Hail To The King (Part 1)

Sam had wondered what the point of getting out of bed today was.

It had started whilst he was having his breakfast. It had been a quiet, stress-free week so far, full of absolutely nothing to bother him and all day to not be bothered in. Walter was dozing by his lap, still struggling with trying to be a morning dog, and although he'd grown as large as a lion by now the landlord had been strangely reluctant to complain. Things seemed to have finally quietened down, at last as far as the former Destined Hero was concerned, and no longer was life handing him any bum hands for the sake of it's own sick pleasures.

And then the Grandius had started beeping and babbling nonsense about dimensional breaches. Sam's first mistake had been to try and figure out what was going on, despite not understanding hadn't a lick of it - in fact, he hadn't been aware that the Grandius could sense things in other dimensions. Oh, sure, he'd experimented with its safety teleportation feature - Priority Three, to be exact - but he'd never really tested the full capability of it at all. And hey, the disturbance was only a few miles down the road...

Sam's second mistake was initiating Priority Three.

VROP.

And that was how he ended up in the wreckage of a village in a place he didn't recognize, with an equally-confused Walter by his side.

Things got even more confusing when, upon wandering out of the town, Sam located what he assumed were the people of the village, madly evacuating their former homes in a frenzy of panic. All his questioning could get out of them was that something had arrived from seemingly nowhere and trashed the village without breaking a sweat, and it was in the opposite direction he had come from. So Sam made his third mistake of simply flying back the way he'd come, using his newfound powers instead of walking.

It was, admittedly, a lot faster, so he arrived at the massive iron-gray, factory-esque building in a few minutes or so, wondering what on earth it was doing there. And then he ran away from the massive, rapid-firing gun turrets in almost half that amount of time, swearing like a sailor with a stubbed toe. But he'd lingered long enough to notice the familiar symbol plastered on the side - the double-headed, spread-winged crow of the Magpies, the criminal organization who he'd run into on more than one occasion and specialized in... well, being a criminal organization.

So what was it doing here, building factories and raiding towns?

Unfortunately, he never got enough time to figure that out by himself, because then he came face-to-face with a very large army. It was lead by some guy named Caleb, who happened to be the king of that particular piece of country, and had gone up in order to check out reports of super-powered people trampling his villages and ransacking his people. And, of course, when a dude lands in front of you in a pillar of flame, you're not exactly going to ask any questions. Especially when you've already been told about it by the evacuees of that village.

Sam did the sensible thing and surrendered.

He didn't know how long he'd spent in that prison. Not that it was uncomfortable or anything - the food was decent, the cell was comfy, but the chains clearly needed greasing because they chafed like crazy. But the former Destined Hero had no idea what day or the week it was when Walter suddenly prised his door open, took his sleeve in his jaws and lead him out of that camp and across a field or two to a hotel in some other village. On the morning when Walter trotted into his room with the Grandius in his mouth, wagging his tail happily, did he realize that his own dog seemed to know this strange new world better than he did.

So he had no complaints when Walter lead him out of the hotel and through a dozen more miles of countryside. It was here that Sam noticed something very odd indeed about this world - it was like looking at a patchwork quilt up close. One minute, he'd be walking past some farmland, then ten miles later it'd be all steampunk and copper, then farmland again, then early 20th century tech... The blond warrior had a bit of trouble wrapping his head around the whole thing, and wondered just what had happened to get things into such a state.

Eventually, he came to a very large market town, which seemed to be in the middle of a trading convention with a strange civilization of... well, the Grandius translated their name as "Skinweavers", so that was what he was gonna call them. Walter had indicated, by barking, that he ought to have a word with some of these people, and by this time he'd long given up on whatever reasoning the dog had on doing any of this. Also, he was tired, hungry and more than a little fed up with this shit. If the dog wanted him to speak to the scary face-painted tribesmen, then that's what he'd do.

Their first question, when he filled then in on the situation and what he needed, was wherever the local law enforcement could handle the issue. When he told them, in no uncertain terms, that this was extremely unlikely, they decided to take him to their leader instead.

Sam was really starting to regret getting out of bed.

Party Crasher (Belated Valentines Special)

The day had started so well, too.

Stanley didn't know much about Valentines Day, or how it was meant to work, having heard only second-hand reports from the others. But he'd decided that if there was any day that he could take a break from his work to show how much he appreciated Gemma, then that was the day. And if he was going to do that, he was going to do it the best way he possibly could, and in the best way he knew how. Hey, if there was anything he didn't get right, then it'd be the thought that counted, right?

