 9/8/04: Super Duper Wuper
Man
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At some point about ninety
trillion years ago, when the Earth was
still congealing from gas and asteroidal
dust, some bloke invented Superman, and
Superman proceeded to become a pop
culture icon. Superman is pretty much
squatting in the collective unconscious,
and short of some massive global nuclear
holocaust, will probably stay there. Even
people who don't like comics know
Superman. Even people who have been
locked in the attic for four hundred
years know Superman. Superman is the
basis for all super-heroes. In fact, it
is Superman we have to thank for the word
'super hero'.
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Now,
I know the bloke who invented Superman probably
had absolutely no idea that he was setting the
template for pretty much every comic book from
then on, but even so, I feel an important issue
remains: Why oh why oh why did he have to dress
him like such a fucking queer?
Before Superman,
capes were only worn by duellists, soldiers in
trench warfare who didn't fancy being gassed to
death, and QUEERS. Now, super-heroes too. Before
Superman, skin-tight spandex body suits were only
worn by circus acrobats and QUEERS. Now, also
super-heroes. What kind of diseased brain could
make that sort of link? "Fearless defender
of mankind -> dressing like a fucking
queer".
The most tragic
thing about Superman is that, minus the costume,
he really couldn't be more badass. Look at him.
He's built like a brick shithouse that was built
inside another brick shithouse. He's got a chin
you could use as a set square. He's got the
little Elvis kiss-curl in his hair and, if that's
not enough for you, he can punch a person's head
off and use his intestine as a skipping rope
before the 'Hey, my head's been punched off'
nerve impulse reaches the decapitated brain. And
this guy's walking around dressed like he got
lost in the 'Full-Figured' section of Mothercare.
The creator of
Superman could really have been a little more
responsible with the invention of this new genre,
because these things can really stick. He must
have been on some kind of unprescribed medicine,
because I really don't want to assume that there
really could be a mind out there that could
think, without alien substances, "Hm, let's
see, this guy's going to be the ultimate champion
of truth and justice, so obviously I'm going to
make him the perfect physical specimen. Now, what
shall he wear? Dum de dum... suit of armour? No,
that would be a little archaic. Oh, I know! I'll
dress him like a fucking QUEER!"
And it caught
on. It really caught on, presumably through
fascination, because Superman came out in a time
when going out without your shirt cuffs showing
was considered something of a faux pas. Come on,
pop culture, it's the 21st century. You see a lot
weirder outfits on homeless people in the city
centre. isn't it about time we reconsidered the
cliche of the superhero costume?
Let's take a
look at some other well-known ones.
| Batman Batman's costume
- at least, the all-black one of later
years - is actually kind of cool, but the
problem with Batman is that he loses all
credibility when he's standing next to
the squeaky-voiced red and green mess he
calls Robin. Without Robin, he's a deadly
and foreboding vigilante, striking fear
into the hearts of wrongdoers. With
Robin, he seems more like some kind of
unusually liberal scout master. And when
you think about it, most of Batman's
villains are comparatively rather soberly
attired; usually just a variation on the
suit and tie. It comes to something when
it's down to the psychopaths and maniacs
to set civilised dress standards.
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Spider-man I'm sorry, but...
as much as Spider-man rocks socks off the
block, his outfit just doesn't say
'spider' to me. It says 'those new
full-body swimming costumes they wear at
the Olympics, taken a little bit too
far'. Now, Superman has the excuse that
he's from another planet, and perhaps his
parents took him to one too many showings
of Priscilla Queen of the Desert and left
him with some strange ideas of acceptable
Earth clothing. Batman has the excuse
that he's rich, and rich people are
either lunatics or surrounded by toadying
lackeys too scared to tell him he dresses
like a blind retard. Spider-man doesn't
have any excuse at all. He's supposed to
be a really clever college student. A
really clever college student who one day
said to himself "I will avenge my
uncle's memory by righting the wrongs of
society, but that can wait until I've
made myself a FABulous outfit." He
didn't want to go out with Mary Jane
because it would've put her in danger?
