The Table Incident

AKA That Time I Bled All Over My Sister

In 1988, my family moved into a duplex on Gillespie Street. It was a little closer to the main part of Pine Bush than our old house in Lake Estates. The streets were often empty and therefore open to us kids. Our living room, however, was an obstacle course of death and destruction.

Everything my parents owned was made of wood and sharp corners. Our old country style couch had a solid wood frame with sturdy blue velour cushions. It was flanked on either side by heavy, solid wood, sharp cornered end tables that Dad had built. On top of them rested two tall table lamps. More wood, more corners, more sharpness. In the middle of the room sat the coffee table: another of Dad’s sharp, solid wood monsters, created as a companion to the the end tables.

One morbidly hot and humid Saturday morning in 1989, Mom was at work at Epco, building transformers (not the robots in disguise). Dad was in the backyard, mowing the lawn. My brother, Harry, was playing Legend of Zelda in the living room, and my sister, Sandi, was in the kitchen, talking on the phone with her boyfriend. I, however, was running around the house in my Superman Underoos, gassed up on Froot Loops, Fruit Roll-ups and episodes of The Real Ghostbusters, Gummi Bears, and Captain N: The Game Master.

At some point in my sugar-infused state of mind, I decided that my Underoos were symbolic of my own character. I was Superman. As such, I was nigh unto indestructible. I could fly. With my newly discovered powers needing demonstration, I wrapped my blue baby blanket around me like a cape, ran to the living room, and hopped up onto the velour couch cushions. I turned and I jumped, soaring through the air with grace of a superhero… right up until the moment I smashed my right eyebrow into a corner of the coffee table. Blood sprayed. I screamed. My sister hung up the phone to tend to me. She picked me up off the floor and held me and I screamed and bled all over her shirt. She ran outside and called for Dad who promptly came inside, looked over my bloody visage, and brusquely told Sandi to call Mom at work.

It took fifteen minutes and two phone calls to finally get a message to Mom at work. None of her coworkers bothered to deliver the message the first time. She was less than pleased at the fact that no one would take me to a doctor which forced her to come home from work early. When she finally arrived, Mom and Dad packed me up into the car. Dad drove and Mom sat in back seat with me. She kept me from bleeding all over the car, kept me calm and held a cloth wrapped ice pack to my wound. Mom explained on the way that I had to be good and keep calm so that they wouldn’t try to strap me down (which happened to me once).

At the hospital, the doctors wanted Mom to wait outside while they stitched me up. She didn’t think it was a good idea… after all, she knew me. She also knew that two years prior I had broken out of a Papoose as a writhing, screaming, bloody mess. She assured the doctors I was going to behave. While I got my nine stitches, mom talked to me about my playing Superman and why that may not have been my smartest idea. When the doctors had finished, they offered Mom a job handling other children in the hospital. She refused outright.

Over the course of the next ten days, I had this set of nine stitches in my head. Much to Mom’s chagrin, I managed to pull two stitches out by myself. Dad told her to just pop the remaining seven out herself, but Mom thought that would be unsanitary and just incredibly gross. Instead, we returned to the hospital and the remaining stitches came out with no further incident.

I, however, learned absolutely nothing. Three weeks later, in true super-heroic fashion, I went right back to attempting to fly. Our back porch had no stairs leading into the back yard; yet I was in dire need of getting back there. The porch hovered roughly fifteen feet off the ground and a multitude of slats caged me in, but that meant nothing for me. I scurried up the railing as quickly my small frame could; perched high on the railing, I prepared for my next dive… and then Mom caught me, dragged me inside and paddled my behind for my utilizing my imagination to the fullest.

And that’s just one story of how I busted my head open.

Adventure Ho!

Or How I Learned that LARPers Can’t Make Babies

 

This is the story of the one and only time I ever went LARPing. For the uninitiated, LARP stands for Live Action Role Play. Think of it this way: take the kids who play D&D^* then dress them up in costumes and send them off into the woods to act out their brave little fantasies.^** It’s fun if that’s the sort of thing that blows your skirt up, Marilyn.

