.

Let it be known that I've done plenty of video game scrapping over the years, and the Tekken series is no unknown name within the playlist. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that Tekken is my favorite 3D fighting series. It offers the same experience that titles like Virtua Fighter throw out without the hassle of needing to be an expert at it. In layman's terms, it's a pretty barebone game. Having gotten my kick out of the series since number 3, one might say I've been there, done that.


So what makes Tekken 6 so different from its previous counterparts? Everything and nothing, if one wants to get into the nitty gritty. Essentially, it's the same game as Tekken 5, which had the largest and arguably best cast of characters to date (then-newcomers Asuka, Raven and Feng Wei are still fairly fun to play), as well as an unnecessary beat-em-up Tekken Force mode, a convoluted ranking system in Arcade mode, customizable characters, and bonus arcade versions of Tekkens 1-3. What makes 6 different is additions to the roster, no bonus games, and a really nasty surprise.


I think 6 is where the series kind of gave up on new and interesting characters. There's Miguel the Spanish playboy, Zafina the Middle Eastern lady, Bob the lardass, and Leo the androgynous lady boy. There's also Lars, a Scandinavian bastard child of old boss Heihachi Mishima (what'll they think of next...) and Alisa Boskonovitch, a Pinnochio-esque robot chick, both whom look like they were puked out of a Final Fantasy character creator, and stars of the unloveable Tekken Force game. Unlike the last few games' new characters, these guys feel less spectacular and awkwardly shoehorned into the already bizzare storyline.


I mention the Tekken Force game only because unlike its last appearances in the series, this time you'll find yourself playing it. Not because it's fun and offers a great story, but because it's the key to unlocking ALL the fighters for the game's Arena, or story mode. As Lars (or any character you happen to unlock along the way), you trudge through level after level seeking revenge or something on the Mishima Zaibatsu. Each level flows in a linear, uninspired obstacle course of generic soldiers, bodyguards, and big ass robots until you get to the boss, usually a Tekken character who is then unlocked when you whoop them. This continues on and on until the end, and even then you have to do some spectacular bullshit to unlock all the fighters. This wouldn't be so bad IF Tekken Force was playable. The controls are lanky and frustrating (particularly moving around in the vicinity of enemies), the enemy lock-on sucks large quantities of balls, and 2/3rds through the game the boss fights become vicious and just unfun. You do get some aid in the form of an AI-controlled Alisa and occasional weapons, but the fact I cannot figure out how to unlock my aim on enemies so I can run and pick up health items ultimately kills any fun. Not that Tekken Force was EVER a fun part of the series, but this time it's almost unavoidable.


Thankfully, Tekken Force is about the only thing wrong with Tekken 6, as the actual fighting game is just as hunky dorey as it's ever been. Arcade Mode returns with the same ranking system as last time. Survival and Team Attack rear their heads. Story mode is almost as good as it ever was if it weren't for... grr... Tekken Focce. What threw me off was how the graphics don't seem to be as big an upgrade from last time, and this is considering that this is the first Tekken on the new generation of consoles. But maybe it's my 360, and maybe the PS3 version is radder since Tekken has always been a Sony system loyalist. In any case, the game IS pretty and characters like Christie Montiero are just as fappable as they ever were. I guess.


I spent the extra bones (slightly regrettably, now) to pick up the collector's edition of Tekken 6. What made this stand out was it came in a huge fucking box housing the game as well as a hardcover art book and a Hori arcade joystick. After the fiasco with my Madcatz SFIV joystick earlier this year, it was a gamble I was reluctant but able to make. Fortunately, the joystick works just fine. Unfortunately, it doesn't make Tekken Force any better to play. I would only reccomend the collector's edition if one doesn't have an arcade stick for fighting games, or if you have a boner for Tekken. I fell under both.


Regardless of collector's edition, Tekken 6 is worth checking out if you've played previous versions or need a fighting game that's not nearly as serious as Virtua Fighter or Soulcalibur. I mean, it has a Wesley Snipes ninja, a boxing kangaroo, insanely hot bitches, and no less than two bears. Why not? But if you're lacking the funds or patience to pick up a $60 Tekken 6, I'd suggest sticking with Tekken 5 on the PS2 for 1/3 of the price, or even the PSP version that is actually playable and fun.


