So the other day at work, I opted to prove to no one in particular that I can be a strong fellow. I loaded three tables (fixtures, if you must) onto carts and hauled them out onto the store floor for processing. These tables probably weigh a good couple hundred pounds, if not more, as they were a bitch to even get off the dock. After successfully unloading them, I felt triumphant that I pulled this off without hurting myself.
Woe be to the impractical.
Later that night, I went to bend down and felt the beginnings of what could've been severe muscle tearage in my lower back. I immediately stopped moving and only sort of fucked up my back. I managed to get some sleep, strangely waking up in near-perfect 30-minute increments. The next day my back was just sore, but after walking around for five hours my legs were close to falling off. Today, the pain has now traveled to my upper gluteus, meaning two things: this isn't a spinal injury (whew!), and it feels like someone kicked me in the ass with a bulldozer trowel.
This isn't the first time this kind of thing has happened, and it occurs at random moments. The last time it happened I was bending over and a sharp, stabbing pain hit my back so badly I had to crawl to a chair and hyperventilate. It was not fun. It also sucks because it never occurs when I'm actually straining myself, only when I'm just bending down. Fortunately, it doesn't happen often.
But enough about my boo-boo sissy fit. Not much else has gone on since my last post. It's stopped raining. I've moved on to playing Afro Samurai after unlocking enough achievements in Resident Evil 5 to shut me up. Afro is based on the anime series that Samuel L. Jackson has stuck his dick into, a combination of Samurai Champloo and Ninja Scroll that lacks any, if all, reasoning. I liked the anime, and after seeing the game's price drop $20 at Gamestop I squelched. Then I noticed that Target clearanced it out for the same price, so, hey, I bought some Afro Samurai. Thus far, it's proven to be Ninja Gaiden gameplay with Prince of Persia graphics, with hip-hop sounds laying out the entire game. This sounds likes a good thing, but after a few hours of gameplay it runs between simplicity (enemies are constantly respawning), to fucking insanely upsetting (nobody told me how to throw people, ever). It also loosely follows the same story as the anime, so there's few surprises here. But since I've yet to beat it, I can't in good conscience go on bitching.
"Blah blah Carter's reviewing shit again, blah-dee-blah."
And so I'm off to go watch some TV.
-C.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
Aftershock.
So it's been a solid week since my escape. And thus far, it's still effective. I passed all my classes, paid off my bursar, and walked the walk. I have no idea if OSU have any tricks up their sleeve, as they're prone to occasionally screw with me. Let us all hope not, or wrath will ensue.
I don't feel different.
And so there have been a few things going on lately.
1. I beat 50 Cent: Blood On The Sand.
This game was a reluctant purchase, as I'd heard both good and bad about it. It's the equivalent of Gears of War with 50 Cent music playing throughout the entire thing. There's also a variety of five bad guys: terrorist in red shirt, terrorist in yellow shirt, terrorist in blue shirt, vehicle, and helicopter. The concept itself is frightfully stupid, but it's fun enough to warrant a playthrough. Fun fact: I netted 225 Achievement Points in 15 minutes. So yeah, it's okay. Just not worth having its own blog post.
2. The Wolverine movie was a letdown.
And yet nobody in their right mind should be that surprised. But the one thing that totally derailed the entire thing was how they treated Deadpool. I won't spoil much, but they pretty much didn't read any Deadpool comics. He's a character that's supposed to wise-ass around and shoot things with guns, and well... yup. Not quite so in film. On the bright side, they managed not to screw up Gambit. Everything else was lukewarm, as the writers cobbled together enough Wolverine backstory to make a movie out of it. I went into this expecting the third X-Men movie, quality-wise, and it was about on par with that. Meh.
3. The Star Trek movie looks interesting.
I only say this because I am not a Star Trek fan. I know little to nothing about it, and I hate spaceship stories (like Fantastic Four, to some degree). This is sometimes fun because my friends at the comic store are Trekkies and always seem to tell me stuff about it that I don't give a shit about. However, this movie looks amusing enough because it appears to have some serious action going on with it. I dunno. I may just wait until it's on DVD.
4. I'm so goddamned sick of rain.
If I were to put a number on it, I'd say it's rained about 46 days in the past week. What sucks is that, in typical Oklahoma fashion, the weather is constantly pulling 180's and for every 6 hours of rain, there's 12 hours of sunshine. So it's never one state. I wouldn't mind so much if I knew that the rain and dreariness wasn't messing up my Internet where I have problems downloading stuff. Also, hail sucks. Fuck you, weather.
Welp.
-C.
I don't feel different.
And so there have been a few things going on lately.
1. I beat 50 Cent: Blood On The Sand.
This game was a reluctant purchase, as I'd heard both good and bad about it. It's the equivalent of Gears of War with 50 Cent music playing throughout the entire thing. There's also a variety of five bad guys: terrorist in red shirt, terrorist in yellow shirt, terrorist in blue shirt, vehicle, and helicopter. The concept itself is frightfully stupid, but it's fun enough to warrant a playthrough. Fun fact: I netted 225 Achievement Points in 15 minutes. So yeah, it's okay. Just not worth having its own blog post.
2. The Wolverine movie was a letdown.
And yet nobody in their right mind should be that surprised. But the one thing that totally derailed the entire thing was how they treated Deadpool. I won't spoil much, but they pretty much didn't read any Deadpool comics. He's a character that's supposed to wise-ass around and shoot things with guns, and well... yup. Not quite so in film. On the bright side, they managed not to screw up Gambit. Everything else was lukewarm, as the writers cobbled together enough Wolverine backstory to make a movie out of it. I went into this expecting the third X-Men movie, quality-wise, and it was about on par with that. Meh.
3. The Star Trek movie looks interesting.
I only say this because I am not a Star Trek fan. I know little to nothing about it, and I hate spaceship stories (like Fantastic Four, to some degree). This is sometimes fun because my friends at the comic store are Trekkies and always seem to tell me stuff about it that I don't give a shit about. However, this movie looks amusing enough because it appears to have some serious action going on with it. I dunno. I may just wait until it's on DVD.
4. I'm so goddamned sick of rain.
If I were to put a number on it, I'd say it's rained about 46 days in the past week. What sucks is that, in typical Oklahoma fashion, the weather is constantly pulling 180's and for every 6 hours of rain, there's 12 hours of sunshine. So it's never one state. I wouldn't mind so much if I knew that the rain and dreariness wasn't messing up my Internet where I have problems downloading stuff. Also, hail sucks. Fuck you, weather.
Welp.
-C.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Happy Ending.