Back in 2003 I dated a girl – for the sake of this post, we’ll call her Liara – who was really into LARPing. And I mean really into it. And she wanted me to be into it, too. She had a particular “professional” organization that she frequented. I have no recollection of what it was called – most likely something generic like “mythical journeys” or “journey through the realm” but no matter. I just remember it was based in Connecticut on a 4H campsite.

In October of 2003, Liara asked me if I would actually like to go with her to this particular organization’s (heretofore referred to as The Valiant Spellbinders^***) event in November. I wasn’t really interested, but she wanted me to go so badly. I agreed and she got me signed up as a volunteer actor. A volunteer actor doesn’t really get play a character. Volunteer actors for the Valiant Spellbinders typically take the roles of NPC (Non-Player Characters) or monsters scattered through the land. AKA Valiant Spellbinders’ cabana boy. Whatever they asked me to play, I’d play. I was going there for free after all. 

We left for Connecticut on a Friday afternoon. Her mother drove us there because 1) She didn’t have her license and 2) I’m directionally challenged in the days before good GPS. We were dropped off on the campgrounds that evening. If you’ve never been to Connecticut in November, let me tell you this: it is cold. It is bitter cold. I don’t mean Pacific Northwest cold. We’re talking “Holy shit, is it going to snow!?” kinda cold. And me without any kind of a heavy jacket. Way to start the weekend off.

Let me let you in on a couple of secrets right off the bat. First of all, not very many women LARP. It’s an incredibly male centric activity. Second, what few women do LARP are prized possessions.^† They are placed on pedestals, objectified,and worshipped. I’ll give you a moment to think about how obscenely wrong that is on every level.

Liara and I stepped out of the car and onto the frozen gravel driveway of the entrance. she quickly spotted people she knew over by the main gate, smoking. She brought me over to them and introduced me as her boyfriend. Connecticut had suddenly gotten colder as I was met with several cold, steely looks. Oh, they all spoke amicably to me, but the looks were undeniable. I was an outsider and I held one of their women. One cloth-armor clad fella, we’ll call him Damon,even went so far as to flirt with Liara right in front of me. Game on, indeed.

The first night:
After spending about a half hour at the entrance to the camp, and smoking like chimneys, and the guys showing off their boffers – I’ll leave that where it is and let your minds work that one over for now -- Liara took me to “The Barracks.” This is where I’d receive orders, change costumes, eat, and sleep. We dropped our gear upstairs and Liara took off to change into costume: an all black outfit with a red sash draped over one shoulder and tied around the waist and a cliché insignia pinned above the breast. She was outfitted with a miniscule boffer (I promise, I’m getting to that). I stifled a laugh, especially since a moment later I was called over and put in the very same outfit. It was easily two sizes to big for my 120 pound frame. But off we went, dressed as soldiers of some evil ruling army in the land. We really used it as more of an opportunity to take a walk around the campgrounds. It was cold, but it was clear, and a full moon hung over head. That was the last nice moment I was going to have that whole weekend.

Day 1:
Mountain Troll:
For some reason, someone thought I’d make a good mountain troll, despite me being, well, kinda short, and really skinny. I joined up with a group of five others of varying heights and weights. I was given a boffer, and dirty Halloween wig, and a caveman singlet to be worn over my jeans and my jacket. I was the picture of hotness. Ok, really I looked more like Captain Caveman than mountain troll.
My rowdy group of trolls was sent to the top of a hill. Our job was to wait for a wandering group of adventurers, pop out from over the hill, and engage them in battle. And, of course, lose. The losing was the easy part. The hard part was making it down the hill. As the first group wandered past, we sprang up and barreled down the hill, grunting and yelling. Then everything was a blur. Next thing I knew, I was sprawled out on my stomach. Somehow, I had managed to trip so spectacularly that I flipped and twisted at the same time, crashed to the ground, and skidded across the dry, frozen dirt path.