For your health,


-C.

OU vs. OSU: FUHTBAWL ROYALE.

For as long as mankind has knuckle-dragged itself across the globe, rivalries have existed. Brother against brother is no strange concept on our shores, where we once made up an entire war on it. So it should come to nobody's surprise that Oklahoma has an in-state rivalry all its own. Alas, it's over college football, the jock equivalent of Horde versus Alliance. Year after year, the season begins and the fans get in an uproar, and then the season ends and the fans get in an uproar without drinking quite so much. The question is, what sect do you claim, Oklahoman? Do you go with the Oklahoma Sooners, or will you root for the Oklahoma State Cowboys? I mean, they're both Oklahoman, so what's the difference? That's where I come in.

Now, I'm not an expert on football. In fact, I don't give a fat fudge about it. I'm not going to litter my blog with sports statistics or rudimentary studies on how many rape and manslaughter convictions it takes a player to get suspended for one game. And no, I'm not going to play it safe and go with my alma mater, OSU, because that's what dirty cheaters do. I'm going to pretend that you, the reader, also know little about football. I've come up with a five-point contest based on the mascots, the fans, what the team colors remind me of, theme restaurants, and any merit the teams have. Now that I've stated that, I'll be clear in that neither team wins. Because the real winner is you, for caring about college football and being a bigger person than me.

Round 1: Mascots!

OU: Woody Wheel the Wacky Covered Wagon.

OU's biggest representative is a covered wagon, which according to history involves people who traveled to live out in the west being called "Sooners," whatever the hell that means. But the wagon stands for strength, endurance, and efficiency. If OU were founded today, there's no doubt that its mascot would be a fifth-wheel RV. Sadly, after a quick Google search I discovered that OU's actual mascot is a lame horse with no knowledge of royalty deals.

OSU: Tom Selleck.

The fact that OSU's mascot is Magnum, P.I. in a cowboy costume should surprise no one, as Oklahoma is well known for having a tapestry of history involving the wild west, the rustlers who tamed it, and the critically-acclaimed closeted homosexuality that followed. And who is tough on the job as well as he is easy on the eyes? Tom Selleck. Although disheveled and impossibly bow-legged, Selleck amasses his fans by calling them "Pokes," which they only WISH they were after a candle-lit dinner with the star of Quigley Down Under.

Winner: Whether OU fans are entertained by an antique travel trailer or the livestock that pulls it, nobody will disagree that Tom Selleck would kick its ass in a whimsical mascot fight. With style, and possibly a Ferrari.

Round 2: Fans Unite!

OU: This Guy.

It takes much dedication to be seen like this in front of thousands of people, so before you point and laugh at the man, I urge you to think for a moment. Would you push yourself away from the kitchen table during a ham and butter dinner to dip your face in paint and wear your best boots to a college football game? No, you'd fucking twitter about the game while doing over-priced body shots off a waitress named after a candle scent. But this guy did it. And he is not ashamed, either. The only thing I could call him (Gerald) out for is for forgetting to put on pants that don't match his enthusiasm.

OSU: These Jerks.

While they may not have a comically-sized man in their stands, OSU fans will steal their clothes and pull out all the punches. "Hey Kansas Jayhawks coach Mark Mangino, do these underpants belong to you? Because we found a pair that might fit your physique! LOLOLOlol!!!1!" Somebody call an OSU medical student, because I am in stitches! So yeah, while OSU fans are filled with plenty of team pride, they're pretty much dicks.

Winner: While OSU fans are capable of rousing their rivals to the point of just going and teabagging the opposing teams' cheerleaders, OU marginally beats them for simply having even less shame. Nobody walks outside of his or her bedroom looking like that for any other reason than loving football way too much for their own good.

Round 3: The Pretty Colors!

OU: Canada.

The simplicity of OU's red-and-white color scheme could be traced to the simplicity of our neighbors to the north. A carefree and hearty people, Canadians live on a rich diet of maple-flavored anything and baskets of Tim Horton's doughnuts. Although Canadians are famous for the wintertime sport "hockey," they have also been spotted playing games such as football, basketball, hopscotch, and Triominos. Some Canadians can also be French, which can be distinguished by their snarky insistence that their name is not Robert, but "Reau-bieu." Canada's chief exports are timber, oil, Golden Globe winners, and in my case, grandparents.

