Thursday, March 31, 2011


I'm not really sure why I bought this. I've never really played any Pokemon related videogames and I'm certainly not one to ever admit to "playing Pokemon related videogames." My main experiences with Pokemon have been through high school, and, naturally, was the lamest thing you could ever be into while trying to dress cool and learning how to smoke. I had to hide my curiousity, out of necessity and in achieving an overall badassness.

PS -- I never achieved it.

Of course, as I do with anything I'm into, I spent most of the time vocally expressing how stupid Pokemon was and then not leaving my house until I secretly got at least two episodes under my belt. Preferrably the one's with Bulbasaur. If it was Meowth heavy, I didn't feel right. Team Rocket is kinda weird.

I'm not sure when the switch happened, but I basically went from cynical, hate-filled butthole to a guy who may or may not mind getting a tattoo of a Pokeball. It wasn't the greatest or the coolest hobby to get into while finishing up a high school career, but once you actually sit down and watch what's going're hooked. You can't not fall in love. And I did. Hard. My fascination, as I'm sure many others can agree, comes from nearly every facet of the show. Every new question and desire to know more and more opens up a floodgate of even more questions and concerns.

What's in a Pokeball? Is it larger than it looks inside? Is the capturing, training and fighting of Pokemon accepted by animal rights groups? Are Pokemon even considered animals? Could they be another being entirely? These are the questions that keep me coming back for more. These are the questions that start up awkward, babbling drunk-talk at the bar. It's pretty uncool to touch base on all these points while inebriated, especially in a crowd of twenty-somethings. So unless those twenty-somethings are secret Poke-fanatics, then you are, unfortunately, an asshole.

I'm still stuck on the first 150 Pokemon. The best of the best. The fucking classic stuff, man. These were the first to initially be introduced, and I can't for the life of me accept anything that's come after. None of the newbies have been personally explored and dreampt about, and although it's heartbreaking to think of all the treasures I'm missing out on, I feel that I can live past my failure to accept this ultimate overhaul. Plus, c'mon, do you know how hard it is to memorize 150 different fake species of animal-alien-things?

Now, at this point, I'm so far behind Poke-lore it's embarrassing. I've at least seen a few of the movies and occassionally glance at the overpriced packs of cards in Toys R Us. If we're talking about video games? Count me out. The last game I played involved taking photos of Pokemon, and that was just plain stupid. In hindsight, it kinda sounds fun to snap photographs of Pokemon in their natural habitat. Stupid, but fun.

So, I just felt...inclined to pick up Pokemon's latest DS game, Pokemon Black. It just felt good and right. The comforting thought of once again jumping headfirst into the Poke-Universe seemed welcoming and warm. This is a beautiful thing, people. And as they've been doing for years, there's another version (White version) that features another hundred or so Pokemon to catch throughout the game, and for us completists, forces us to buy both of these two damn versions. There is zero warmth in that. I take it all back. Alright, let's get to it:

Wow. I have no idea what this is about or who those absolutely hip kids are, but from the back of the game alone, I'm promised a pig-thing and a Poke-adventure in a thriving, city landscape.

From what I've gathered, Pokemon Black is set in the city, while Pokemon White takes place in a more green, forest-y atmosphere. I had to get Black.

You see, I love videogames set in a big city. Just love it. Maybe it's because I never grew up in a large, city landscape, or the violent realization that actually living, commuting or stepping foot in a big city totally sucks ass and has turned me off of cities forever. I don't actually wanna be in a real city, and much prefer the fake kind. Gimme a week long bender in New York and I'm fine. I'll check out a few bars, hit up a few museums and watch some free HBO in my hotel room. Anything past those seven days, though, I'm the guy in a New York alleyway eating cats. So far, I've been playing it for thirty minutes. I've already been introduced to my new friends, have been given a brand new Pokemin (the pig-thing!) and went through each room in every house in the neighborhood trying to find secret stuff.