Bandit:
This isn’t the story of the character so much as the aftermath. Now, according to the rules of a combat for Valiant Spellbinders, defeated characters must return to the barracks holding their boffer (sit tight, it’s coming)on their head to signify that the character is out of play. Given that my job was to lose to actual player characters (AKA people who pay to play)I was defeated pretty swiftly on this particular mission. On my walk down the path back to the barracks, boffer on head, I found myself being accosted by a low-rent musketeer, complete with a feather-plumed hat. He insisted on prodding me and taking swings at me with his boffer. Hard.
Ok, let me (finally!) explain a boffer to you, dear reader. A boffer is a foam weapon. While they are available for purchase, most people take the DIY approach: they start with a length of thick schedule PVC pipe, then they place foam padding around the pipe. The foam is meant, not just to protect, but to aide in designing a unique weapon. Then duct tape is employed in various colors to ad the final details to the design and hold the foam in place.
So, despite any foam padding this weapon provided, this guy cracked me in the ribs with a piece of PVC pipe. I reacted the way any reasonable man who had been hit in the ribs would. I took a swing at him myself. Now, where were on the path had a roughly ten foot drop overlooking a wide stream (Not wide enough and certainly not deep enough to be considered a river and the solid dirt walls of this drop had several thick bushes protruding like would be safety nets. When I swung at my assailant, I missed. Big time. He jumped backward, stumbled over his own feet, and landed in an awaiting bush. I glared at him for a moment. Several people had witnessed our altercation and came over to help. Three people helped him out of this bush where he sheepishly claimed fault. Satisfaction all around. “Game on” was declared and marched back to the barracks.

Nightfall/The Undead:
What’s a game of pretend at night without the undead? That night I was conscripted to play some kind of magical zombie. Word must have gotten around pretty quickly about the bush incident. Between that and my relationship with Liara, I suddenly became public nerd enemy #1. Everyone who possibly could wailed on me with their boffers and they were not pulling their swings. The thing about being hit full force with a padded hunk of PVC is that at certain point, the force of the hit outweighs the padding. And I was taking a lot of these hits.
Liara would later explain to me that they were just passionate about protecting their characters. I’d have bought that excuse more if I had not been the primary target out of eight other “undead” walking around. That night, I didn’t sleep well. Every time I moved, pain shot through my ribs. So, this is fun, eh? Thanks, Valiant Spellbinders. I’ll be sure to come back.

Day 2:
The Final Hours or The Epic Battle of the Nerds:
I learned an important lesson on the last day of Valiant Spellbinders: LARPers are incapable of procreation… that’s probably for the best.
The final day of nerd camp culminates in an all out nerd war. The nerds congregate into one part of the field (in this case we went into the woods), half of them representing the aforementioned red-sash brigade, and everyone else as their characters. The head-nerd-honchos count down and a nerd melee begins. Everyone just taking blind swings. In my case, this became literal. At some point, I took a shot to the face that actually knocked out one of my contact lenses. I couldn’t see. I shut my bad eye so I could see, but my depth perception suffered for it. Out of my limited peripheral vision I saw someone running toward me. I took a swing to that side, not really expecting to connect. It took me a moment to realize I’d made direct contact with a crotch. Not only had I scored an unfortunate solid blow, but my quarry seemed completely unphased by this. He kept bounding through the trees unimpeded. I’d have to file it away, though There was no time to ponder this, though. I had to keep running and swinging wildly at anything that moved.
A whistle cut through the air. This game was finally over! Sore, out of breath, craving a cigarette and the comfort of my own damn bed, it was at this moment it dawned on me whose crotch I’d Falcon-punched. It was Damon. I Johnny-Caged Damon… and he didn’t go down. Well that was certainly interesting. All the same, one does not go around blasting guys in the hippity-hops. I felt I at least owed him an apology. Before I went back to the barracks to pack my stuff for home, I saw Damon at the entrance smoking. I strolled up, bummed a smoke from someone else there, took a good deep drag, looked Damon in the eye and said “So, uh, I think I may have tagged you in the nuts back there, man. Sorry.” Truly a master of eloquence.
Damon smiled and responded with an air of casualness reserved for, well, normal conversations “Did you? Oh, it happens so often I don’t even notice it anymore.”
Really, I have nothing more to add to that story. Just contemplate that. This man has been smashed in the primary male weak point so many times that he no longer feels it. To reiterate: “LARPers” plus “procreation” equals “not gonna happen.” That particular information, much like watching that guy fall in a bush, was incredibly satisfying.
I returned to the barracks and helped Liara pack up our stuff and pack it all out to her mom’s car. The trip home was quiet, outside of Liara’s mom asking questions and the sound of lighters being flicked to light cigarettes. Things were a little tense after that. However a month later Liara called me to let me know when the next event was and asked if I wanted to go. I hung up on her.