OSU: Halloween.

The irony is that OSU's colors, black and orange, are obvious reminders of Halloween, which is a pagan holiday that many pious Oklahomans have replaced with Harvest Day, which in turn is total bullshit. Instead of being allowed to dress up as something as innocent as a baby duckling or Carrie Underwood, children are hauled off to church to learn how to hate things that don't pertain to their belief system yet again. To be fair, some less outrageous churches have loopholed the system by inventing "Trunk-or-Treat," where families drive to the church parking lot and hand candy and bibles to each other. That's close enough, but there's something uncomfortably predatory about the idea of giving children candy out of a car. I'll stick with regular Halloween, where the sky's the limit where kids decorate yards with toilet paper and I get to poke scenesters with a plastic pitchfork until they lament their melancholy on a status update.

Winner: This proved to be a tough choice, as I enjoy bags of milk (a real Canadian delicacy) as well as bags of candy. While Canada is no slouch in a competition, Halloween's real advantage is that it only comes once a year, letting me build up my excitement and anticipation for regular sluts to look extra slutty in their crazy costumes. I imagine Canadians get burnt out on being from Canada after ten, twelve years. And so OSU wins this match.

Round 4: Yummy Food!

OU: Billy Sims Barbecue

One-time footballer Billy Sims decided that after footballing he would cut off his afro and find work as a brand name for a local barbecue restaurant. Although he shared the same dream as any other famous person looking to cash in on their own mundane success (cough cough Toby Keith cough), damn, but that's pretty good barbecue. And there's a drive-thru window if you're allergic to sports memorabilia. And if that's not enough for you lazy assholes, he'll ship his sauce to your doorstep so your slop it on your breakfast cereal because you're an OU fan WITH NO SHAME.

OSU: Eskimo Joe's.

I don't know diddly-shit about Eskimo Joe's as far as their food goes, as I have never eaten there. But they do one HELL of a business on selling T-shirts to people who don't know any better. I cannot tell you how many out-of-town relatives have wanted me to take them to the Eskimo Joe's store in the mall so they can buy as many plastic cups and shirts as humanly possible. What sets these items apart from the Wal-Mart variety is the always-grinning visage of Joe, an embodiment of racism that never gets brought up because eskimoes are known for their acute apathy. If Joe's smile could cure cancer, we'd be in good hands. However, all it can do is sell a stupid shirt for $14.95.

Winner: While Billy Sims encourages Sooners fans to get fatter and fatter, I can at least prove they serve food. Eskimo Joe's sells so many shirts I've began to suspect that it's not a restaurant at all. In fact, if they do serve food, how come nobody ever talks about it? How come all anybody wants from Eskimo Joe's is a fucking T-shirt? OSU is disqualified, and OU wins with some awful barbecue farts afterwards.

Final Round: Merit!

I'm not going to go out of my way to pretend to know anything about football, let alone these two teams and their fantastical abilities. I will disregard any and all statistics they possess and replace my initial score of "Let OU win or else they'll whine about losing" with "both teams win with a spectacular hug and no sudden death, and now all the fans can go home smiling and have happy dreams in their sleep." This is the benefit of me not knowing shit about football - a tie. You're welcome, America.

The "E For Extra Effort, the Extra is an Extra E!" Award in Trying: Tulsa U.
For years, the Tulsa Hurricanes have been third banana in the lineup of Oklahoma college teams that people make too big a deal out of. They always seem to be that team that the Sooners and Cowboys trick by telling them the rad beach party is at Majestic, which unbeknownst to the Hurricanes is the fabulous club for "swingers." I would've included them in my five point test if it didn't cost me an extra $10, 000 per paragraph. But I will note that their mascot, a super tornado man, looks remarkably like the poop mascot of Boon-Ga Boon-Ga, a Japanese arcade game where you stick a plastic finger in a fake ass. I am not lying. Google it. I don't give a damn.

Separated at birth?