Turns out, I've yet to advance past that neighborhood, and said neighborhood held zero secrets. In any videogame where you're encouraged to move over furniture, rummage through dumpsters or wander aimlessly through the grass for clues and hints, I will do it. And I will waste so much time doing so. I've realized that anything that's become inane and monotonous, I become fervid and obsessed. Even the most mundane tasks in any game (and this game is just loaded with bullshit) will become the only thing I can and want to do. There was a time, in my darkest days, where catching every fish and bug in Animal Crossing was a key element to the continuation of my life. I was nothing without returning all letters sent to my house, I was a fool not to plant as many apple trees to be picked and sold for new household goods and accessories. I had to see that Goddamn dog strum a banjo in the cafe on Sunday nights.

Seriously. I kind of made it my "weekend thing."

Your main objectives are smothered in endless walking around, searching and adventuring (which is fun!) but the only thing I don't like is the turn-based fighting engine. I've always hated the idea of being attacked, then attacking, then waiting to be attacked again. It's a bizarre version of actual fighting, and I never understood it. It really is the only low-point of the game, where I'd much rather battle my Pokemon Street Fighter style. Hell, let's do it up like Mortal Kombat. I'd love to rip out Clefairy's stupid spine.

It's so cute! So square! So BLACK!

Overall, it's a good game. I mean, I don't understand what I'm doing besides the obvious (gotta catch 'em all) but it's fun. It's most excellent for long tours with the band and long dooks on the john. Call me disgusting and unhygeinic, but I do my best work while on the toilet. Ever wrangle a feisty Oshawott while taking a dump? It's exquisite.

Sunday, March 20, 2011


Superhero masks?! Superhero masks!

Superhero masks!

This is from Marvel's "Superhero Squad" line of toys, a line tailor-made and intended for the younger Marvel fans. I always thought this was a cool route for Marvel, featuring all your favorite characters in small, cutesy form, spanning the most beloved characters to the more obscure. Already a TV cartoon and a videogame, I don't think it's doing too bad. I know kids must love these, and although it seems like it's all there is the way of modern, accessible Marvel merch these days, I can love it, too.

Now, I've always wanted to be a superhero. The closest I've come to making that an actuality is owning a ton of crappy Spawn shit and having the ability to sleep for a good eleven hours at a time. The Justice League may turn up their nose at my resume, but I'm certain there's a spot for me in the Justice Society. Way more liberal over there.

I can definitely see these masks going over well with any kid. As a full grown adult, I find the idea of parading around as an X-Man to be fun and rousing, so anyone under the age of twenty-six is bound to get down. Just thinking about slapping on Captain America's trademark identity invokes and incites a desire to fight and kick. I'm just begging for a world where supervillians existed and karate-chopping them in the chest was both invited and awarded. It's a solid testament to the theory that if you put on anything that implies heroism via violence, violence will be had. Even wrapping a towel around your neck makes you want to jump off the roof in attack mode. You can look up to the Green Lanterns' moral code and healthy, happy way of protecting life and all that is good and wonderful as much as you like, but you can't deny the fact that they're still ramming skulls into brick walls and bodyslamming people in supermarkets.

Davey bought a bunch of these (Iron Man and Spider-Man are available, too) and acted only as Davey would -- by attempting to rub his newly prized goods in my face. I was, as per usual, heavily hungover, and the idea of covering half my head with hard plastic didn't see too thrilling to me at the time. Davey walked away defeated, and I crashed out on the floor to "Prayer of the Rollerboys."

But something happened that night. My dreams were more vivid that usual, featuring an intensity I haven't experienced in a long time. Between the usual dream-topics such as waking up late for something important, being stabbed in a dirty alleyway or of Corey Haim and I teaming up to take down drug-peddling Nazis, I dreampt of costumed heros. I dreampt of those damn masks.

The next day, I went out a got a pair for myself. I would have bought all four, but Iron Man is played out and I'm not entirely convinced that a Spider-Man mask is equal to what he usually wears, which is, like, a face-hood or something. And it's more of a fabric as opposed to a plastic. We can argue all you want, but in my opinion, it's plausible that Wolverine and Captain America's masks are made of a plastic-like material. Therefore, these Captain America and Wolverine masks are superior to Iron Man and Spider-Man's masks. My money went to the right place.