 

*Or any table top RPG. Your mileage may vary.
** I know this is a pretty broad generalization, but bear with me. It was one experience 8 years ago. I’m not claiming expertise in the field of LARP.
^*** It was either that or “Boffer Brigade”
^†There’s actually been some good things written about the male gaze in gaming and geek culture in the last year. It’s worth checking out. Remember dudes: ladies are people, not things.

I’ll Be In the Angry Dome!

Or: Why PHL is a raging cesspool

Let me open by saying that this is not a humor post. This is pure venom because it’s what I have at the moment. Furthermore, if you come here for the funny,check back soon. I have things I’m working on. That said, on with the vile:

PHL’s F terminal plays host strictly to US Airways flights. US Airways is an airline company so horrible to it’s customers, I’m forced to write new slogans for them:

US Airways – We just don’t give a shit!
US Airways – Friendly skies!? Phhhaahahahaaaaa!
US Airways – Where’s your god now, huh!?
US Airways – *cock-slap*
US Airways – As long as we’re being honest, we hate you.
US Airways – Because fuck you, that’s why!

This whole trip to New York* has been a fiasco. I left on the 28th. I should have been in New York on the 28th. But thanks to one mechanical failure that stranded me here for one night, weather conditions on the east coast have prevented travel to the one airport I need to get to. The only airport that is a half hour away from my family. An hour-long flight that cannot be made, because of One. Mechanical. Failure. I only have until the 3rd of November to spend with my family and I’ve wasted two days in a damn airport. A joke of a terminal, no less. Let’s highlight some of the more amusing aspects of this terminal:

It’s being remodeled. That’s all well and good, but that means only the news stands and one “restaurant” are open. Now, all the news stands are the exact same thing. I’m not even sure why they’re marked differently. They’re all Hudson Group shops: over-priced and full of gifts – t-shirts, snow globes, shot glasses – that you’d never buy for another human being. Then there’s the restaurant. Would you like to know the difference between the restaurant and the sandwich stand directly across from it? Booze. Booze and a “Panini grill.”

--

Last night I slept on the airport floor. US Airways would not help me at all. They offered a “discounted” hotel rate that was still ridiculous. So I slept on the floor of the baggage claim. I slept there because I was told to find my bag there. I asked about it, and they told me that their system showed it was still in Philadelphia but it could take up to three hours to find it. Three hours later and no bag. I asked again, but got no real response. I asked one more person if she knew where my bag was. She went away to check. Another three hours later, she returned. She confessed that she was the last person to touch my bag and that she had put it on a flight to Newburgh. A flight I was never on. My bag is in New York. I am not.

But it hasn’t all been murderous desire. My west coast people have been wonderful to me. Martha, Julia, and Catherine have all had a hand in being far too sweet to me, making me cry. I also had something of a guardian angel last night… or at least a person of random blessing. She was a fine lass from Dublin. She went to get me a beer in exchange for using my phone charger, or at least that was her reasoning; I’m pretty sure she noticed I’d been crying. When the beer plan failed, she came back out with two bottles of Coke and a pulled a brand new bottle of Jameson from her bag. She had me swig back some Coke, then refilled the bottle… because “Clarleh ye’ve hahd a roof deah.” I don’t know her name. I’ll never see her again. Bless her heart.

So what’s the point of all this? I’m pissed off. That’s really it. I’m pissed. I needed to vent.