So there you go. I can only hope that my test helps you decide what team to root for next season. Take the time to buy a jersey and come up with some good one-liners to say to the rivals, like "I'd Sooner be an OSU fan!" or "Fuck you, Cowboys!"

For your health,

-C.

Entertainment Foreshadowing...

Holy balls, is it going to be a jam-packed month ahead. All the way into Christmas, it seems like something I want comes out almost every week. This week it was Transformers 2. Next week is a trifecta of Tekken 6, GTA4: Tales From Liberty City (or whatever), and some Monty Python DVD, and movies like G.I. Joe, Up, Star Trek, Harry Potter 6, The Hangover, and Bruno will be looming over the horizon after that. It's one of those realities that makes me glad that my birthday and Christmas are a month apart. So... what to expect?

Michael Bay's Transformers is something that many people bitch about yet nobody seems to notice. The long and short of any review of Transformers 2 can be summed up in one sentence: One's enjoyment of the second film can and likely will be based on the enjoyment of the first film. In simple man's words, if you thought the first one was fantastic, then this one will rattle the jizz out of your balls. Likewise, if you thought the first one sucked, this one sucks harder. Personally, I enjoy the movies. I cannot think they are fantastic, as I have my issues with them... mainly having to do with the fact I give half a fuck about the human cast. Shia LaBeouf is a decent enough, Disney-graduate actor, Megan Fox is easy on the eyes (if not unusually "greasy-looking" for my tastes, with apologies to fanboys), and John Turturro makes for alright comic relief, but you know what I think makes for a Transformers movie? Some fucking Transformers doing Transformer shit, that's what. Granted, the second movie meets us halfway by throwing out triple the number of Transformers, and twice the amount of screentime, but only a handful get decent coverage, and half of them suck. Some whiners bellyached about the twin Autobots being racist, and I just find them annoyingly tolerable, much akin to Jar Jar Binks from Star Wars. And SPOILER ALERT OMFG LOL I'd like to why Bumblebee cannot speak in part two if he could speak at the very end of part one. There are many more of these nitpicky moments in Transformers 2, but as a actiony sci-fi flick it's good enough. What tickles me is that critics all around panned the hell out of this movie and yet it's the highest-grossing film of the year. I think it's awesome because we as a society gave the middle finger to the people paid to tell us when something stinks. On the other hand, if they're right and we're wrong, we're morons. Then again, they said The Departed was a great film, and it sucked. So nobody wins.

Speaking of movies based on toys, I'm curious about G.I. Joe, which will be out next month. I skipped out on seeing it in theaters for the same reason I skip out on 90% of movies in theaters: I'm lazy and it's expensive. On one hand, I'm only familiar enough with the series that any harm they do by messing up the continuity of G.I. Joe will not faze me. On the other hand, it could be a shitty movie like the same people who said Transformers 2 sucked. On a third, magic radoactive hand, a Wayans brother is in it not playing an ugly white woman or a midget, so it could be in a category all its own.

The movie Up is next. I didn't see it either, but I usually enjoy Pixar movies (Cars was so-so and I've never seen Monsters, Inc. because I wanted to avoid that disappointment). This one would be hard to pass up getting.

I am, I repeat, I am NOT a Star Trek fan. I have never seen an entire episode of any Star Trek show, and have never seen any of the original series. I'm not a hater, per se, but I don't give a shit. I do love Patrick Stewart and know all of the actors from the original show and their characters, but that's about it. I hate space stories, and Star Trek never appealed to me. Ironically, Star Wars did in some degree, but I never trailed beyond the six movies. So why on earth am I interested in the new Star Trek? I have no idea. But I am, and although I doubt this will pump me up into loving Star Trek as a series, I get the feeling I will like this movie. We'll see.