Although I would have bought them anyway, I tried them on, and surprisingly, they aren't too snug and don't look THAT bad on my huge head. Figuring that the ideal head-size is that of an eight year old, I feel like I won this round. Round Two: Cheap Material Test.

It's actually made of a decent plastic! I feel like can at least take a softball to the dome, or a light judo-chop. Also, play-time will not be halted by anything breaking or falling apart when your buddy gets too into his role and socks you in the face. As required, you will be punch him back, 'cause that's what superheroes do. This is a good thing!

I'm really digging the Captain America mask over there, man. It's nice to have some Cap in my life. The blue is bold and the wings are just plain cool, and can easily be snapped off in a tribute to Ant-Man. I know Ant-Man doesn't have a giant "A" on his forehead, but just go with me. We're in the middle of some playtime here.

The Wolverine mask, though, is tops. All nice and pointy, perfect for snikting and bubbing and trying to look like a bad-ass. Kinda hard, though, since you're wearing a bright yellow Halloween mask. It's also tough to achieve a sense of bad-assness when you're recreating the biggest bad-ass in Marvel comics, I realize. You're better off pretending to be a low level character, like Toad. Or Jubilee.

I take that back. I love that raincoat. So much.

Alright. I know and am well aware that I've got the sideburns, and God forbid, I'm actually thinking about adding a bright red "X" to the arm of my leather jacket. But please, guys, please don't bring me down to such a sad estate of affairs by having me post a photo of myself in this mask. It's weak, it's sad and I don't want to end up on the internet like the "Tron guy." I'm already half-retarded on YouTube, and my Facebook posts paint me as a drunk, confused man. Anything is possible these days.

But then again...what if it's the opposite of my expectations? What if it all out? What if I become an important, high profile internet celebrity? What if I'm seen by a casting director and hired to play the lead role in a new Wolverine film? What if?! OH GAWD WHAT IF!!!

Oh, yeah, baby. Oh yeah.


Verdict: FUN. Get 'em, wear 'em, jump around and do a lot of kicking! Rock and roll!

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

"Peanuts" Shower Curtain & Me.

This is absolutely pleasant.

I picked this up at Target last night, which was supposed to be a trip to ONLY buy the immediate essentials, and ended up being a grandiose display of gluttony. It's no secret that at Target, you're guaranteeed to spend at least over a hundred bucks at any given time, on everything you do not need at all. Obviously, essentials will be damned, 'cause the black-hole of Target is wide and wholly accepted by the immediate masses. No one seems to complain, or is alarmed or worried at the fact they just spent all their money on toilet paper and a few jumbo bags of Reese's Pieces. This is the problem with Target and mega-marts in general. It's a conniving, bizarre maze of commercialism and overconsumption, a constant bully of bullshit being pumped into the meek and innocent and poor.

Naw, I dunno. People just like to buy stuff.

Without Target and it's continual flow of unique and needless junk, how else would I be able to own a set of elegant AC/DC pint glasses? Or a dorky shirt I thought looked cool but soon realized it wasn't at all and is now in my "Never Ever Wear Section" of my closet? Tell me, where would I be without a Peanuts themed shower curtain? On second thought, don't tell me. I may cry.

There's not much to say, really, except that I love this. Over the last twenty-four hours, I've become enamored with this bright, red and white masterpiece of fabric (yes, it's made of cotton and is very legit) and I'm drawn to use the bathroom at any chance I get, now more than ever. And with my current turd track-record, you'd swear I was off doing heavy drugs in the bathtub or recreating the episode of "Roseanne" where DJ learns how to jerk off. That was a good episode.

Admittedly, I never understood Peanuts. For a young kid, it was never really all that funny, and when compared to the then current Far Side, Calvin and Hobbes, etc. littering the funny papers, you'd think Peanuts was trying to tell you something deep and meaningful only the brilliant or painfully disturbed could possibly understand. Or it was just telling you to "fuck off."