…

Ok, one last piece of rage:

Fuck you, US Airways. May all of your profits be in the red. May you go bankrupt, belly up, and may all of your rude employees go rot.

</vitriol>

Facepalm and Foxtrot

New Television Should Be Ashamed

America, we need to talk. Other countries, you may want to leave the room. You can stay if you want to, but America and I have something to discuss.

When I was young, I had the TV to babysit me. I used to watch anything and everything that I could. After everything switched to digital and the world needed converter boxes, I broke free. I don’t watch anything new on TV anymore. I admit, I catch a lot of shit for this, but I’m honestly thrilled to not be glued to the TV 24/7. However, you may have noticed that I have a Netflix streaming account. Now, I may not be ahead of the curve on what’s hot anymore, but I’ve been finding out the types of things you people have been watching and I am disappointed.

 

*Siiiiiiiiigh*

Look, enough beating around the bush. I need one of you to justify to me why Parking Wars, Mall Cops, and Pawn Stars are even shows, let alone ones that have more than one season? Why have you made these things popular? I was willing to forgive you for Dog the Bounty Hunter, and I even manage to mostly overlook Jersey Shore. But shows about parking lot enforcement, mall security, and pawn shops? Really? Are you just willing to watch anything?

 

Sheesh! 40,000 channels and only 150 have anything good on.

 

What’s just as scary as these shows being popular is the fact that someone, somewhere decided to pitch this to a network, and they thought it was a good idea. And evidently, given that all these shows have several seasons, they weren’t wrong. What the hell is wrong with all of you!?

 

“You know, Phil, maybe people don’t want to watch a show about parking lot cops…”
”And that’s why you don’t work here after today, Bob!”

In conclusion: shame on all of you, America. Now I’m going to go be all pretentious and watch Downton Abbey  or Twin Peaks. I suggest you all start doing the same, immediately.

 

I have far too much grace, sophistication, and money to pawn anything on Pawn Stars.
 

A Not-So LNN:MM

Wherein My Nerd-Cred Slips to Nil.

After my last Late Night Netflix: Movie Mania, I learned a few things:

1. The result of doing reviews that way is a two-day hangover with only about half the fun of getting there.
2. I really limited my material by going only with streaming. I know there’s a lot of streaming, but I do get DVDs too.
3. I don’t want to post that much reactionary stuff again. I certainly do want to post my initial reaction comments, but I want to write something slightly more substantial

Congratulations, The Asylum. You gave me a learning experience. So, I’m changing things up for this edition of LNN:MM.

1. I’m obviously doing this earlier than midnight.
2. This movie is on DVD
3. Less notes! More actual content!

Now I know this is only my second one of these and I’m breaking my own pre-established rules, but it’s my blog and I’ll do what I damn well please! Besides, this is all meant for entertainment and sharing the things in the fantasy kingdom that is my brain.

Speaking of fantasy kingdoms, that brings us to tonight’s movie: Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children, an all CGI affair brought to us by the beloved Squeenix. I’m not going to lie to you; I’ve only managed to stomach ten minutes of this so far. But I’m prepared to try again. For you. You torturous, hateful sadists…

The DVD menu, like any DVD menu that has an animated loop with soundtrack, if left on too long will make you want to punch a nun. This choir singing the name “Sephiroth” over and over again is pretty annoying. My options are: Play Movie, Languages, Scene Selections, and Reminiscence of Final Fantasy VII; all pretty standard options, except that last one. That just sounds weird. Let’s just play the movie:

• This opening is boring. There’s a ton of action and all of it off screen. This is followed by one of the Peanuts children expositing by offering the plot to FF:VII. Way to go movie. You’re not even five minutes in and you’re boring me.
• Also, this sequence seems to be where they pulled all of the action from the DVD menu from.
• Everything in this movie so far has been muted and gray.
• And a cut to an even grayer wasteland and the Square-Enix logo. Is it too late to turn back now? It is? Shit.
• In the same breath we’re introduced to our hero, Cloud Strife; a man whose hair looks like a variegated star (Thank you, Nikolina) and whose outfit looks like it was rejected from Mad Max.  
• And now we have three guys all dressed alike speaking very weirdly about mothers and big-brothers, and telling each other not to cry. Creepy.
• Cloud just got cold shot in the face and he just winces? Either I’m very confused about physics and/or biology right now, or that dude is effing hardcore.
• And Cloud’s first actual lines are a whiny and petulant “I’m leaving!” Our hero!
• Followed soon after by “Too bad. I’m a delivery-boy now.” Cloud, buddy… looking like you do, that line does not sound as badass as you think it does.
• And our hero walks away with a mighty “Not interested…” Truly, stalwart and mighty is he.
• Ok, this action scene between Tifa and one of the creepy-trio is actually fairly decent, and has the first real bits of color I’ve seen in the movie.
• That said, creepy-guy #3’s cell phone rings and the ringtone is the battle victory music from FF:VII. It’s a cute piece of self-referential humor; however, it’s ruined by the fact that his phone keeps ringing. It goes from a cute chuckle to insanely annoying very fast.
• The three creepy guys are rounding up children in a glowing forest and talking about healing them. Pedobear would be proud.
• We come into another action scene which is trying so hard to be epic; full of guns and super powers, swords and martial arts. The problem is, between all the zoom shots and the pale lighting, you can’t tell what’s going on at all. It’s pretty disappointing.
• And now we’re introduced to “Vincent” who sounds like Wolverine after smoking a pack of cigarettes and apparently owns Spawn’s cape. He and Cloud have an exchange about what the creepy-trio are up to, which is apparently resurrecting Sephiroth, the big-bad from the game. Well… ok.
• This plot makes no sense. They want to resurrect Sephiroth because “Mother” wants them to, but they don’t have any real plans after that. No world domination (of course!), no conquest. Just, bring back the old big-bad. Why!?
• Creepy guy #1 summons a giant monster. It blows up a pillar.monument and then leaves. Well. That was necessary. Just had to get that “Summon” in there?
• And this is followed by a really lame fight sequence.
• Creepy #3: “You meanie!!” … Really, movie?
• We’re a little over halfway through this movie and you want to pack in five more characters? Movie, I know you want to make sure you get all the favorites in here, but come on. Especially when these guys are as much comic relief as the two jokers from the last lousy action scene!
• Oh, finally our petulant hero returns! And cue a relentless action sequence involving eight heroes and one giant monster where you cannot possibly tell what is going on.
• By the way, unless you’re familiar with the games, you’re never told who half these people are. Way to go, movie!
• And a guy in a wheelchair from the beginning didn’t need a wheelchair after all, had “mother” the whole time, and threw it off a tall building. WHAT A TWIST! M. Night would be proud!
• Movie, when your motorcycle chase/ action-packed fight is full of muted grays, to the point that the audience can’t tell what’s happening. it is not exciting.
• Though, to be fair, the part where creepy guy #3 throws his motorcycle with his legs and Cloud cuts it in half is pretty badass. The rest of the action kind of sucks, though.
• Ok, I’m getting bored with this. Let’s wrap this up. Cloud fights Creepy guy #1 to no avail; they have a fairly impressive sword fight (only fairly because of several moments of “what the hell just happened!?”); Cloud’s friends babble incessantly and don’t help AT ALL; creepy guy #1 changes into Sephiroth, the two have a really boring Dragonball Z style fight with Sephiroth quipping away the whole time; Sephiroth almost wins, but Cloud, through the magic of the world, or friendship or some crap overcomes; Creepy guy #1 returns and it starts raining and he dies in Cloud’s arms; The rain heals everyone in the world, everyone lives happily ever after… until Creepy guys #2&3 return to shoot Cloud and blow up the building they’re on top of(WHY ISN’T THIS OVER YET!?) and Cloud gets…. kicked out of heaven and back down to Earth? I think? His friends surround him and we live happily ever after. Friendship babble. Roll credits!

THE END!