As I start this post, I'm reminded of an off-beat sketch from Robot Chicken where a guy is finishing up at an Asian massage parlor and the female masseuse offers him a "happy ending." He politely declines, and the insistence that he gets one becomes so chaotic he flees from the manic woman. The chase continues into the streets, as cries of "HAPPY ENDING?!" are belted out. The guy eventually falls down a flight of stairs, seemingly breaking his legs and trapping him in a corner. The woman reaches her prey, only to reveal the happy ending - "You get one free egg roll. Happy ending." And then the man sighs with relief, broken and battered.
This is the metaphor for my college career.
It's hard to imagine that it all started six years ago. The reasons it took an extra couple of years to get this far was A.) I changed my major within the first year, B.) I didn't have any genuine guidance throughout college (save one good advisor that lasted a year), and C.) I grew into a procrastinating, lazy shit. I'm not to say it's impossible to get a degree in less than four year's time, and good job for those that do, but I didn't really care to bust that much ass over it. After all, it's only college, right?
What's sad is that I remember little of the first three years, or as I like to call it, TCC. Unlike about every other smarty pants I knew in high school, I didn't have dreams of leaving home and moving into a university, or dreams of campus life and frats and parties and underage delinquency, or paying thousands of dollars for basic education courses. I was quite comfy to settle for community college. I set down that path and watched as the other smart kids went to OSU, OU, NSU, and so forth. Some managed to be dedicated enough to their cause to graduate, while others drifted back out because they didn't realize that in order to stay in school, they actually had to go to class after the parties.
TCC mystified me, as up until then I rarely ventured into Tulsa on my own. To make matters less appealing, the two campuses I had to attend were located in less than savory parts of town. One sat snug amid the one-way hedge mazes of Downtown, while the other settled in the northiest part of North Tulsa, or OklaWatts. I was eighteen, skinny, quiet, dorky, sober, and lost.
Within a couple weeks I managed to trap my truck between vehicles in the parking lot, start a trend of getting begged for money by transients AND attract a homosexual. These were not the bumpkin schools I knew.
At first, my goal in life was to become a zoologist, but seeing as how I have the mathmatical skills of a stop sign, I realized that was out of the picture. So I went with what I knew - art. Hey, I already knew how to draw, so how easy could this be? As it turned out, TCC only liked to teach people who didn't know how to draw, and boredom quickly set in. Twice a week I was forced to draw random inanimate objects set in odd ways - a draped blanket, a kettle, some kind of horn, a vase - or had to look out the window and draw the intricately gothic Boston Avenue Church. The monotony was so severe I began creatively twisting these pieces into false realities. Underpants gnomes dug along the objects with pickaxes, or witches would fly their brooms in circles around the church as lightning clasped in the sky. My teacher grew irritated with these fabrications, and questioned if that's really what I saw. I'd say yes, and by the end of my first year I realized my innate talent had no home at TCC. I spent most of my time playing Street Fighter III in the arcade and playing billiards by myself to improve my left-handed skills, which to this day are all but improved.
Fortuantely, I drew inspiration from an unlikely source: English class. My teacher, Ms. Benford, was a no-nonsense black woman in her late fifties who had a knack for making an otherwise boring subject useful. It was the first time I had taken an English class somewhat seriously, and her appraisal of my writing caused me to reconsider my profession. I knew being an English major wouldn't get me far with what I wanted, so I checked in to the school of Journalism & Broadcast. Hey, maybe I could write articles and editorials.
By the end of my second year at TCC, I realized that I wasn't going to be a news reporter. This was despite the fact that News Writing became one of my favorite classes. It was taught by Tulsa World reporter Jason Collington, whose method was to give us articles to read for the following week and discuss them. When I admitted that I couldn't read through the entire thing, he'd deliver his lesson - that was the point, that it was a crappy article and nobody could sit and read the whole thing anyway. Midway through the semester the class boiled down to just me and one other guy, but Jason continued teaching the class with a more leisurely pace. I DID learn something from him: awful work shouldn't be appreciated.
Fortunately, the journalism program starts off slow, giving a basic rundown of the four parts - news writing, broadcast, advertising, and public relations. I had already lost my desire to write news, I didn't want to be Ron Burgundy, and at the time I felt that PR was just figuratively giving stuff handjobs. Advertising, it seemed, afforded me the best option, as I could use my artistic talent AND my newfound desire to write creative stuff in that field. So it was decided... I was going to be an advertisement major.
Little else can be remembered about my journalism days at TCC, save a few names. My final semester gave me little option but to attend the infamous Southeast Campus, all the way across Tulsa and so close to Broken Arrow that I could smell the snobby kids. I dreaded traveling down the highway to get to it, but once I got there I was floored. It was immaculate compared to the other campuses, hanging over a man-made lake that was viewable through a well-adorned arcade, complete with Capcom vs. SNK 2, Soul Calibur, and more pool tables. Also, it was only a mile from 71st Street, which is essentially shopping central. This was also the place where I created my first comic series since high school. A huge air had been lifted over my head and I felt freedom. My travel phobia disappeared, and I was sad that I could only spend a few months there before I was awarded an Associate's Degree, or as my family calls it, not a Bachelor's. I unceremoniously walked away from TCC, happy.
With the beckoning of all those around me, I reluctantly chose to continue my "education" at OSU-Tulsa. This particular breed of OSU worked just fine with me, as it offered all the upper-level ad classes I needed to get a Bachelor's. It also meant I didn't have to go to Stillwater... yet. But it didn't take long for me to feel the backhand of OSU's system. I had to jump numerous hoops to get in, and it didn't help that my first advisor was anything but one. It also didn't help that my introduction into OSU's journalism program was met with utter failure - I couldn't pass Media Law to save my ass. What was interesting was that the ad classes were connected together with the same group of students. By my second year there, I had joined the ranks of the 2008 ad students, making good friends. Which worked since practically all my high school friends had fallen off the face of the earth, until stuff like Myspace and Facebook showed up. I was now part of a group, but that only lasted until last year, when almost all of them graduated. I was left behind, and had to settle for hanging with the public relations students. Fortunately, they turned out to be a swell bunch. As did the marketing group, as advertising and marketing were clumped together on occasion.
This spring, I repeated history by traveling to a far, distant land to finish up my degree. Unlike Southeast Campus, which was surrounded by fun, I went to Stillwater, which is surrounded by a different fun. A fun I was too damn old for, like wearing OSU T-shirts and joining every conceivable group imaginable. It was as if high school had mutated into a self-sufficient city. Now, I'm 24, and I felt like a cranky old man trudging along the campus - "Why is everything so far? Quit writing on the sidewalks! Stop setting up booths, you'll ruin the grass! Why do I have to pay two bucks for a Dr. Pepper? This sucks." Even the arcade sucked. At least the PR class I took there was enjoyable. As were the bus rides, which let me sleep and catch up on my podcasts. But unlike Southeast, I won't miss Stillwater.
And thus, here I is. I even pulled off the impossible and passed Media Law (thanks in part to the law lady teacher, who was easy on both curriculum and looks... giggle).