Maybe it was a highly sophisticated brand of comedy, with the humor and laughs based in the intricate art and detailing? Who knew?

Turns out, I love and have forever loved Peanuts. Maybe more the idea of Peanuts, as lame as that sounds. I like it to just BE there. The television specials have forever been a part of all my favorite holidays, and that damned Charlie Brown Christmas Tree is just the cutest thing ever. There's a certain calming nature to Peppermint Patty and Pigpen and Linus, a sensation of wonder and magic, a "gang's all here" mentality keeping you on track, a smooth joy and certainty that everything will be alright.

Okay. You're absolutely right in saying that nearly all of the newspaper's comics are total shit, but to me, it's not about chuckles and knee-slaps. It's somehow transcended past making you giggle and guffaw. It's about buying that huge Sunday paper at the end of the week, it's about throwing away all the coupons and electronics store crap, it's about knowing Garfield will be there to help you skirt away the Sunday blues. Both B.C. and Haggar the Horrible will give a wink and a nod and Blondie will both delight and charm. As shitty as your life is, the Peanuts crew will make everything better. All these comics will suck MAJOR ASS, but they're there for you. Your friends are fucking there for you, man.

I need to stop drinking. Anyway.

For a while now, I've been trying to locate the fabled "sushi shower curtain," a full, plastic triumph showcasing the art and wonder of all that is sushi. I've only seen it once, in a hip, cool-dude clothing store, and online. Of course, online, they are currently and seemingly forever sold out, and I refuse to buy online, 'cause that's cheating. It was to complete the Japanese theme I had going in my bathoom, which has now mutated into something else entirely. I've gone from "everything green" to "everything red" to it's now current state, "Peanuts curtain, green bath mats and I don't give a fuck." It's all around freeing, but utterly chaotic. Someone with a hyper-intense fear of dissorder may or may not have their head explode in my bathroom. I guess Buddha statuettes and William Shatner posters will just have to get along. Sorry, guys.

Uggh. See? It just doesn't feel right.

But while in Target, I actually needed to buy a shower liner thing, so adding another twenty bucks to the bill for a curtain covered in dog gags and rain jokes didn't seem too excessive. But you know the shower liner thing? It's that other piece of plastic that sits behind your classy curtain and helps ward off a wet bathroom floor. I hate a wet bathroom floor. I also hate when that piece of plastic gets super cloudy and slimey. I'm to the point where I dare not set foot near the bottom of that liner, in fear of being infected by that discolored mess. I'd like to just stock up on plastic liners, changing them out every few weeks or so, but that's so unbelievably wasteful that I oh fuck I bought six of them. Al Gore is going to kill me.

I know it's just the aftermath of a soapy lifestyle, but it's still pretty brutal. All I know is that when my toe rubs against something that feels like a jellyfish, I'm out, game over. It feels like a jellyfish, people. Can you not feel my pain through my words?

For the good of all that is happy and pure and hypnotically boring, this is an absolute must-have. My wildly hodge-podge bathroom and it's refusal to be cohesive with any pattern or direction has now been pushed into an even bigger mess, but if you're like me, quick and confusing snippets of Peanuts comics will delight and amaze, even on the worst of days. I shower in peace now. And I love that. Generation after generation of mildy entertained newspaper comics enthusiasts can't be wrong, this Peanuts shower curtain is an absolute steal! Well, if you can't find that sushi one. Or anything with a robot on it. Or Pokemon themed.

I feel ya, buddy.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Los Favoritos Taco Shop!

I'm sick. And it sucks.