The spot he picked for the picnic was perfect, too - overlooking a lake, the sun in the right position, peace and quiet far away from human habitation. Of course, some of the other hunters had raised eyebrows at his choice, and asked him if he really wanted to go there, but Stan couldn't see why. The place was almost uninhabited! There was no way anything could go wrong with this idea, he was sure of it - and if it did, he'd be more than ready for it.

Well, the day held out when the actual foray began. They reached the place in good time, and Gemma seemed to genuinely marvel at the natural beauty of the place. Stan had laid out the blanket and procured the basket, and the whole thing had proceeded very pleasantly, in the young hunter's opinion. The wine was accepted heartily, the food was complemented and everything seemed set to go absolutely perfectly. There were times where the boy had almost fancied his heart would burst out of his ribs from excitement.

That was when the Brachydios decided to crash the party.

Valentines (with thanks to RubyChao)

"Okay, well... good luck, bro."

That's all the advice Pit ccould give before Dirk, still smirking like a hyaena, strolled out of the house with his package under one arm. With a sigh and a shake of the head, Pit pushed the door shut until the latched clicked, signifying that, for whatever reason, his brother would not be back for a while.

Then he turned and strolled back into the living room, where Utsuho was lounging on the couch.

"Anything on telly?" he asks.

Utsuho shrugs. "Not yet... I think there's a good movie coming up, but it's not on for a while... What was Dirk doing, anyway?" she asks as she looks up at her boyfriend.

"Oh, he's off to deliver his Valentines present to Josephine," is the explanation. "And if I know my bro, which I do, I don't think he's gonna be back for some time..." Pit visibly shudders at this, as if knowing anything that could come from this would not be his definition of "good" at all.

"Oh, Valentine's day!" The Hell Raven perks up at this,eyes shining with interest. "Lady Satori told me about that once, but I don't really know much about it... it's about gifts and stuff, right?"

There is a pause as Pit tries to find the right words.

"Well... it's a bit more than that," he says, at last. "It's about showing that special person how much you care for them. How much they mean to you. And presents are a big part of it, yes, but it's kinda like Christmas in that regard. It's not about the receiving, it's the giving. It's about love." Sappy, yes, but exactly what you'd expect from Peter Angelos at this point, right?

Realization crosses Utsuho's face. "Oh... oh, I get it!" she cries. And then even further realization hits her, causing her to slump rather despondently into the couch. "But... I don't have anything for you, Pit... I didn't think I'd need to get anything so maybe I can go out now and find it if it's not too late?"

The angel gives a reassuring smile. "Sure, it's not too late. Don't worry. And I need to get something too, so... how about we both go, together?"

"Eheheh, thanks! Alright, let's go then!"

And thus, off the two went to get each other that special something.

-------

"Double Flying Cross Slash! NOW!"

The gigantic shere-like robot had already taken plenty of punishment, so when Heaven and Hel''s signature team attack came along it didn't stand a chance. In one fell swoop, the combined strike of Pit's Tiger Claws and Utsuho's boot carved a clean chunk right out of the midsection, obliterating precious wiring and circuitry. With a last, tortured groan, the mechanoid known as Helios toppled backwards, shedding components as it fell, to dash itself to pieces at last as it hit the ground with heavy clang.

Swooping around in a circle, the couple landed side-by-side to admire the wreckage of the latest Bonus Boss to fall victim to their team synergy.

"Whoo! That was pretty fun!" Pit grinned as he punched the air in triumph. "Nice moves, Okuu!"

"Hahaha, thanks!" was Utsuho's response. "You were pretty good yourself, it's nice that we haven't gotten rusty or anything!" With a nod of agreement, Pit led the way out of the room, and were soon exiting the Bonus Boss Pavilion with two free copies of Metroid Prime 3 under their arms - yet another game to add to Pit's ever growing backlog of the things. What had started out as a shopping trip, as one might have guessed whenever Kobbers get involved, had gone a bit off-track.

"...I bet this is a really rare kind of Valentine's thing," added Utsuho, after a moment's silence. "Pretty sure most people wouldn't go fight a dangerous robot to celebrate!"

"That's the Kobbers for you," Pit retorted as he turned to face his fiance, smiling. "We're not 'most people'. And I'm kinda glad we aren't~" he added as he took the opportunity and leaned in for a hug, which Utsuho gladly accepted.

There was a small pause as the two simply enjoyed the moment. And then the raven, remembering something, pulled away.