For the past few months, I've been consistently asked if I'm excited to be done. Excited being the only word they use. But to be honest, I don't feel excited. I feel exhausted, relieved, and ready for a goddamned nap. I feel like a marathon runner who got talked into it by his buddies, someone who knows how to run but isn't in the exact shape for it. And after running thirty miles in one day, they reach the finish line. Everyone's there, cheering and congratulating him, and he can't do or say anything because he's too tired. Then someone out of the crowd comes up and acknowledges him. "Happy ending?" they ask.
The guy smiles, and lazily lifts his arm and flashes everyone a thumbs-up. "Yeah, dude." Then he gets drove home to rest.
I cannot say I won't miss this. I have been in some kind of school system since I was five, so the change will be pretty deep in a few months when I'll realize I'm never going to have to do this shit ever, ever again. What's amazing to me is the amount of stuff I got out of it all - a love and talent for writing, semi-social skills (I'm still a homebody at heart), a love for driving around and doing whatever, some vague concept of the Japanese language (which I took my first year at TCC), enjoyment of playing pool, being able to drive in the ghetto and not get scared, good friends, and well, probably more that will set in over time.
But I am soooooo glad it's over.
-C.
This is the metaphor for my college career.
It's hard to imagine that it all started six years ago. The reasons it took an extra couple of years to get this far was A.) I changed my major within the first year, B.) I didn't have any genuine guidance throughout college (save one good advisor that lasted a year), and C.) I grew into a procrastinating, lazy shit. I'm not to say it's impossible to get a degree in less than four year's time, and good job for those that do, but I didn't really care to bust that much ass over it. After all, it's only college, right?
What's sad is that I remember little of the first three years, or as I like to call it, TCC. Unlike about every other smarty pants I knew in high school, I didn't have dreams of leaving home and moving into a university, or dreams of campus life and frats and parties and underage delinquency, or paying thousands of dollars for basic education courses. I was quite comfy to settle for community college. I set down that path and watched as the other smart kids went to OSU, OU, NSU, and so forth. Some managed to be dedicated enough to their cause to graduate, while others drifted back out because they didn't realize that in order to stay in school, they actually had to go to class after the parties.
TCC mystified me, as up until then I rarely ventured into Tulsa on my own. To make matters less appealing, the two campuses I had to attend were located in less than savory parts of town. One sat snug amid the one-way hedge mazes of Downtown, while the other settled in the northiest part of North Tulsa, or OklaWatts. I was eighteen, skinny, quiet, dorky, sober, and lost.
Within a couple weeks I managed to trap my truck between vehicles in the parking lot, start a trend of getting begged for money by transients AND attract a homosexual. These were not the bumpkin schools I knew.
At first, my goal in life was to become a zoologist, but seeing as how I have the mathmatical skills of a stop sign, I realized that was out of the picture. So I went with what I knew - art. Hey, I already knew how to draw, so how easy could this be? As it turned out, TCC only liked to teach people who didn't know how to draw, and boredom quickly set in. Twice a week I was forced to draw random inanimate objects set in odd ways - a draped blanket, a kettle, some kind of horn, a vase - or had to look out the window and draw the intricately gothic Boston Avenue Church. The monotony was so severe I began creatively twisting these pieces into false realities. Underpants gnomes dug along the objects with pickaxes, or witches would fly their brooms in circles around the church as lightning clasped in the sky. My teacher grew irritated with these fabrications, and questioned if that's really what I saw. I'd say yes, and by the end of my first year I realized my innate talent had no home at TCC. I spent most of my time playing Street Fighter III in the arcade and playing billiards by myself to improve my left-handed skills, which to this day are all but improved.
Fortuantely, I drew inspiration from an unlikely source: English class. My teacher, Ms. Benford, was a no-nonsense black woman in her late fifties who had a knack for making an otherwise boring subject useful. It was the first time I had taken an English class somewhat seriously, and her appraisal of my writing caused me to reconsider my profession. I knew being an English major wouldn't get me far with what I wanted, so I checked in to the school of Journalism & Broadcast. Hey, maybe I could write articles and editorials.
By the end of my second year at TCC, I realized that I wasn't going to be a news reporter. This was despite the fact that News Writing became one of my favorite classes. It was taught by Tulsa World reporter Jason Collington, whose method was to give us articles to read for the following week and discuss them. When I admitted that I couldn't read through the entire thing, he'd deliver his lesson - that was the point, that it was a crappy article and nobody could sit and read the whole thing anyway. Midway through the semester the class boiled down to just me and one other guy, but Jason continued teaching the class with a more leisurely pace. I DID learn something from him: awful work shouldn't be appreciated.
Fortunately, the journalism program starts off slow, giving a basic rundown of the four parts - news writing, broadcast, advertising, and public relations. I had already lost my desire to write news, I didn't want to be Ron Burgundy, and at the time I felt that PR was just figuratively giving stuff handjobs. Advertising, it seemed, afforded me the best option, as I could use my artistic talent AND my newfound desire to write creative stuff in that field. So it was decided... I was going to be an advertisement major.
Little else can be remembered about my journalism days at TCC, save a few names. My final semester gave me little option but to attend the infamous Southeast Campus, all the way across Tulsa and so close to Broken Arrow that I could smell the snobby kids. I dreaded traveling down the highway to get to it, but once I got there I was floored. It was immaculate compared to the other campuses, hanging over a man-made lake that was viewable through a well-adorned arcade, complete with Capcom vs. SNK 2, Soul Calibur, and more pool tables. Also, it was only a mile from 71st Street, which is essentially shopping central. This was also the place where I created my first comic series since high school. A huge air had been lifted over my head and I felt freedom. My travel phobia disappeared, and I was sad that I could only spend a few months there before I was awarded an Associate's Degree, or as my family calls it, not a Bachelor's. I unceremoniously walked away from TCC, happy.
With the beckoning of all those around me, I reluctantly chose to continue my "education" at OSU-Tulsa. This particular breed of OSU worked just fine with me, as it offered all the upper-level ad classes I needed to get a Bachelor's. It also meant I didn't have to go to Stillwater... yet. But it didn't take long for me to feel the backhand of OSU's system. I had to jump numerous hoops to get in, and it didn't help that my first advisor was anything but one. It also didn't help that my introduction into OSU's journalism program was met with utter failure - I couldn't pass Media Law to save my ass. What was interesting was that the ad classes were connected together with the same group of students. By my second year there, I had joined the ranks of the 2008 ad students, making good friends. Which worked since practically all my high school friends had fallen off the face of the earth, until stuff like Myspace and Facebook showed up. I was now part of a group, but that only lasted until last year, when almost all of them graduated. I was left behind, and had to settle for hanging with the public relations students. Fortunately, they turned out to be a swell bunch. As did the marketing group, as advertising and marketing were clumped together on occasion.