Bollocks. He didn't want to go out with
Mary Jane because he prefers cock.
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I
would just like to apologise to all gay people. I
have nothing but respect for the gay community
and their courageous abandonment of the
repressive society's anachronistic moral code,
and don't really think they all dress like
prannies. I'd also like to apologise to the cast
and crew of the Spider-man films for that last
paragraph, and, well, let's just say I apologise
to everyone in the world for this entire piece.
Except Stan Lee. He's a twat.
- Yahtzee
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2/8/04:
Lovely Lovely Girls
Before I begin,
I guess I should tell you that Chefelf, my long-term internet chummy
whom I almost certainly do not deserve, has
gotten me a gig writing posts in the Lockergnome.com games channel. Unpaid, of course, but
who knows where it could lead? I always knew that
if I just prevaricated long enough, sooner or
later writing jobs would come to me. I'll be
posting little bloggy posts there pretty much
every day, so check there regularly for bite-size
samples of my fantastic wit.
Okay, what are
we going to talk about today? Well, I thought I'd
give a discourse on monster trucks for a while,
then segue into discussing car engines, and
finish off by posting a number of pictures of hot
girls reclining in bikinis.
| My
favourite monster truck of all time
probably has to be the Timber Wolf,
pictured right, which once famously... Have they gone?
Right.
Sorry about that... that was all a
cunning scheme to get rid of all the
female readers, and the nancy boys
sympathetic with their point of view. To
appreciate today's article, you're all
going to have to become the big, burly
manly men we all are inside, so that we
can point and guffaw obnoxiously at this:
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Why We Like Girls
Now, the biggest
surprise to me was that this site still exists.
It's a Geocities Area51 page, for god's sake. The
last time anyone registered one of those, New
York had a skyline and Pokemon was still taken
seriously. Of course, knowing Geocities, the mere
act of linking to the page will no doubt bring it
crashing down like the Hindenberg, so I uploaded
a file of the bare text to here. Don't worry, you won't
be missing anything, besides a horrible layout
and some pictures of Sarah Michelle Gellar
simpering.
We don't know
who the author of this piece is. Sometimes I
think that crap like this spontaneously generates
if you get enough idiots together in the same
place. Let's assume this does have an author. Who
could this author be? I have some possibilities:
1. A man who has
never known the touch of a woman
2. A man who spent the first forty years of his
life locked in a romantic bookshop
3. A man who has somehow become romantically
involved with a mythical goddess
4. A man who has a full-size cut-out of the elf
chick from Everquest in his bedroom
5. The most pussywhipped man on Earth
6. A crafty girl
Let me tell you
something. Either this guy (we'll assume it's a
guy) has been going out with a different kind of
girl than the ones I'm familiar with, or he is
badly, badly deluded. Let's take a look at some
of his reasoning. I've coloured the little
queen's words pink because he's a little queen.
They
will always smell good even if its just shampoo.
OK, now I'm
certain he's never been in a relationship,
because he's clearly never been breathed on by a
girl first thing in the morning. His experience
of sniffing girls is presumably limited to
sniffing chairs they've just been sitting on, or
wandering around the park attempting to catch a
whiff of female joggers as they bounce by.
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How cute they look when
they sleep. I think he may be thinking
of puppies, but if he isn't, it becomes
ten times worse. We already know that
he's never been in a relationship, so the
only explanation for how he thinks he can
write about sleeping girls would be if
he's spent time up ladders with
binoculars watching slumber parties.
How cute they are when
they eat.
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We
get it, dude, you think girls are cute. You don't
have to list all the times of the day when
they're cute. They're not like phases of the
moon. Besides, I'm not following your logic with
this one. I only find girls cute when they're
eating hotdogs or foot-long sub sandwiches, and
in both cases 'cute' isn't exactly the word I'd
use. So, what next? How cute they are when they
breathe?
Because
they are always warm even when its minus 30 out
side.