"So, um..." she tried. "This might sound awkward after we just had our date thing but... Can we still get some chocolate?"

 "Of course, Okuu."

-------

Meanwhile...

 

As the saying goes, that's our Dirky!

Hangover

The first sign that I'm awake is the volume of the television in my room.

"-has been found in an alleyway close to the Triden National Park. Forensic experts have been unable to identify the cause of death, but say that some sort of animal was definitely involved. Clark Wayne reports live from-"

It's enough to make me snap my eyes open, fright coursing through my body. Then I have to shut them again because the light from the screen is too bright, and the pounding headache is the second sign that I'm awake. Really you'd think it'd be the first one, since it is a planet-sized hangover and everything, but I suppose it was waiting to introduce itself after I heard the T.V. come on. Hangovers can suck like that. Makes you wonder why people bother with alcohol at all.

With a groan, I sit up in bed, but that only makes the pounding worse. There's a lot of questions in my head right now, all buzzing for attention, but the one that manages to barge it's way in front is "how much did I drink last night?" See, I have literally no tolerance for alcohol whatsoever - one shot of rum and vodka is enough to get me reeling - and I remember one of my flatmates managed to coax me into going out partying last night. But that's all I can remember clearly - the rest is a complete blur, so I know I must have gotten drunk at some point. Part of me wonders how much of it went up on Facebook or whatever.

I reach up to nurse my forehead, and two things make me freeze in horror. The first is the dried blood flaking off my fingers in shards and fluttering to the bedsheets. If I were anyone else, maybe I would have assumed I had some kind of accident, but instead I drop my hand to my mouth and yep, there's more around my lips and on my chin. Some of it even migrated up to my cheeks, and I have to boggle at how it got there.

The second, as I turn my head, flashes up on the television.

Jam vs. Peanut Butter

~RMS WILL OF IRON, G.S.O HIGH-SECURITY PRISON, ATLANTIC OCEAN~

Of all the places to keep supervillains, the RMS Will of Iron had two major advantages over the others.

Firstly, it was floating in the middle of the ocean. Any supervillain worth their salt knew that a prison in the middle of the ocean wasn't worth breaking out of. Guard dogs they could handle, electric fences and shield domes were easy enough, but the fickle mistress that was the sea was more daunting than a thousand dogs or twenty miles of fencing. What was the point of trying to escape if, almost immediately afterwards, you had to deal with sharks, currents and storms that made all the fanciest robot guards look pleasant by comparison? On the whole, anyone who ended up in here preferred constant boredom to the threat of drowning.

Secondly, it had the one thing no other major supervillain prison had tried - the counseling and rehabilitation center. The Global Superhero Operation had argued that, on the off-chance a villain was truly repentant of their crimes, then they should be given the opportunity to reinstate themselves as functioning members of society. This viewpoint was met with a lot of derision from the public at first, especially considering the damage supervillains did to major cities every year, but when Emperor Malady was released into the public and ended up with a well-paid financing job, you had to admire the results.

And it had seemed to be working for the man known as Doctor Vortex, too. He had come to the Will of Iron a gibbering wreck, babbling nonsense about his destroyed base and condiments that none could make sense of. But, piece by piece, he'd slowly been transitioning back into Damien Harolds, the mild-mannered - if somewhat jumpy - mathematician and science major from Manhattan. As long as you didn't put any spreadables near him, he was an affable chap who was easy to get along with, and the wardens had high hopes for his eventual release.

The fateful day started off like any other day. Damien had got up, got showered and dressed - all in a very punctual fashion, as was his way. He had walked into the communal kitchen area, ready to prepare himself a healthy breakfast of bran flakes and orange juice. He had just turned the television on - some asinine fashion show was on, but he couldn't care less - and had just poured himself out a rather measured dose of the cereal. So far, so good.

And then he'd turned to get the milk and saw a blue-coloured face upon the screen.

"That's right, y'all! My Super Swimwear Special begins this May, showing off all the hottest and skimpiest Fornax summer fashions live from the glitz and glamour of fa-bu-lous Las Vegas! So if you wanna get an eyeful of yours truly - and I know you do~ - hit up our website and buy yourself a ticket to this once-in-a-lifetime fashion opportunity! Featuring live music by Ironheade, Patrick O'Batahan and so much more, as well as free pizza to our first 5'000 lucky guests! This is Lisa, leaving you with..."

GLORP.

"CHIMICHANGAS!"