This spring, I repeated history by traveling to a far, distant land to finish up my degree. Unlike Southeast Campus, which was surrounded by fun, I went to Stillwater, which is surrounded by a different fun. A fun I was too damn old for, like wearing OSU T-shirts and joining every conceivable group imaginable. It was as if high school had mutated into a self-sufficient city. Now, I'm 24, and I felt like a cranky old man trudging along the campus - "Why is everything so far? Quit writing on the sidewalks! Stop setting up booths, you'll ruin the grass! Why do I have to pay two bucks for a Dr. Pepper? This sucks." Even the arcade sucked. At least the PR class I took there was enjoyable. As were the bus rides, which let me sleep and catch up on my podcasts. But unlike Southeast, I won't miss Stillwater.
And thus, here I is. I even pulled off the impossible and passed Media Law (thanks in part to the law lady teacher, who was easy on both curriculum and looks... giggle).
For the past few months, I've been consistently asked if I'm excited to be done. Excited being the only word they use. But to be honest, I don't feel excited. I feel exhausted, relieved, and ready for a goddamned nap. I feel like a marathon runner who got talked into it by his buddies, someone who knows how to run but isn't in the exact shape for it. And after running thirty miles in one day, they reach the finish line. Everyone's there, cheering and congratulating him, and he can't do or say anything because he's too tired. Then someone out of the crowd comes up and acknowledges him. "Happy ending?" they ask.
The guy smiles, and lazily lifts his arm and flashes everyone a thumbs-up. "Yeah, dude." Then he gets drove home to rest.
I cannot say I won't miss this. I have been in some kind of school system since I was five, so the change will be pretty deep in a few months when I'll realize I'm never going to have to do this shit ever, ever again. What's amazing to me is the amount of stuff I got out of it all - a love and talent for writing, semi-social skills (I'm still a homebody at heart), a love for driving around and doing whatever, some vague concept of the Japanese language (which I took my first year at TCC), enjoyment of playing pool, being able to drive in the ghetto and not get scared, good friends, and well, probably more that will set in over time.
But I am soooooo glad it's over.
-C.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Resident Evil Fiver.
I'm not the biggest shooter fan. Halo 3 was fun for an hour, Gears of War 2 and Army of Two were only fun on co-op, I disliked Half-Life 2 (whuh-oh!), and those like Bioshock, The Darkness and Portal were only interesting and loved by me because they showed off incredible elements that warranted at least a play-through. But even the better shooters can only do that much for me, and $60 a pop is pretty steep for 10-12 hours of aiming at stuff.
Resident Evil, as a series, never interested me. I hate being spooked, and shooting zombies in a haunted house isn't appealing to me. Even the pants-enoculating RE4, which practically every single gaming journalist wanked off on, hardly budged me into buying into it. And now it's on almost every damn system. And then Capcom announced RE5. And the initial screens and video erupted a shitstorm of speculation and controversy.
This is a typical scene in the first half of the game. This was but one of many examples of what RE5 was going to be. In Africa, in broad daylight, in the community of such-and-such town that has been infected with zombie disease.
It goes to say this wasn't the typical theme in Resident Evil. Daylight, I mean. Most RE games are set at night or in corridors limiting one's movement and tactics. This is coming from someone who's never touched the previous RE games, so take that for what you will. But what struck me as odd was the jittery response to the enemies. Most are African, black males, with some scattered lighter-toned, possibly Arabic folk. It's a popular RE theme that anything in a 20-mile radius of the setting of the game is a zombie. Dogs, lizards, spiders, alligators, and yes, even Africans in Africa. I am not surprised. But the gaming community buzzed about with fingers pointing and loud whispers of "racism" uttered. Everywhere. On podcasts, in editorials, in schlock gaming news and elsewhere.
According to many game publications, this was standard gameplay in Resident Evil 5. Note the embargo on main character Chris Redfield's bunny outfit was broken. Like our hearts.
This blather went on before the game could even be played, and even then the demo, which was one of the first levels, didn't help much. People were more concerned with the racial implications than the game itself. Nobody worried about graphics, controls, gameplay, difficulty, nothing. If anything, some said "Oh, it's Resident Evil 4. But listen to us bitch about the setting and how this could be interpreted...!" and so on.
Here's what I think. I think I'll play through the game and decide that for myself.
So I did.
In the first hour RE5 gives you every idea you need to have to play the game. You're given a traditional AI partner, in this case Sheva Alomar.
Protip: If you can't stop staring at Sheva's ass, the zombie monsters will get you.
What surprised me is how much I didn't have to babysit Sheva throughout most of the game. I mainly designated her as the medic, dumping off healing items on her while I could concentrate on dispatching enemies in more elaborate ways. The AI buddy will usually pot-shot around and hold their own against most enemies anyway. Also, I never had to do what I feared this game would force upon me: escort her around like Helen Keller through a Nickelodeon gameshow obstacle course.
I suppose Sheva's AI self-sufficiency spoiled me, because when I went to play split-screen co-op, my friend Cooper was all but useless. It mostly had to do with my generosity in offering him weapons I upgraded so he wouldn't start so weakly. He whined about starting from scratch. RE5 doesn't offer do-overs, so I had to load another profile so he'd shut the hell up. Then he would swindle all the ammo, leaving me in the dust. RE5's co-op only works if you and your friend can get along. And since the game graciously doesn't offer co-op specific achievements, that won't be a problem. For me.
To counter the speculation that RE5 isn't racist, the game jumps into more traditional fare about 2/3rds into the game. Not to spoil much, but you do get out of the villages and swamps, and you do fight more than transformed citizens. It does get a bit ridiculous when some enemies wield spears and decorative masks, but it's no more questionable than Indiana Jones. Frankly, I would be more upset if Capcom pussed out and made all the enemies white, or if the enemies had cartoon thought bubbles depicting KFC and watermelons floating over their heads as they chased you down. So yeah, it does change gears later on in the game, and it isn't intentionally racist. It's only a matter of playing the game and seeing it for oneself. And game journalists should just stick to telling us if it's good or not.
Is RE5 good? Yes. The graphics are epically grand, despite the monotone greens, yellows, and browns coloring the landscape. Controls are a bit weird at first, but become used to after a while. What people will likely (and have) bitch about the inability to run and shoot at the same time. Fortunately, this isn't really an issue as the pace is equally stop-n-go. My only gripe control-wise is the Simon Says button smashing sequences littering the cutscenes can be a pain and distract from the action. The inventory system is slightly jacked, but is less a concern if one can learn to shoot and conserve ammo.
One interesting point is the exploitation of the money system in the game. Some sites have videos showcasing various tips on earning cash to upgrading weapons, which when maxed out can become gifted with infinite ammo, which eases the game further. I have my tricks, which postponed my beating the game but eased my potty mouth.