That's not
because of girl magic, you twat, it's because of
the circulatory system, and maybe you haven't
noticed, but men have one too. Besides, my
girlfriend takes great delight in sticking her
hand down the back of my shirt, and let me tell
you, it's always like chucking an eskimo spider
down my collar. And keep in mind that we live in
Australia. In Australia, if you're not
sweltering, you're either underwater or dead.
The
way they look good no matter what they wear.
Okay, matey, I'm
not going to tell you to go outside, because I
fear the shock would annihilate your brain. But
have you ever watched Sex and the City? You know
how the main character looks like a horse that's
been put through the Cenobite-o-matic from
Hellraiser 2? Well, in the real world, a lot of
women are even less attractive than that.
The
way they fish for compliments even though you
both know that you think she's the most beautiful
thing on this earth.
Jesus, you're a
pussy. When you cross the road, do they have to
erect a sign saying 'CAUTION: BIG PUSSY
CROSSING'? Let me tell you something. You're the
kind of bloke who gets dumped for being 'too
clingy', and then spends the next twenty years
following his ex around going 'I'm not clingy!
I'm not clingy!' never realising the bitter irony
of it all until you get the restraining order.
How
cute they are when they argue.
Or, to put that
another way, "How cute they are when they're
screaming at you to stop sniffing them in the
park".
The
way she says "lets not fight anymore"
even though you know that an hour later....
| An hour
later WHAT? You'll fuck? You'll bake
cookies together? Oh, I see, you'll be
fighting again. And this is a reason why
you like girls? Make no mistakes, Mr.
Anonymous - you're the bitch in this
relationship. The
way they kiss when you do something nice
for them.
If I did
all the washing up and Sarah expected to
pay me back for it with one measly snog
before going back to Ape Escape, I'd sulk
so hard that rascally children will come
around and use my lower lip as a diving
board. That's the kind of relationship we
have. We keep the duties even, and I
don't tie a ribbon around my dick and
call it a birthday present.
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The way they hit you and expect it
to hurt.
You know, we're
an enlightened race, now, mister. If your spouse
is abusing you, you don't have to put a brave
face on it anymore, there are hotlines you can
ring. Hey, suddenly this document makes a lot of
sense if you imagine that, just prior to writing
it, the author was concussed with a rolling pin.
The
way you miss them.
I'm assuming the
absent second half of this line is "when you
hurl throwing knives at them, giving them good
reason to come and beat you up again. Help me,
somebody."
The
way their tears make you want to change the world
so that it doesn't hurt her anymore.....Yet
regardless if you love them, hate them, wish they
would die or know that you would die without
them... it matters not. Because once in your
life, whatever they were to the world they become
everything to you. When you look them in the
eyes, traveling to the depths of their souls and
you say a million things without trace of a
sound, you know that your own life is inevitable
consumed within the rhythmic beatings of her very
heart. We love them for a million reasons, No
paper would do it justice. It is a thing not of
the mind but of the heart. A feeling. Only felt.
Shut the fuck
up.
- Yahtzee
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29/7/04:
Neurotic Thriller
Could it be?
Have I actually written a movie review to go into
the 'reviews' section? And it's an
erotic thriller? Yes indeedy-doody-do. It's a
review of some film called I Like To Play Games Too, starring Some Woman and
Some Woman's Tongue.
Go read it before I box your ears
and kick you in the shins.
- Yahtzee
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26/7/04:
Can I Play, Daddy?
It took three
days for my patience to give out. I added a walkthrough to the 7 Days site.
- Yahtzee
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23/7/04:
Why I'm So Great
Just as I
suspected, upload a new game and expect fifty
billion bug reports by the following morning.
Well, I hopefully fixed most of the major and
common ones people had, and I uploaded it again,
so you can download it again if it's important to
you. I was kind of expecting this 'cos this game
has some of the more complex programming I've
ever done.
Oh yeah, and I'm
going to let all you stuck people stew for a few
more days, then give a link to the solution. This
is so you don't all cheat all the way through in
one go, you big twerps.
- Yahtzee
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22/7/04:
Seven Days Eclectic
Okay, here we
go. I'm releasing 7 Days A Skeptic. It's been
tested enough over the last few days, and fingers
crossed all the really serious bugs are out.