Three hours later, and the border patrol guards got the shock of their lives as a giant robot squid suddenly punched it's way out of the complex, dived beneath the ocean and vanished. Just how long it had been built in secret, or where the materials came from, none could say or even venture to guess. And the man on security that day, a notorious slacker and donut addict, was fired for not noticing the blaring alarms or the massive hole in the cellar wall where the machine had broken out as it first roared into action.

But the point was, Doctor Vortex had relapsed. And, more pressingly, escaped.

WTF Is Up With... Pooh's Adventures?

Nostalgia is a double-edged sword.

On the one hand, it influences such things as Kickstarter, where Mighty No. 9 and other retro-inspired creations can flourish, free from the more toxic influences of this cutting-edge world of ours. It's gratifying to see that the best of the old ways can persevere in a culture that normally won't even spare at glance at anything if it doesn't dynamically render ever drop of sweat on Marcus Fenix's forehead as he chainsaws yet another alien to death. And in many ways, we should be thankful that the things we were brought up on as kids shaped us to be the people we are, instead of decrying the new stuff that's trying to shape the kids of the future in the same way.

On the other hand, Pooh's Adventures.

The smiles are all false, trust me.

I hesitate to classify Pooh's Adventures as a web series, but that's the closest I can get to describing this loose collection of crossover films made by various different people. Mostly a YouTube thing, the basic premise of these films is to shoehorn Winnie the Pooh and his friends, along with fifty other characters from different franchises, into the plots and scenarios of other cartoons, films and related media with about zero respect for continuity, age groups or common sense. I can only assume this to be an offshoot of the Disney crossover stuff made by actually talented people, spawned from the flabby folds of nerds and dorks alike who want to imitate such grand works but only have Windows Movie Maker pre-installed on their laptops.

Just in case you think you've accidentally stumbled across one, keep an eye out for these reoccurring tropes that infect the genre like an inoperable cancer:

• The creator styles themselves as a "studio" much like Disney and Warner Bros., despite having none of the resources or talent. Usually have poorly-spelt usernames, or ones with "movies", "films" or "studio" in them.
• Each video begins with a lengthy series of idents or title sequences. Usually starting with the creator's own, but also adding in those from the franchises used. These can take up half the first video, in the worst cases
• The other characters are brought in through spliced-in footage. The intention is to assume the character's are performing the same actions in the footage, just in the new scene they are in. However, because the creator can't/doesn't cut out the background, it looks as though everyone's standing in different places.
• When a character needs to speak lines they didn't say in the source material, the footage is abruptly muted and subtitles are thrown in. These are uniformly white and in a font that is both simultaneously hard to read and obscuring the actual video. Often, a small segment of dialogue is muted just to get a character to say somebody's name, creating a really jarring effect.
• This is often used to have characters say lines offical characters used, and then have the character that originally said that line respond with "I agree" or some other inanity.
• On that subject, the writing is usually poor as fuck.
• The "film" itself is loosely based on the original film/show being adapted, but every scene is padded out to include the other characters as well. Usually every character, because we have to know just how Snagglepuss and Scamp are reacting, don't we?
• There's almost always a gathering of heroes and a gathering of villains. Often, the villains will be beaten in the same way they were in the films, just with other characters doing it.
• In the very, very worst cases, crossover ships will happen. Dear sweet Poseidon, do they happen.

Or, you know, just look at the video title. Then you should probably run screaming. Hit the jump if you want to know more.

Fighting Game Characters Suck #1 - Ryu

So since I got out of uni for the holidays, I managed to find a good balance between work and free time. Enough to allow me to cogitate on some issues that I want to talk about - namely, fighting game characters.

Now, this is not going to be me talking about shitty character design, because there's probably already shitloads of threads and blogs dedicated to that. Nor is expecting any amount of depth from most fighting game characters a fair thing, especially when most are raging stereotypes to begin with. This is me talking about how some fighting lads and lasses are massive idiots who need a slap in the face and maybe some therapy. Because seriously, they do.

And who better to open up this festival of idiocy than the poster boy of fighting games, Ryu from Street Fighter?

Ah, Ryu. Your tales of martial arts mastery inspire us. Your simple design and iconic fighting style have been copied by imitators and competitors the world over. And your gripping, emotional and spiritual quest to master your teachings and become the strongest warrior is what keeps people coming back to your side of the story, again and again. Truly, you are a noble and endearing character.

Except when you think about it, that's all a steaming crock of cow shit. If you want to know why, hit the jump.