If RE5 is indeed just a transposition of RE4, I must be missing out on something. Because RE5 is good. The pacing is steady and linear, the exploits useful, the AI hottie also useful, and the story ridiculously silly. I would, as usual, say that this game is even more purchaseable if it were cheaper. And hopefully now that the game has been out for a while, anyone talking about it would stop pulling the race card out.
-C.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Well, Yes, It's Another Update.
I guess I'm going for some kind of procrastination record, as I've gotten too lazy to even write about stuff or *gasp* review stuff. Such is life. I almost considered throwing my truck in the trash until it was fixed proper for the problem it had. I think my inability to travel in my own comfy vehicle has somehow screwed up my sense of time and place. Hence, putting stuff off.
I beat Banjo-Kazooie: Nuts & Bolts to the point where it said I had beaten it, but I know better. One can reach the final challenges with 75 puzzle pieces, but there are 131 in total. My enjoyment of the game began to wane around 60, so going after twice as many wasn't going to win me over. Mind you, I like the game, but some of the missions became more frustrating than necessary for a non-Japanese game. I don't expect my balls coddled by games in general anyway. However, the idea of repeating a simple "race to the finish line" challenge ten or so times when it's as blatant as "drive in a circle really fast" gets old.
But right now I'm kind of pissed of at Xbox 360s. Cooper got Xbox Live, my ticket into getting some well-needed updates. My first trip included my console, where I successfully downloaded Super Street Fighter II Turbo HD Remix. Oh boy, it's awesome. Until I bring it home and realize I forgot my only controller. So yesterday I traveled back armed with only my hard drive, believing this was the only necessity for getting assorted things off of Live. with my remaining points I purchased a costume pack for SFIV and some Samurai Shodown gamerpics. When I got home last night, apparently my downloadable content save on SFIV is "corrupted." In other words, no costumes in SFIV when I play on my own system. I've yet to test whether I A.) need access to Live to get this stuff (implausible), or B.) actually have to download the shit with my own console instead of from another's. I'd read somewhere that one needs to use their own console for keeping content, but it seemed insane. I'm not so much pissed off as I am irritated - pissed off would be if I couldn't access my $15 game. But it looks like I'm out the Microsoft equivalent of around five bucks, and that's pretty dumb. I've also yet to test my other games that received free downloads, like Guitar Hero III and Prince of Persia, but I don't expect any better results.
Still, I got SSF2THDR. Again, sweeeeeet.
On the PSP side, I bought Prinny: Can I Really Be The Hero? It's essentially a Mario-esque platformer starring the explosive penguins from the Disgaea series. For me, not a tough sell, especially when they pack it with an otaku soundtrack disc. Much to my dismay, Prinny is a hit-or-miss game. It takes a tried system of gameplay and basically botches it with floaty controls (good luck with jumping) and a difficulty system influenced by an in-game clock. I wasn't aware of this and became so frustrated with the mechanics I caused a overly churchy co-worker to gasp in amazement after uttering "fuck" during a break. Followed by "shit." She threatened that I'd have to put money in a cuss jar, but I informed her that it wouldn't be necessary as I was not ten years old. Hey, I don't enjoy getting pissed off at games either, lady, but as Lewis Black would relate, what AM I supposed to say? Pussyfeathers? Sassafrass? Grow up into the 21st century. There are Youtube videos where cats meow "fuck" readily available. Or if not, there should be.
I'm off-topic. Prinny would be good if NIS America continued making turn-based strategy games instead of experimenting with wanky platformers. enough said.
The weather has become more erratic the last few days. It snowed over the weekend, then melted and the sun shone for a good day, then mild hail and thunderstorms last night. As of today, it's a decent 55 degrees and sunny. I'm expecting frogs to fall out of the sky before the week's over.
So enjoy yourselves, sip something alcoholic, go download some Adam Carolla podcast, and have a wonderful whatever until I get back on here. That is, if anyone actually reads this damn thing.
-C.
I beat Banjo-Kazooie: Nuts & Bolts to the point where it said I had beaten it, but I know better. One can reach the final challenges with 75 puzzle pieces, but there are 131 in total. My enjoyment of the game began to wane around 60, so going after twice as many wasn't going to win me over. Mind you, I like the game, but some of the missions became more frustrating than necessary for a non-Japanese game. I don't expect my balls coddled by games in general anyway. However, the idea of repeating a simple "race to the finish line" challenge ten or so times when it's as blatant as "drive in a circle really fast" gets old.
But right now I'm kind of pissed of at Xbox 360s. Cooper got Xbox Live, my ticket into getting some well-needed updates. My first trip included my console, where I successfully downloaded Super Street Fighter II Turbo HD Remix. Oh boy, it's awesome. Until I bring it home and realize I forgot my only controller. So yesterday I traveled back armed with only my hard drive, believing this was the only necessity for getting assorted things off of Live. with my remaining points I purchased a costume pack for SFIV and some Samurai Shodown gamerpics. When I got home last night, apparently my downloadable content save on SFIV is "corrupted." In other words, no costumes in SFIV when I play on my own system. I've yet to test whether I A.) need access to Live to get this stuff (implausible), or B.) actually have to download the shit with my own console instead of from another's. I'd read somewhere that one needs to use their own console for keeping content, but it seemed insane. I'm not so much pissed off as I am irritated - pissed off would be if I couldn't access my $15 game. But it looks like I'm out the Microsoft equivalent of around five bucks, and that's pretty dumb. I've also yet to test my other games that received free downloads, like Guitar Hero III and Prince of Persia, but I don't expect any better results.
Still, I got SSF2THDR. Again, sweeeeeet.
On the PSP side, I bought Prinny: Can I Really Be The Hero? It's essentially a Mario-esque platformer starring the explosive penguins from the Disgaea series. For me, not a tough sell, especially when they pack it with an otaku soundtrack disc. Much to my dismay, Prinny is a hit-or-miss game. It takes a tried system of gameplay and basically botches it with floaty controls (good luck with jumping) and a difficulty system influenced by an in-game clock. I wasn't aware of this and became so frustrated with the mechanics I caused a overly churchy co-worker to gasp in amazement after uttering "fuck" during a break. Followed by "shit." She threatened that I'd have to put money in a cuss jar, but I informed her that it wouldn't be necessary as I was not ten years old. Hey, I don't enjoy getting pissed off at games either, lady, but as Lewis Black would relate, what AM I supposed to say? Pussyfeathers? Sassafrass? Grow up into the 21st century. There are Youtube videos where cats meow "fuck" readily available. Or if not, there should be.
I'm off-topic. Prinny would be good if NIS America continued making turn-based strategy games instead of experimenting with wanky platformers. enough said.