You can see the
page I made for it here, or if you're one of
those grabby sorts, you can download the game
directly from here.
7 Days A
Skeptic, as should be clear enough, is the sequel
to 5 Days A Stranger, the multiple-award-winning
horror creation of mine. Now, I received a nifty
amount of e-mails asking me if I was going to put
Trilby in another game, and now it's time to
disappoint those people.
7 Days is set
four hundred years after 5 Days, on an
exploratory scout ship charting a distant galaxy.
Trilby is long dead, and the memory of DeFoe
Manor is confined to myth, legend and ancient
history. The ship's crew of six have discovered
an unidentified object floating in space - what
appears to be an unprotected metal locker.
Well, I'll let
the game tell the rest. Enjoy.
- Yahtzee
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19/7/04:
Gay Gaytress Gayssic
It's funny how
things look in retrospect. Hitler, for example,
was no doubt kicking himself in his bunker as he
looked back over the last few years, and realised
that perhaps seizing power just to murder an
entire race of people might have been a rather
wanky thing to do. I myself look back over works
I wrote as recently as six months ago, and cringe
so hard that my buttocks fly off like bum
rockets.
A few years ago,
before I left England, I was quite the avid
player of Team Fortress Classic. TFC, for the
uninitiated, is a multiplayer mod for Half-Life
which allows people to roleplay as a soldier who
dies and is resurrected every fourteen seconds,
like Jesus only more hardcore. Oh, how I enjoyed
playing TFC back then, dear reader. I was even in
a clan for a short period, and fortunately I left
before they realised I was crap.
Anyway, after a
while, I stopped. I'd acquired a new version of
TFC or a new version of Gamespy or something and,
whichever it was, the bloody game stopped
working. I shrugged my shoulders shadly, and got
on with my life. It was only recently, coming to
Australia and allowing Mr. ADSL to set up home in
the new computer, that I was able to play TFC
again.
"Goodness
me," I found myself thinking. "I used
to avidly play this game? With the benefit of age
and wisdom, I realise that it is quite gay."
Why is it quite
gay, you ask? Well, if you'll have some fucking
patience, I will tell you.
TFC has nine
different character classes you can play as. I've
dabbled with all of them and there is a situation
in which they would all be useful, that situation
being National Gay Day. Here's my roundup.
1. Scout
The scout is the fastest class, so in
order to balance that out, he's significantly
less strong than thin air. Seriously, all you
have to do is trip him over and his entire
skeleton will disintegrate the instant he hits
the floor. His job is to run into the enemy base
at full speed, screaming his head off, and be
instantly reduced to coleslaw by enemy fire. He
then comes back to life and reports everything he
has learned about the enemy base to his team.
Generally this will be along the lines of
"It's exactly like our base, only a
different colour. I didn't get to see much of it
as it was a total blur for the three point two
seconds that passed before I found myself
occupying the same space as about four thousand
bullets."
2.
Heavy Weapons
From the opposite end of the
spectrum, we have the Heavy Weapons Guy.
He gets about three feet of armour over
every inch of his body and a Gatling gun
the same size as his atrociously large
penis. This of course means that he can
barely move, and needs to get his
teammates to wheel him onto the
battlefield on one of those trolleys from
the Silence of the Lambs. While his gun
is indeed powerful and badass, it's also
about as accurate as a drunk gorilla
trying to put a thread through a needle,
and runs out of ammo after about ten
seconds. And what are you then? You're
some fat guy who can't move sitting in
the path of heavy enemy fire, holding
what might as well be the world's biggest
toilet roll holder. |
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3.
Pyro
The Pyro, in his jolly flameproof suit,
gets a flamethrower, a gun that fires incendiary
rockets, and incendiary grenades. Sometimes he
lies awake late at night, thinking "Why does
everything I do have to do with fire? Is that all
I am? Why does no-one ever want to see my pencil
sketchings, why is it always 'Oh, Pyro, go set
fire to that bloke, would you?'" Then he
cries like a little girl. In his defense, though,
he's handy around Heavy Weapons Guys, 'cos he can
run around them spraying them with fire and
laughing with glee as their gatling bullets
seriously menace the wallpaper.