I'm not nearly as stoked for Harry Potter and the Moneyhat of Alakazam, or whatever the hell the sixth movie's called. I'm not exactly a Harry Potter fan, but I enjoy the movies enough. My mom, on the other hand, loooooves Harry Potter (until Twilight came out of the closet and reverted her to a 12-year-old Teen Beat subscriber) and has occasionally pestered me into reading the books. I don't in case I ever write a book and then no one can say I copied them. But the sixth chapter of Harry Potter holds a special place in my heart. Some may remember that when the sixth book was coming out, it was announced that "an important character" dies. I went with my mom to the store to buy the book first day (not a midnight launch, but during business hours like regular people). Not to be fumbled with spoilers, my mom was determined to find out herself through the magic of reading. I, on the hand, didn't give a crap one way and as she continued shopping, I flipped through the cinderblock book and discovered who it was (SPOILERS IT WAS GANDALF IMEAN DUMBLEDORE LOLOLOL). Thus I began a series of taunts. "I know something you don't know! I know something you don't know!" I cheered in a sing-song voice while mother pushed her cart into me. It's safe to say she did eventually find out without my important help. So that leads me to now, where I will probably watch the sixth movie because Emma Watson is legal now.

Everyone I talk to says I need to see The Hangover. I hate peer pressure but I guess I will.

Finally, there's Bruno, the third character of Sacha Baron Cohen's beloved children's program, Da Ali G Show. Of the three (the others being the titular Ali G and Borat, which if I have to explain who THAT is then you're not even fucking reading this whole post), Bruno is my least favorite because his character is generally accepted by the people he's pranking around with, and thus bad televison. There's also a heavy chance of naked dicks in the movie, and while I'm neither offended nor aroused, it's difficult to watch the rest of the movie. I guess I'll have to find out.

I would go on a rant about Tekken 6, but I think I will save that for a review nobody will read and then bitch at me for bitching about it. But then if they didn't read it, how do they know? Leprechauns.

I'll leave you with that to ponder about. For your health.

-C.

Holy Smokes, A Post!

It's been pretty lonely on this blog. I thought I'd drop in.

Life has been pretty interesting and stagnant at the same time, if that makes any sense. I've seemingly lost some friends (mostly brought on by stubborn attitudes, either on my or their part), rekindled some old friendships (yays), and met new people (how ya doin'?).

I've felt pretty trapped lately in part of my truck being a major asshole since February. I've wrote about it here and there, but this is the story as it stands now. It would go a couple months and then decide to not start up in the morning when I'd either have to go to work or get on a shuttle to Suckwater. The mystery was that anyone I sought out to remedy this would start it up no problem. After replacing a battery cable, a fuel filter, dicking with the starter, and various home remedies, I've decided the problem lies somewhere within a system I cannot discover, like a closet door in the truck that leads to a magical yet dark world filled with imagination. I've diagnosed Black Beauty (I named the truck, so what) with a form of terminal auto herpes, incurable yet non-lethal, as switching the ignition a few times will summon the beast to life. Until I can find someone who knows what the hell is wrong with it AND can fix it, I'm stuck with it. I no longer shriek in violent bursts whenever it tries to fail me, though. And this ignition issue is now just on the list of stupid shit wrong with the truck, among them being the lack of automatic lock systems or the ability to control the passenger window from the driver's side without "punching" in the somewhat-loose controls on the passenger door. Such is life.

I would also like to take a moment to note the death of my camera of six years, the Kodak EasyShare CX4230. For the past year or so I had contemplated replacing it as it had grown outdated like any other form of technology. It was a mere 2 megapixels (whatever THAT means) and required $9 batteries to run. Its age was also apparent with the replacement of the memory card. Remember back in 2003 when memory cards only went up to what, 32 MB? Last year I bought a 2 GB card, and instead of yielding me only 70-so pictures, I was awarded over 2300 pictures to take. Neat.

Anyway, a couple weekends ago I went to a friend's birthday party and managed to snag a few photos before I drunkenly dropped the damn thing on the concrete floor of her garage. I picked it up and noticed the lens was bent, and drunkenly assessed that I could push the lens back in place. I pressed it and now the lens motor refuses to work, resulting in a blur that no drunk can unscramble. Instead of being pissy about it, I decided my time to replace the camera was now, although I was a bit irked that I wasn't finished getting all my pictures I wanted to take.