The weather has become more erratic the last few days. It snowed over the weekend, then melted and the sun shone for a good day, then mild hail and thunderstorms last night. As of today, it's a decent 55 degrees and sunny. I'm expecting frogs to fall out of the sky before the week's over.
So enjoy yourselves, sip something alcoholic, go download some Adam Carolla podcast, and have a wonderful whatever until I get back on here. That is, if anyone actually reads this damn thing.
-C.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
What To Do...
I'm halfway into my final semester ever in college. It's daunting and manic. I'm just wanting to be done with it all, much like I was that first week at TCC, over six years ago when I thought I could breeze through with an art degree. Right. So the question I'm asking myself now is, what am I going to do over spring break?
I went through my bouts in both SF4 and MK vs. DC. From my last blog, it's obvious which one got the most love. But all fighting games suffer from having little replay value once all unlockables have been retrieved. Oh, I could try and get some more achievements in MK, if only it didn't require such lengthy runs through the arcade more. Or I could beat my ass into submission by trying to be uber-awesome at SF4, but I'd rather pull toenails out than attempt to get a 10-pointer for doing those awful challenge mode objectives. No thanks.
So then I bought Banjo-Kazooie: Nuts & Bolts. For $40, it's a solid game, and I'd never owned a Banjo game before. (Long ago, I had played the first one at Cooper's house, briefly, as he was too goddamned stingy to let either Roller or me play it for long. The greedy prick now makes fun of me for having a game that he would've loved all those years ago.) What strikes me as odd is how frustrating some of the challenges are, considering the demographic it's aiming for. Gears of War this is not. And I can only stomach a couple hours at a time before I get tired of collecting puzzle pieces and otherwise fucking around trying to get the (all-too-easy) achievements. It's a good game, but somewhat derivative of the platform formula, no matter how many vehicle-based objectives it has.
I have other games I could mettle with, particularly DS games. I still haven't finished the Sonic RPG, and I bought Izuna 2 thinking that I somehow needed it. Methinks they'll get the summer treatment, especially if I go on trips.
That leaves me with the question: What next? I had heard generally mixed response to Resident Evil 5, which is almost scary as it's the first RE I've had any real interest in playing. Previous entries seemed too "peek-n-poke" for my tastes, and I'm really not into frightening shit as it is. But the enviroment of the game (Africa!) lends itself to promise more than just zombies in a spookhouse. I'd also heard remarkable praise for the new 50 Cent game, which became more of "it's not great but playable enough that you'll like how ridiculous it is." These are the kind of attitudes that led me to buy Banjo, but I'm sick of paying $60 for brand-new games so it may wait. Natually, Cooper heartily objected to my 50 Cent purchase proposal, but his reasonings were racist so I pretty much ignored him. Who knows which one will make the cut as next game. Seeing as how I'm currently counting my cash feverishly, it will likely be a while.
The next question will be whether or not I trek to Kansas for a few days. My truck is on suicide watch as it has refused to start up on two seperate occasions, both on mornings that I need to be somewhere quickly. As of now, it's in "fixed" mode, but the poor thing has certainly seen better days. But I feel after the onslaught of bad luck I've been stepping in lately, I could use the trip.
Despite the bad luck, good fortune seems to set in at random times. Imagine my shock when a fresh copy of Minghags showed up yesterday at my house. This was a movie I had waited a year for, thinking it was merely a fluke to kill my boner. And now I have the sequel to my favorite movie, Haggard. So, is it worth it? Yes. Is it as good as Haggard? Well, yes and no. As it is, Minghags is about as ridiculous as Haggard with a bigger budget. The only thing I can solemnly gripe about is that they had intended to make it PG-13 at one point, and it sometimes shows. I could've stood to hear more swearing and scatalogical humor, and the absence of Raab Himself shows. I find this unfair since I've set Haggard on such a high bar to surpass. The greatness certainly outweighs the meh, though, as people like Mark the Bagger and Lord Bottaro make welcome additions to the main cast of Bam's flick. But with the recent turns that Bam, Dunn, and Dico have made with their lives, I doubt we'll ever see another movie like Minghags or Haggard. And Where The #$&% Is Santa? doesn't exactly count since it's more of a glorified, 90-minute Viva La Bam episode than a film. Not that it's bad, but it's not the same.
So enjoy yourselves and have a fun, safe spring break. Go look online for Adam Carolla's podcast, because that's the best thing to hit the 'Net in a while. And don't shit the bed.
-C.
I went through my bouts in both SF4 and MK vs. DC. From my last blog, it's obvious which one got the most love. But all fighting games suffer from having little replay value once all unlockables have been retrieved. Oh, I could try and get some more achievements in MK, if only it didn't require such lengthy runs through the arcade more. Or I could beat my ass into submission by trying to be uber-awesome at SF4, but I'd rather pull toenails out than attempt to get a 10-pointer for doing those awful challenge mode objectives. No thanks.
So then I bought Banjo-Kazooie: Nuts & Bolts. For $40, it's a solid game, and I'd never owned a Banjo game before. (Long ago, I had played the first one at Cooper's house, briefly, as he was too goddamned stingy to let either Roller or me play it for long. The greedy prick now makes fun of me for having a game that he would've loved all those years ago.) What strikes me as odd is how frustrating some of the challenges are, considering the demographic it's aiming for. Gears of War this is not. And I can only stomach a couple hours at a time before I get tired of collecting puzzle pieces and otherwise fucking around trying to get the (all-too-easy) achievements. It's a good game, but somewhat derivative of the platform formula, no matter how many vehicle-based objectives it has.
I have other games I could mettle with, particularly DS games. I still haven't finished the Sonic RPG, and I bought Izuna 2 thinking that I somehow needed it. Methinks they'll get the summer treatment, especially if I go on trips.
That leaves me with the question: What next? I had heard generally mixed response to Resident Evil 5, which is almost scary as it's the first RE I've had any real interest in playing. Previous entries seemed too "peek-n-poke" for my tastes, and I'm really not into frightening shit as it is. But the enviroment of the game (Africa!) lends itself to promise more than just zombies in a spookhouse. I'd also heard remarkable praise for the new 50 Cent game, which became more of "it's not great but playable enough that you'll like how ridiculous it is." These are the kind of attitudes that led me to buy Banjo, but I'm sick of paying $60 for brand-new games so it may wait. Natually, Cooper heartily objected to my 50 Cent purchase proposal, but his reasonings were racist so I pretty much ignored him. Who knows which one will make the cut as next game. Seeing as how I'm currently counting my cash feverishly, it will likely be a while.
The next question will be whether or not I trek to Kansas for a few days. My truck is on suicide watch as it has refused to start up on two seperate occasions, both on mornings that I need to be somewhere quickly. As of now, it's in "fixed" mode, but the poor thing has certainly seen better days. But I feel after the onslaught of bad luck I've been stepping in lately, I could use the trip.