You see, I'm into getting sick. I'm actually a fan of it. Through my years of highschool, I have been honing my delicate craft, and have grown to quite enjoy it. At first, it was out of necessity, a school paper was due, a big test was headed my way, wasn't in the mood to go to fucking school, etc. Over time, it became a tradition, a wonderful game of faking and purposely getting sick just to stay home. I'd have more luck with the former than the latter, but every now and again, my throat was vaguely scratchy, my nose slightly twitchy and BAM, I'm staying home. God bless my mother for believing my lies, but at least I graduated and now I have a fine appreciation for taking a step back and enjoying life. I'm treading dangerously close to "Ferris Bueller" shit right here, I know, but it's true. Why spend so much time at school? Why work your life away? Coniving and scamming my way outta class was a perfect chore is achieving a "mental health day," where I'd do nothing but play videogames and read trashy crime novels. It was pointless and annoyingly square for a high schooler, but it sorted my brain out and kept me from losing my cool. Also, I watched a ton of The Wonder Years and The Facts of Life.

These days, there's no real point in faking sick. I can do pretty much what I want, with my usual highest priorities being in "writing a new album" and "waking up before noon." But every now and then, I really just wanna escape. I want an excuse to throw my phone under the couch, I want a reason to not jump on Facebook every forty-five minutes. And I do get my reason. In a crippling, shitty flu.

Yeah, I'm the type of guy who absolutely begs and pleads to get sick, just for an opportunity to lay on the floor for a few days and not give a fuck about anything. If you're coming down with a cold, I will make sure you at least breathe into my face for a minute and if I catch wind of "something going around," I will harbor that thought until that "something" is magically manifested and is mine. I train my mind like a ninja-warrior.

Thing is, every time I've intentionally put myself in a position to catch something, it never works. As is life, it does work when I least expect it, and when I least want it.

Right now, I have the flu. In two days, I'm going to see Motorhead. I might be sick for this. Then, we will be playing a few shows. Even worse, I might be sick for that, bringing down a whole new world of shame and anger into my life. You see, we never cancel shows. The only time I can really remember was for family reasons, and another where Davey had a massive case of the shits. Seriously. It was, like, years ago, and we were supposed to play New Mexico. He must have eaten a troft of mayonaisse and pickles or something, because we had to wrap that show-cancellation up quick.

Point is, we'll usually trudge through and play while loaded with viruses and disease, not a problem. The only problem is attempting to sing decently, because when you're a three-piece band, you do NOT want to have one of your two lead singers blow his voice. Which I usually tend to do whilst sick. It's become a fear of mine, and absolute "dark place" when thinking of that possibility. I hate to croak, crack and garble on stage. I hate to think that people will walk away dissatisfied and pissed off. What will I do? How will I defeat the obstacles laid out in front of me? What route shall I take in beating the odds against a beat up throat and gnarled up singing voice?


I figure, throughout my singing career, nothing has ever worked in prevention and defense. I've tried teas, honey, cough drops, lozenges, you name it. This good ol' boy just doesn't wanna play that game no more. This good ol' boy is tired of throat tyranny and homeopathic hullabaloo. This good ol' boy is gonna get himself a delicious burrito at Los Favoritos Taco Shop in Tempe, Arizona.


Los Favoritos is a pretty fantastic place. Centered in the middle of strip mall containing a music venue, blood donating bank and an army recruitment center, you better believe the clientele is broad and unique. It's right in the middle of a college town, so yeah, it can also double as a pretty hip, Saturday night taco shack frequented by the painfully cool tattooed kids and tipsy party chicks. I know and claim that the food is good, but I'm becoming well aware that the food is even better drunk. I know, because I've been there. It's so much better.

It really does go from being a youth hotspot to a decent family restaurant, raising the place's credibility and success in pleasing everyone in town with chimichangas and quesadillas, despite any sorta built-in demographic you'd imagine they'd have. Everyone likes this place. The service is quick, the food is cheap and filling and you're bound to at least see one person walk in without a shirt.

They have all the authentic, Mexican cuisine you can imagine, even upping the ante with avocado burgers, cheeseburgers and fries. Wash that shit down with some horchata, son.

But their secret weapon? The one thing that will keep you coming and your gut busting? THE LOS FAVS BREAKFAST BURRITO.

Yes, yes I will try you, breakfast burrito.