I went into Best Buy almost pathetically, having never purchased a camera of my own, ever. I did have enough wherewithall to test out the quality of the display models before I finally settled on a 12 megapixel Kodak EasyShare M341. It is smaller, takes videos, runs on an AC charge, has about 3000 settings I will test at some point (snow pictures! beach pictures! possibly even a setting when you take a picture of a chimpanzee drinking its own piss stream, for highest quality piss capture!), and was the same price as the 10 megapixel version. Again, whatever that means. And they only had one left. After purchasing it along with some much-needed "dumabass-don't-drop-it" store insurance (Laugh On Lawnchairs!), I took it home and... well, that's the end of the story. I now only have 771 pictures left on it instead of the previous camera's allowance of 2236.

I wanted to promised the two readers, or three, or none, that I wouldn't prattle on about video games like a goon, but I would like to note that I shelved Red Faction for boring me half to tears. I could go beat it on a rainy day, but I'm basically spent on it. I did go get the Batman game, and on a scale of 1 to 5 it ranks as Holy Shit Awesome. I don't even care so much for Batman as a series. Mark Hammill as the Joker again sold it to me. My only regret was that I beat it in a few days, leaving little to go back to. I will argue that it is likely the best comic book game, unless Activision decides to remake Spider-Man 2 for this generation of consoles. And Spider-Man 3 doesn't count.

I would also like to take this opportunity to note that I found out Capcom will be releasing Super Street Fighter IV next spring. They revealed that T. Hawk and Dee Jay will be in it, giving us all the full roster from SSFII. I came in my fucking pants.

So while I've run out of things to say about games, it also seems that I've ran out of things to say in general. I think I've left enough stories to freshen this place up with, anyway. I just wish Blogger could tell when I split paragraphs so I don't have to re-edit this stuff forty times. Ah well. Until next time.

-C.

The Gaming Non-Review Blog II: The Review Blog.

A while back, I wrote down a list of games that I had considered for my library. In the month and a half since then, I can say the following: Prototype and Ghostbusters are still on that list and will stay there until their prices go down, KOFXII got BALLS for reviews and will definitely require the price drop before purchase, Tekken 6 will be bought when it comes out, Marvel vs. Capcom 2 will likely not get bought because I'm lazy, and fuck Rock Band: Beatles. Dunno what I was thinking on that one.

That leaves Red Faction: Guerilla, which is the game I did end up getting. I'm not as into it as I would've expected, mainly because the game dumps you onto a planet where you can get points for doing stupid tasks like smashing space rocks for cash or whatnot. I will credit this game for being the first where I could get achievement points but cannot care enough to obtain them. Now, the game is fun, and the whole "busting everything up with rockets and space hammers" gameplay is delightful. It's the story that keeps me at an ass-dragging pace with the game. I don't care what happens next. Unlike Saints Row 1 & 2, which didn't have the greatest story but was somewhat interesting in its semi-whimsical approach to GTA drudgery, RFG is just a bunch of space vigilantes sticking it to the man. My take is as awesome as the actual thing. After clearing half the game, I'm still on the fence as to whether or not it's worth a $60 purchase, but it hasn't let me down considering my expectations weren't huge.

Another surprise was a fighting game called Blazblue: Calamity Trigger, which could possibly be the shittiest name for a game I've ever seen. This is the spiritual successor to the Guilty Gear series. Anyone who's ever read about my experience with Guilty Gear may know it's a series I love and hate. Anyhoo, Blazblue is somewhat lacking compared to the likes of SFIV, with only twelve fighters. But boy oh boy are the graphics purty. Like Guilty Gear, Blazblue incorporates lush 2D graphics in the game, making it appear more like a cartoon than a glitchy-assed video game. And I suppose Blazblue is the fighting game for super-awesome tournament players, as it comes with a DVD teaching the game mechanics and bizarre move sets and combos. Whenever I attempt to see how to accomplish a move on a FAQ, it reads as such: "8A6C5D4D 1+2, then A2A2A2A3D4+B1, 3+3+3." I'm not the best player of fighting games, but I've done it long enough to go ahead and ask WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? Chinese symbols make as much sense. Older moves like "down, down-forward, forward + punch" are a thing of the past I guess.

Regardless, Blazblue is good fun. It didn't last as long as I'd hoped, but hey, fightings.

I forgot to add the upcoming Batman: Arkham Asylum to the list, if only because I'm not sure if I could dig a Batman game.

-C.

The Gaming Non-Review Blog: Wish-List Subtitle.