Despite the bad luck, good fortune seems to set in at random times. Imagine my shock when a fresh copy of Minghags showed up yesterday at my house. This was a movie I had waited a year for, thinking it was merely a fluke to kill my boner. And now I have the sequel to my favorite movie, Haggard. So, is it worth it? Yes. Is it as good as Haggard? Well, yes and no. As it is, Minghags is about as ridiculous as Haggard with a bigger budget. The only thing I can solemnly gripe about is that they had intended to make it PG-13 at one point, and it sometimes shows. I could've stood to hear more swearing and scatalogical humor, and the absence of Raab Himself shows. I find this unfair since I've set Haggard on such a high bar to surpass. The greatness certainly outweighs the meh, though, as people like Mark the Bagger and Lord Bottaro make welcome additions to the main cast of Bam's flick. But with the recent turns that Bam, Dunn, and Dico have made with their lives, I doubt we'll ever see another movie like Minghags or Haggard. And Where The #$&% Is Santa? doesn't exactly count since it's more of a glorified, 90-minute Viva La Bam episode than a film. Not that it's bad, but it's not the same.
So enjoy yourselves and have a fun, safe spring break. Go look online for Adam Carolla's podcast, because that's the best thing to hit the 'Net in a while. And don't shit the bed.
-C.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Them's Fighting Words.
I'm going to come out and say last week, despite some of it being really awesome (Street Fighter Awesome), pretty much sucked. I won't go into the speel of what happen, but little things kept stepping on my good fortune, building up to my firm belief that I have some really backwards luck. I mean it. I think someone's out to get me or something. It made me want to curl up and sleep for a few days, so when I'd wake up it was like nothing had happened, and hey, free sleep.
But that's neither here nor there. I'm going to write about Street Fighter IV. Oh yeah.
I was kind of pissed that it came out a day later than I anticipated, but it seems me pre-ordering it has some quaint advantages. As in I got the special edition no problem. I also got in my joystick controller, which did fine until the joystick stopped registering the left direction altogether. After reading some of the more disparaging things being said about this controller and how Madcatz can't do anything right on the 'Net, I was disheartened. As it turns out, though, I'm actually much better at the game with an Xbox 360 controller. Yup. Bite on that. The downside is that I have to send the broken joystick back. I was hoping for some magic, but as I learned last week with the other crappy stuff that happened, I can't win them all.
The Street Fighter IV "movie," The Ties That Bind, is a 65-minute festival of somebody trying to tell a SF story and pretty much failing to make any sense. And boy, if you thought any of the SF storylines to date were crummy, well, don't expect a jump away from that. Apparently some new shmuck called Seth is running around trying to take over the world and needs fighter DNA to do it, and Ryu is the perfect candidate. But Ryu has pals, and they don't take any crap off this guy. And Crimson Viper is a double agent? What? I'm not going to go deep into it because, sadly, it's just not that good and Capcom doesn't even seem to care at this point about stories. The animation is especially painful, because it looks like they just used key animation and felt no need to lip-synch the dubbing at all. That "ultamate" picture I posted last time looks better. This is a shame because I know Capcom knows better. After the spectacular Animated Movie they did, what, 15 years ago (gratuitous Chun-Li shower scene aside), and a 13-year wait for a proper sequel, and here we have this. And to salt the scrapings, I can only play this on my 360. Bleah.
The animation carries over to the prologue/epilogue scenes in the game, where it's even more obvious they assigned different animators to covers certain characters. All I can say is thank goodness this doesn't have anything to do with the game itself.
Fortunately, the 3D in-game animation is spectacular. I was a bit goosey about the transition, considering how great SFIII's 2D looked, but I am impressed. And it favors the 2D game plane so well I hardly notice it's really 3D. This is where I fell in love with the game, to the point where it still pisses me off like any other SF game.
Seth carries his stupid annoyance over to the game, where he's the obligatory space alien boss or whatever. "Let's give some character a 10-year-old Japanese boy drew on his Trapper Keeper various moves from other characters, but make them a hundred times cheaper. Also, unavoidable Ultra Combo." Yup. Seth is a BITCH, unless you know how to properly beat his ass. As in use a good character. Because I don't remember how many times I had to retry as Guile, but I continued my tradition of inventing curse phrases the whole time. "Fucking Medicine Ball Shitfag" was one.
The new stuff thrown in to the move mix work almost TOO well in this game. The biggest change is the Focus Attack (MP+MK), which can act as a parry, a means of avoiding attacks, a way to just screw with your opponent, or all three. I exploited how silly this was, but I'll admit it's much easier to pull off than the Parry system from SFIII. The Super Meter and Revenge Meter are also derived from standby meters of old, but take on a whole new meaning of strategy. Do I risk getting hit enough to do an Ultra Combo, or just beat his ass?
A lot of whimpering on the 'Net is how lame it is to have to unlock characters in this day and age. I agree with that, but I cannot find any reason to say unlocking all the fighters was a serious pain. It was lengthy, but I liked that I was at least unlocking the crappy movies during the whole thing. Getting Akuma was too easy (Thanks, Sagat!), and getting Gouken required little skill as well (Thanks, Dhalsim!). While I'm tickled they put in the original 12 from SFII in here, my biggest complaint about the roster are some of the choices for the unlockable characters. I'm so sick of seeing these Ryu/Ken wannabes cluttering up my Street Fighter games. Yeah, Sakura and Dan are silly and kind of fun to mess around with, but when they put in Fei Long and Cammy from Super SFII and leave out Dee Jay and T. Hawk, I point the finger at those two and ask "why?" Rose is cool because she's useable in the game, and Gen sucks but he doesn't shoot Hadoukens all over the place. Hell, even Akuma and Gouken are kind of different. At least they didn't rape character select space with some of the trash from SFIII. Yet. If they ever decide to give us downloadable fighters, I'll have to figure out a way to get Xbox Live.
The new characters themselves are meh at best. They stand out with impossibly tragic designs, and have some interesting move sets, but they don't bear any sense of memorability. And after characters like Dudley, Twelve, Necro, and Urien rearing their heads in the last game, I'm not that shocked when a fat man with a ponytail or a lucha libre fighter stumbles on the scene. And speaking of lucha libre, when did those become the necessary character to have in fighting games? I'm shocked Soulcalibur doesn't have one. This is like when they had to have a Bruce Lee in every fighter a decade ago. That said, Fei Long is cool. El Fuerte, notsomuch.
In the end, SFIV is as good if not better than I expected. The game part is traditional Street Fighter goodness, and despite looking like ass the cutscenes are practical since I don't have to read monotone jabberwatsis that earlier games needed because of tech limits. The Challenge Mode will give me some added content until I get pissed at it. And hey, the soundtrack disc isn't half bad, either. This game is goodness cubed.