Roll up, place your order, party down. Like I said, they've got it all when it comes to Mexican food. The portions are huge, so even if you order something that stinks, you can eat the barrel of rice and beans on the side. So good.

I know it's not the greatest move to eat anything but chicken noodle soup and green tea when you're sick, but like I said, there's no hope for me these days. Nothing really helps this singer's torn throat, save for a greasy burrito and a hilarious, uplifting movie. I'm going with "Animal House" tonight.

But while you wait, why not enjoy some horrendously outdated arcade games?

I haven't seen a Cruis'n' USA in years, let alone the "Exotica" version. I'll always remember how half-naked women in bikinis would wave a checkered flag at the beginning of each game, signaling the start of the race. Also, how "exotica" was amazinlgy close to "erotica." That was pretty cool. I was a perv.

Killer Instinct! And Area 51! Both were always pretty decent, but I'd say Area 51 garnered more of my attention. They combined real-life actors and so many exploding oil drums you couldn't resist. At the time, it was pretty Goddamn realistic looking, and a game where your sole purpose was to shoot people in the face was all the more perfect. It satisfied your bloodlust and your extraterrestrial curiosities. I remember Killer Instinct as being like Mortal Kombat, but with more monsters. Skeletons with swords, cyclops looking freaks, oily dudes with boxing gloves, everyone was represented in a bizarre arena of pain. I recall renting it for the N64, but instantly regretting the move, because I KINDA HATE FIGHTING GAMES. See: previous blog entry.

Doesn't really matter now, though, 'cause the entire area was shut down and turned off. Kinda makes me sad. I really could have gone for an erotic shootout with boxing skeletons.

This, my friends, is what we like to call a "donkey dick."

It really is amazing, and although the picture doesn't do it justice, the weight of it alone could probably put a knot on someone's head, a true testament to it's power and glory. If you're in the area, definitely check this place out. If you're ever drunk, hungover or bored, this is the place to be. If you're trying to overcome a mild cold, with an achey back and a sinus headache, this is definitely not the place to be. But it sure does feel good. Rock and roll.:)

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Marvel vs. Capcom 3!

Well, it's that time again.

Every few months I go through a phase where I like to just...stop. Not necessarily meaning I'm gonna completely abandon reality, but just kick up my heels and disappear. I will eat, but only out of necessity. I will talk and communicate with others, but behind these dead, glassy eyes there's pure, black nothingness. I won't answer a single phone call, the sacred, wonderful and best-friend-internet is fully deserted and avoiding what's outside my apartment door becomes perfectly natural and sane.


Yeah. Videogames, man.

I fell into the trap, I bought Marvel vs. Capcom 3.

Let me just start off by saying that Marvel vs. Capcom is one of those games that I'm dying to wanna like. Everything works for me -- characters from the Marvel Universe mixed with characters in the world of Capcom (the usual suspects are adequately represented) coming together to offer up a face full of fists. The hyper-intense speed and graphics make it enjoyable to anyone who can paw at four buttons and a D-pad, and the pure value lies directly in beating the tar out of your friends and soon to be enemies. Shameless victory dances and hurtful gloating are encouraged, but not essential. Celebrate at your own risk.

Everything sounds good, right? Yeah, I guess so, since I spent sixy bucks on this bitch. But I figure my problem lies in the fighting game genre. Which, ya know, totally fucking sucks.

Okay, in all fairness, fighting games can be awesome. I just mentioned that the pure gold is a night of drunken, multiplayer madness, where nothing can come close to the electricity of beating "the guy who knows all the moves" by closing your eyes and throwing the controller against the couch. Button-smashers are a thrill-a-minute, and I've had my fair share of weekends ruined and friendships dissolved. My main complaint is that playing a game like this is so inherently boring, you might as well have bought a book. It's best with buddies, no doubt, and the only way to truly enjoy the game these days is online, but that's nerd shit, so avoid it at all costs.