And thus I am bored. Okay, so I shouldn't be, seeing how it's summer and I should be running around outside and splashing in pools and tanning and drinking pina coladas. But as far as gaming goes, I've been in a rut. It's not that there aren't any good, new games to play - quite the opposite, really. It's that there are too many and they cost too damn much. In fact, my last 360 purchase was a mere $15 for Dark Sector - not terrible, not memorable, still need to beat it - and so adding another $45 to that for one game sounds like rubbish.

But then I started playing Pokemon. That's when I realized I need to do something.

I've come up with a list of games that present potential fun times for me. I only write it down now because I feel as though doing so will make me laugh later on when I'll likely own all these games and will probably be wrong. Let's do this.

1. Prototype.
Pros: Prototype looks as though it is a spiritual successor to the wunder-hit Crackdown, a game with no story and involves running around, leaping rooftops and throwing shit every which way. Add symbiotic powers like arm blades and shapeshifting into pedestrians and I wonder how this game could possibly go wrong.
Cons: Every review I read about this game shits on something about it, and no two reviews read the same. It's like people like this game, but can't help but poo-poo controls. Or graphics. Or story. Or difficulty. This is one of those games where I need to stop letting journalism ruin my childish awe in something that looks so cool. Especially when they cum in their pants over something like Left 4 Dead, which I found fun for about fifteen minutes. Nontheless, these reviews serve as vague warnings, like old wooden signs dictating to no one in particular "No Tresspassing." You can do it and likely get away with it, many times even, but you cannot say they didn't warn you.

2. Ghostbusters.
Pros: Bustin' makes me feel good. And from my understanding, this game is a Ghostbusters fan's wet dream, only a game. Considering that I enjoyed the (now awful) 80's cartoon and recently bought the movies and enjoyed those, it's safe to assume I will enjoy this.
Cons: I run a risk of beating this game too fast. This parallels the situation where one sweet talks the girl into going on the date, buying dinner, buying the movie tickets, sitting through the shitty movie, driving her back to her place, getting lucky, then blowing a load on her stomach before sealing the deal. What I'm trying to say is that $60 is a lot of money for six hours of enjoyment.

3. Red Faction: Guerilla.
Pros: This game fell under my radar. The same folks taking turns pissing on Prototype are circle-jerking around this game, giving it a good-grade bukkake coating. At first, I was like, "Fuck you." Then I watched a video where I found out the same developers of Saints Row 2 made this, and essentially you just run around and smash shit up on Mars. This game now employs three key ingredients for enjoyment: my love for Saints Row 2, my love for smashing, and my hatred of space.
Cons: It could suck and prove my earlier point that gaming journalists and I don't have a bone in common anymore.

4. King of Fighters XII.
Pros: Old-school 2D ass-kickery with shiny graphics. And a week to accumulate monies.
Cons: $60 for what Street Fighter IV could've been if it had stupider characters. One can only hope it isn't that costly.

5. Tekken 6.
Pros: 3D ass-kickery. And nobody can touch Eddy Gordo when he's wearing those Jamaican colors. Also, longer time to accumulate monies.
Cons: Near-guarantee that I will also have to buy a new 360 controller. The one I've had since I got my system is already wearing out, and I don't think it will survive Tekken. No controller does.

6. Rock Band: Beatles.
Pros: I will have plastic drums, and perhaps find out why everybody loves the fucking Beatles so much. I was born 30 years too late to like them.
Cons: The Beatles boner package is a whopping $250, which is right about the part of my thinking about this game where I then think that I do not want this game so much. I pretty much threw this on the list for giggles.

7. Marvel vs. Capcom 2.
Pros: I will have it on my hard drive, and I loves it so much on my Dreamcast.
Cons: Three things: the game looks assy on HD, I don't have Xbox Live, and the last boss blows so hard I had to buy a Game Shark to beat it back when.

And there you have it. I'm sure in a while, I'll have at least one of these games. Then I will write about it, because that is what I do.

-C.

Life and Death and This and That.