GAH, this movie is terrible! I know this is a grave taboo to fan-boys the world over, but this movie just is not good at all. The characters are boring, or just plain unlikable. Characters got shoved in just because they were in the game. The villainous plan has no point, other than to resurrect a dead evil guy for no other reason than “because we can!” The three creepy villains are supposed to have a comic element to them that just falls flat. Sephiroth shows up for an epic battle that does nothing and ends on an absurdly confusing note.

Speaking of confusing, that sums up the action in this movie. Between constantly muted colors, or fighting going on in areas with bad lighting, IE everything is awash in blue light, and the constant zooming shots, the action is just… confusing to watch. I had no idea what was going on most of the time.

Advent children was also just… aesthetically unappealing to me. I don’t care for straight CGI in the first place, but when all of your colors are gray and muted, everything looks boring, dull, and waxy. The end credit sequence and one fight with Tifa looked so much brighter and vibrant than the vast majority of this movie.

All I can say is this: This was made for the fan-boys. If you’re a huge FF:VII fan, then you might like this. But as someone who just kind of picked this up? This movie was horrible and made me want to set bunnies on fire.

Netflix Assumptive Rating: *****
Actual Rating: **

The Whizzer

Or: Why I Shouldn’t Watch Movies at 1AM.

It’s well after midnight here in my wonderful world. I can’t sleep. I find myself watching The Wizard, an insanely stupid movie from 1989 whose sole purpose is to herald the coming of one of history’s greatest video games, Super Mario Bros. 3.

The movie itself, however, is a pile of crap. A lot has already been said about it, especially by the likes of The Nostalgia Critic. But, hey, this is the internet, it’s late, and I need to update this blog with something. Therefore, I’m going to rant about this stellar dunce of a movie; however, I’m not going to bother with the plot itself, as it is completely nonsensical. Go watch Nostalgia Critic’s review if you want to hear about that. I’m also not touching the dialogue, as it’s just… well, it’s about what you would expect when you slam Fred Savage, Christian Slater, and Beau Bridges in a movie together. It’s just plain weird.

This movie’s only real purpose, as I said earlier, was to usher in SMB3, which it did and did in quite the epic fashion; however, if that’s all this movie was, there wouldn’t be a problem. Pretty much everything else about video games in this movie is just dead wrong. And it is just this very point that I want to rant and rave. Why? Because I can.