Bent on homicidal rage, I continued my fighting game addiction when I found out Target was selling Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe for $40. A hearty deal, as I refused to pay full price for an MK game. Unfortunately, I was unaware of Target's ability to sell me an opened box with no game disc inside. This was a bit troublesome to explain to the return service clerk, but all was fixed because all I wanted was to have the game. I'd write in length about MK vs. DC, but sadly it's just not as good as SFIV. It's good in the sense that MK games usually suck balls by today's standards and this one plays well, but c'mon. SFIV beats it hands down. Except that MK vs. DC pretty much hands out achievement points, whereas SFIV runs with the old standby: Japanese games want to crush your spirit with impossible tasks. There's no goddamn way I can beat the game on Hardest with every character. Nuh-uh. I'm not even that good on Medium. I'd be lucky to get even 200 points out of that game. Oh well.
Keep on fighting.
-C.
But that's neither here nor there. I'm going to write about Street Fighter IV. Oh yeah.
I was kind of pissed that it came out a day later than I anticipated, but it seems me pre-ordering it has some quaint advantages. As in I got the special edition no problem. I also got in my joystick controller, which did fine until the joystick stopped registering the left direction altogether. After reading some of the more disparaging things being said about this controller and how Madcatz can't do anything right on the 'Net, I was disheartened. As it turns out, though, I'm actually much better at the game with an Xbox 360 controller. Yup. Bite on that. The downside is that I have to send the broken joystick back. I was hoping for some magic, but as I learned last week with the other crappy stuff that happened, I can't win them all.
The Street Fighter IV "movie," The Ties That Bind, is a 65-minute festival of somebody trying to tell a SF story and pretty much failing to make any sense. And boy, if you thought any of the SF storylines to date were crummy, well, don't expect a jump away from that. Apparently some new shmuck called Seth is running around trying to take over the world and needs fighter DNA to do it, and Ryu is the perfect candidate. But Ryu has pals, and they don't take any crap off this guy. And Crimson Viper is a double agent? What? I'm not going to go deep into it because, sadly, it's just not that good and Capcom doesn't even seem to care at this point about stories. The animation is especially painful, because it looks like they just used key animation and felt no need to lip-synch the dubbing at all. That "ultamate" picture I posted last time looks better. This is a shame because I know Capcom knows better. After the spectacular Animated Movie they did, what, 15 years ago (gratuitous Chun-Li shower scene aside), and a 13-year wait for a proper sequel, and here we have this. And to salt the scrapings, I can only play this on my 360. Bleah.
The animation carries over to the prologue/epilogue scenes in the game, where it's even more obvious they assigned different animators to covers certain characters. All I can say is thank goodness this doesn't have anything to do with the game itself.
Fortunately, the 3D in-game animation is spectacular. I was a bit goosey about the transition, considering how great SFIII's 2D looked, but I am impressed. And it favors the 2D game plane so well I hardly notice it's really 3D. This is where I fell in love with the game, to the point where it still pisses me off like any other SF game.
Seth carries his stupid annoyance over to the game, where he's the obligatory space alien boss or whatever. "Let's give some character a 10-year-old Japanese boy drew on his Trapper Keeper various moves from other characters, but make them a hundred times cheaper. Also, unavoidable Ultra Combo." Yup. Seth is a BITCH, unless you know how to properly beat his ass. As in use a good character. Because I don't remember how many times I had to retry as Guile, but I continued my tradition of inventing curse phrases the whole time. "Fucking Medicine Ball Shitfag" was one.
The new stuff thrown in to the move mix work almost TOO well in this game. The biggest change is the Focus Attack (MP+MK), which can act as a parry, a means of avoiding attacks, a way to just screw with your opponent, or all three. I exploited how silly this was, but I'll admit it's much easier to pull off than the Parry system from SFIII. The Super Meter and Revenge Meter are also derived from standby meters of old, but take on a whole new meaning of strategy. Do I risk getting hit enough to do an Ultra Combo, or just beat his ass?
A lot of whimpering on the 'Net is how lame it is to have to unlock characters in this day and age. I agree with that, but I cannot find any reason to say unlocking all the fighters was a serious pain. It was lengthy, but I liked that I was at least unlocking the crappy movies during the whole thing. Getting Akuma was too easy (Thanks, Sagat!), and getting Gouken required little skill as well (Thanks, Dhalsim!). While I'm tickled they put in the original 12 from SFII in here, my biggest complaint about the roster are some of the choices for the unlockable characters. I'm so sick of seeing these Ryu/Ken wannabes cluttering up my Street Fighter games. Yeah, Sakura and Dan are silly and kind of fun to mess around with, but when they put in Fei Long and Cammy from Super SFII and leave out Dee Jay and T. Hawk, I point the finger at those two and ask "why?" Rose is cool because she's useable in the game, and Gen sucks but he doesn't shoot Hadoukens all over the place. Hell, even Akuma and Gouken are kind of different. At least they didn't rape character select space with some of the trash from SFIII. Yet. If they ever decide to give us downloadable fighters, I'll have to figure out a way to get Xbox Live.
The new characters themselves are meh at best. They stand out with impossibly tragic designs, and have some interesting move sets, but they don't bear any sense of memorability. And after characters like Dudley, Twelve, Necro, and Urien rearing their heads in the last game, I'm not that shocked when a fat man with a ponytail or a lucha libre fighter stumbles on the scene. And speaking of lucha libre, when did those become the necessary character to have in fighting games? I'm shocked Soulcalibur doesn't have one. This is like when they had to have a Bruce Lee in every fighter a decade ago. That said, Fei Long is cool. El Fuerte, notsomuch.
In the end, SFIV is as good if not better than I expected. The game part is traditional Street Fighter goodness, and despite looking like ass the cutscenes are practical since I don't have to read monotone jabberwatsis that earlier games needed because of tech limits. The Challenge Mode will give me some added content until I get pissed at it. And hey, the soundtrack disc isn't half bad, either. This game is goodness cubed.
Bent on homicidal rage, I continued my fighting game addiction when I found out Target was selling Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe for $40. A hearty deal, as I refused to pay full price for an MK game. Unfortunately, I was unaware of Target's ability to sell me an opened box with no game disc inside. This was a bit troublesome to explain to the return service clerk, but all was fixed because all I wanted was to have the game. I'd write in length about MK vs. DC, but sadly it's just not as good as SFIV. It's good in the sense that MK games usually suck balls by today's standards and this one plays well, but c'mon. SFIV beats it hands down. Except that MK vs. DC pretty much hands out achievement points, whereas SFIV runs with the old standby: Japanese games want to crush your spirit with impossible tasks. There's no goddamn way I can beat the game on Hardest with every character. Nuh-uh. I'm not even that good on Medium. I'd be lucky to get even 200 points out of that game. Oh well.
Keep on fighting.
-C.
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