Unless one has been sitting under a rock for the past few days, it's plainly obvious that the world has had its fair share of great folks taken away. Ed McMahon, the whimsical sidekick of Johnny Carson. Farah Fawcett, the 70's sex icon. And of course, the king of pop, Michael Jackson. Oomph. Now that a chunk of my childhood has been stripped, you'll have to excuse me.

Jackson's death was the most shocking. I mean, who the hell dies from cardiac arrest at 50? And with all of the issues he'd been facing these last few years, it wouldn't be entirely surprising if there wasn't some self-assist in the whole matter. If there's a matter. Because I have my thoughts. See, Michael Jackson was well known for his exuberant eccentricity. He lived in a theme park with a chimp and Corey Feldman, for fuck's sake. And he was also accused of bribing kids with his vast array of toys and video games and cookies in exchange for touching no-no parts. And he made the Thriller album, which I still cherish. So yes, he's pretty messed up. And all that's without a comment on his ghoulish face.

Anyway, my point is that I think, or would like to think, that Michael staged his death, Andy Kaufman style, to just escape of to some remote tropical island, so he can just live in peace. If that were really true, it would be the dick move of the century, but only Michael could pull that off. He was that crazy. But it probably isn't true, which is a shame. So say what you want about his bizzare behavior, but the guy is gone, and his music remains as a reminder of a great musician. And while I don't believe in conventional heaven, I'd like to think that at the very least that wherever Michael is now, he's black again.

I find Farrah's death tragic in the sense that the cause of her demise sounds so unflattering. Anal cancer. One would think, in our time, that we could come up with a better name for that. I dunno, intestinal cancer? Lower abdominal cancer? Something that wouldn't coax me into chuckling cruelly, anyway. And while she was quite a bit before my time, I can't deny she was pretty hot. She was especially attractive in her later years, which makes this seem even sadder.

So imagine that, less than an hour ago, I found out that my grandma's eldest brother died. But there will be no remorse for this guy, if there is any justice. Cecil Campbell, as I call it, is scum. If I sound like a prick, let me elaborate. Have you ever watched TV and there's a crime story about a child molester that gets sent to the clink for what, five years. And did you ever go, "They need to just kill that bastard." Let me say that the world is now a little bit safer. There's one less of them.

As a kid, I didn't know Cecil well. By that point in time it was pretty much established that he was fucked up. His unusual behavior went back as far as when my grandma was a kid, and children were cautiously warned not to be alone with him, although there was no real reason given. It was just an understanding to stay away from him. I remember going to his and Aunt Jean's house at least once, idly playing with Micro Machines on a space heater for a few hours until it got dark. I was, of course not out of my grandma's sight. Not long after, he went to jail for, well, yes. I don't know the circumstances exactly, but by then it had gone on for too long.

One of the only other memories of Cecil I have is somewhat jarring, if not frightening. I was probably around seven, and one evening my grandma got the occasional prison call from Cecil. Oddly, he asked to talk to me. Keep in mind I hardly knew the man, and had enough wherewithall to know he went to prison for something bad. Even stranger was my grandma obliged him. She called me to the phone, and here I was speaking to a convicted sex offender. At age seven. To be fair (right...), he wasn't lewd or suggestive. He asked short questions - how I was, how the family was, school, pets, so forth. I answered him as I would a good friend, but thought the entire time that this was the most fucked-up shit ever. After all was said, I handed the phone back to grandma and that was that.

My memory's a bit off, but I could argue that this happened more than once. And while nothing about the phone call(s?) was inappropriate in content, I look back now and wonder what the hell went through than man's head while he was talking to me. And honestly, I can't say that this makes me feel like a victim of violation. He did worse to others, making the phone call seem like bullshit on a stick.

The aftermath was that after a five-year stint, Cecil got out and moved next to his sister-in-law, in an old schoolbus he converted into a broke-ass RV. Years later he got too old and got moved into a retirement center. And now he's dead. Good riddance.

I've done some reflection these past few days with all these losses, and I feel apathetic considering the number of people I lost last year that I was close to. Small potatoes. Things go on as usual, and my direct world isn't disrupted. I can only hope that mother nature continues shedding her kindness.

Hey, lighten up! Transformers 2 is at least as good as the first movie! This is, of course, if you like the first one. Otherwise I'm not proud to give you more bad news.

-C.