• Jimmy, the Rain Man of video gaming, comes across a Double Dragon arcade cabinet, where in a matter of 30 seconds he scores 50,000 points.
  1. Why is the arcade cabinet playing the NES version of the game?
  2. Really? 50,000 in the time it took Fred Savage to not buy a bus ticket? That’s not just impressive, it downright defies the nature of what’s possible!
  3. Let’s say that conversation about buying bus tickets took a lot longer than it actually did. This movie made a huge deal about Rain Man here making 50,000 points. Congrats, kid. You made it to level 6. TRULY THOU ART A GOD OF GAMERS.
• F1 Dream – What, you mean the Rad Racer demo?
• Speaking of the Rad Racer demo: Lucas. Oh lord, Lucas. Strap in, folks. This where I get really ranty:
  1. Lucas claims to have “all 97” NES titles. Right off the bat I have to call BS. Wikipedia tells me that “There are 799 titles in the NES library in the US and PAL region.” That’s from 1985 – 1994.This number doesn’t include the unlicensed games. In 1991, the SNES came out, meaning new release titles for the NES from 1991-1994 were very small in number. My point? THERE WERE MORE THAN 97 GAMES IN 1989!
  2. Lucas is pretty good at the Rad Racer demo screen, too!
  3. Lucas is even good at it using Mattel’s Power Glove, which is hilarious because that thing never worked.
  4. Side note: I had a Power Glove growing up, but it was mostly for uppity rich, whiny kids who just had to have the coolest stuff.
  5. Extra side note: You could not be cool AND own a Power Glove.
• This is really just a continuity thing, but the father character (Why did you do this movie, Beau Bridges?) claims to have gotten really far playing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Movie cuts to what he’s doing and…he’s on level 1. That’s just great. NEXT!
• The Nintendo. Power. Hotline. Oh good gosh. Look, it existed, but it was never a good idea. At all. It was a toll-number where a person could call up and get hints and cheats for video games. Given a rather large stack of binders a call operator is accumulating while on the phone with one of our plucky heroes, I can safely infer that this phone bill is going to be epic. The kind of phone bill with at least four zeros.
• Rain Man Jr. is playing yet another arcade cabinet that is… the NES version Ninja Turtles. Wait. What? No! Stop putting the NES games into arcade cabinets! That’s NOT how these things work!
  • They keep doing this, as Jimmy bounces from cabinet to cabinet and you clearly hear the coin sound from Super Mario Brothers at one point.
  • Ok, they do this for a LOT of games, but I’m going to leave it with these two: METROID WAS NEVER IN THE ARCADE! NEITHER WAS SUPER MARIO BROTHERS 2/DOKI DOKI PANIC! Ok, I feel better.
• At the McGuffin, er… video game competition, everyone is gearing up to play Ninja Gaiden. For some reason they pronounce this as “Guy Dan.” Words do not express how sad that makes me on the inside.
  • Look, I’m just going to say it. Nobody can beat Ninja Gaiden without a Game Genie. The movie confirms this as everyone is at the same damn part of stage 2-2.
• The unveiling of SMB3. I have no beef here. This was as epic as it was supposed to be. Move along.
• However, when they do start playing the game, I do have a gripe. They state very explicitly that no one has EVER played this game before, but Jimmy finds the warp whistle pretty easily! Now, I know the point here was for the movie to say “Look kids! This game has secrets!!” but even Fred Savage is sitting on the floor screaming “FIND THE WARP, JIMMY!” How the hell did he know it was there?
• “Jimmy finishes world 2!” Then how did he get three cards?
• “The magic flute opens the warp!” Again, How the hell do you know that!? No one has ever played this game. You cannot know what an unfamiliar object does in a game that has never been played.

Ok, that about wraps up my review for this one aspect of this stupid movie. I know this isn’t a typical movie review and some of this requires context. Again, go watch the Nostalgia Critic video, or see this movie for yourself. It’s not a good movie by any stretch of the imagination. Its only saving grace is that epic reveal of Super Mario Bros. 3. Everything else is dark, depressing, or just plain wrong. And with that, I’m going to bed.

I’m a Real Boy!

Has it really been close to a month since I last updated? My apologies. I don’t have much in the way of posting right now, but I thought I should give a quick update on some things.

 

• The HWP is proving to be a difficult project, but I am working on it. To anyone who has been asking where these posts are, please be patient. This is a new sort of thing for me. I promise you that it is coming.
• I am officially a full-time student again. I have a schedule and everything. Come August 29th, I return to the world of the academe.

 

On this second point, I’ve been asked the same question over and over again: “Are you excited?” At first my honest answer was “Among other things…”
Truth is I was a whirlwind of emotions; mostly a combination of excitement and fear. Yet, every step I take, every moment I come closer to returning to classes I find myself less fearful, still excited, and quite content.

I only ask that you hold me in your thoughts and prayers (if you’re the praying sort) during this next phase of my life.

Addendum: Over on the right, there’s a shiny, new ‘Like’ button for Facebook. It would mean the world to me, my lovely readers, if you would click that little button. It’s lonely and waiting for you.

Extreme Blog Makeover!

Already dated pop-culture references aside, if you've been reading my blog at all it may look a bit different. If you just stumbled upon it, well you won't notice a damn thing. The fact of the matter is I have been wanting to give this thing a face-lift for some time now; however, I have no mind for coding something, no real eye for design, and Blogger's templates all kind of suck. 

This is what I'm getting at: 

I need help on this one. I need help on this in a major way. I want this goofy little blog to be something I can be proud of, but I just cannot do it alone. What do you say? Help me make this blog less hideous to look at.

Help me help you.

Or at least help me to stop insulting and assaulting your general sense of aesthetics.