4. Medic
The medic is a happy little flower
child, dedicated to the wellbeing of all mankind
that's the same colour as him. He has a medkit in
a box which he uses to heal people by smacking it
in their face a few times. Some of you may
recognise this technique from the episode of ER
entitled "The Day Carter Stopped Giving A
Shit". The helpful little goblins that live
in the medkit are sophisticated enough to
differentiate between teams; they will heal your
team and give the enemy syphilis. So you can't
try to patch up a wounded enemy should you ever
want to recreate a heartwarming scene of mercy
from some gay war film.
5.
Soldier
Ah, the 'soldier', prince of the
unspecific terminology. He's really just a rocket
launcher guy. His deadly rockets are best foiled
by getting out of the way, although don't feel
pressured to do so, as the rockets are kind
enough to move at slow walking pace. Chances are
they'll never even reach you, as on the way
they'll be head-butted by heavy weapons guys who
wish to end their disease of a life.
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6.
Engineer
The engineer is perhaps the most
important player to any team wishing to
mount a strong defence. His wizardry with
a wrench allows him to build mounted
sentry guns. Or rather, mounted sentry
gun, for he can only have one. Having
built one, he then sits next to it
twiddling his thumbs, waiting for an
enemy to come in and get splatted against
the wall. Playing as the engineer,
therefore, makes for a very contemplative
game, not unlike fishing. Incidentally,
if the engineer smacks a teammate in the
teeth with his wrench, it regenerates
their armour. He discovered this one day
while playing a hilarious if somewhat
unsophisticated practical joke. |
7.
Demoman
The demolitions expert's skills are
somewhat limited in the sniper-ridden
battlefield. He can lay explosives to blow
blockages out of the enemy's back passage, but
beyond that he's pretty much total crap. His main
weapon is a grenade launcher, for god's sake,
largely considered by me (and therefore everyone)
to be the stupidest FPS weapon of all time. But
wait, it gets better: you get another one! Yes,
you get two grenade launchers. It's like raping
someone anally, then apologising by doing it
again.
8.
Sniper
TFC is a game of many layers which can
be played in many different angles. If you play
as a sniper, for example, it suddenly because a
point-and-click adventure. An adventure game
where there's only one puzzle repeated many, many
times. Use Gun On Man. It's a very popular class
with beginners for obvious reasons, but if you
choose it then I want you to know that I believe
you are gayer than John Q. Gay in Gayland on Gay
People Get In Free Day.
9.
Spy
Now, this is the class of a
manly man. Leave the heavy weapons guys
and the scouts to the battlefield to
attempt to deflect bullets with their
forehead; the spy takes the subtler
approach. A man alone, sneaking in the
enemy base through the back door,
tip-toeing past the respawn dropping
grenades as he goes. He gets hallucinogen
grenades and a tranquilliser gun, but
just as you're thinking he's a soft
touch, he also has a knife that makes
people EXPLODE like a Christmas turkey
with a grenade up its arse. The spy's
main selling point, though, is that he
can disguise himself as an enemy class.
It's not as useful as it sounds. There's
no class you can disguise yourself as
that wouldn't look suspicious running
into its own base, tossing grenades under
the sentry guns. You could try to go as a
medic, but then you run the risk of an
enemy running in front of you expecting
to get healed, leaving you in a very
awkward position, from which the only
escape is to ventilate his face. |
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Oh
yeah, and any day now:
BAM!
- Yahtzee
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16/7/04:
Yes Indeed
No update this
week, 'cos I'm rather hard at work on my current
little fancy. Er... I know I've sworn a solemn
oath never to reveal what I'm up to until it's
done, so that the option to bail out is always
available to me, but... well, I'm nearly
finished, and a little bit of hype never hurt. So
here's a visual clue, and it's all you're getting
for now.
- Yahtzee
updates - features - essays - reviews - comics - games - novels - about - contact - forum - links
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