But Marvel vs. Capcom is still, by default, a winner in my eyes. I was never big into the arcade game, but watching people pound at the controls to have Magneto pile-drive Wolverine was incredible. I've always liked this game, and could easily bypass all the fighting-game prejudice and hesitation I've harbored up over the years. The line to play was always too long and the winners were intimidating, though, so I never actually manned up and joined in. Who wanted to throw in a pocket full of change just to be publicly beaten and humiliated? Enter the videogame series in the privacy of your own home...enter Marvel vs. Capcom on Playstation.

I missed the first two, but not this time 'round. I've never played it, so my chances are pretty rockin' these days. Since most copies of MVC are around one-hundred bucks, with the sequel clocking in at a good seventy new, forty used...yeah, uh, no.

But here I am, ready to jump back in! New zest for life, newly acquired weeks off to blow, new videogame purchased, etc. It's true, my love and excitement for gaming rises and falls every two months or so, and it's a well known fact that I rarely even open up half of the things I buy, but at least I opened this, and that's the first step to recovery.

So with that...I got the third version, and so far so good. Packaging is nice, the game itself looks alluring and the checkout person at Best Buy wasn't a cute girl, because anytime it's a cute girl I'm either buying toys or black mascara. It's for my girlfriend, I swear.


Videogames and I have had a longstanding affair throughout my formative years. I respect videogames, and videogames destroy my life. It's a complicated relationship. But no other pasttime has united and brought together friends and family like videogames. No other activity has formed and molded my dull mind, sparking intimate memories from childhood and teen years.

I can remember losing my shit over the NES. Gameboy was the Essence of Life and Nintendo Power Magazine was absolute law and rule. Super Nintendo was brought to existance, and Star Fox and Doom were now my Masters. I remember being lucky enough to rent a Playstation from the local Blockbuster, crippling my dreams with Resident Evil and showing me the light with Destruction Derby. It was all so unbelievably real looking. Everything changed in that instant, man. THE FUTURE WAS NOW.

Enter N64, enter Goldeneye, enter the void. Don't lie, we were all onsumed by Goldeneye. When I should have been caring about school, making friends and talking to girls, I played some Goddamn Goldeneye. Multiplayer with anyone I could wrangle into my room, not allowing anyone to leave until proximity mines were a permanent household word for you, your family and your co-workers. You know Oddjob? Remember multiplayer in the Facility level? And how you could secretly spin around in the bathroom stall to get sucked up into the air duct, offering you the best hideout and aggravating shooting point until someone threw a bag of grenades up there? I LOVED THAT.

PS2 evolved, Xbox was created, everyone was happy, we all love life. I slowly weaved in and out of videogames throughout the remainder of highschool, rather choosing a path of 18+ goth nightclubs and "sitting at Denny's until 2:00AM."

Well, here I am right now and the game is incredible. Yeah, all you do is jump around and kick people in the throat, but the colors and speed is just outstanding. The Soulcaliburs and Mortal Kombats of the world have displeased me, but this is the dawning of a new era, and I like it. I like it a lot.

I assume it's like the last two, but more three-dimensional and fuller looking. Gameplay is quick and easy, and despite my initial quick-to-point-out-how-boring-games-like-these-are, it really is fun to claw, stab, maim and kill a bunch of comic book shmucks. I've been bested. Also, it stands to show that any game that can make She-Hulk attractive is a game you gotta play. Nothing makes you feel more creeped out and confused than getting a semi over a manly, muscle-bound superhero chick. Speaking of The Hulk...

Seriously, zoom in on this shit:

I have no idea who's idea it was to turn The Hulk into the weirdest looking Hulk ever, but it's oddly welcome. I don't hate it. It instantly struck up conversation among friends and was one of the initial details that pushed me into purchasing. He's just so unique and alive. He's a cross between Moe from the Three Stooges and an eggplant. He's just so human looking, and I'll be damned if he doensn't have the prettiest set of teeth I ever did see.

Verdict = FUN! Best with friends, but not too bad on a day you decided to call into work. I much prefer the Grand Theft Autos and first-person shooters, but this is definitely worth it. Recommended. Now grab your chums, snag a six-pack and party hard.