Welcome to the Playpen, our space for ferrety banter and whimsical snippets of things that aren't quite long enough for articles (although they might be) but that caught your eye anyway.
They're not good games. But they're the kind of stupid I like. The first game follows the adventures of homicidal supercop Jack Slate and his equally homicidal Siberian husky companion Shadow as they fight crime in Grant City, and by "fight crime" I mean "murder everyone." If you can imagine what Max Payne would have been like if the developers had spent their time huffing paint, then you can imagine Dead to Rights. The sequel manages to be even more gloriously stupid, which sees Jack reacting to the murder of his father (Col. Campbell from Metal Gear Solid et al.) by waging a one-man war against the Combine AND the Geth, and culminates with a knife fight against Squidward (well, his VO). Oh, and Shadow is upgraded from "husky" to "wolf-bear-demon thing."
There's an entire "best of" compilation of their run here.
And just to whet your appetite, here's an excerpt from their commentary of the first game. I promise that it is the best thing you will see all day.
Ash: How did NaNo go for you, Ferretbrain?
For me it went about the same as last time I participated. Which is to say that I won, and I finished the story I was working on, but only within the last two hours of the month.
I guess I'm getting better in some areas, though. Last time (2009) I was essentially throwing random crap (and a whole lot of shout-outs and in-jokes) at OpenOffice Writer for thirty days. This year I had an actual plot worked out, and an interesting theme to tackle. The end result was still rubbish, as before, but I think this time there's a salvageable story buried in there, should I ever feel energized to revisit it.
How did NaNo go for you, Ferretbrain?
(thank fuck for Xmas and hello again Fb - work has been slaying meeee!)
I am so excited. And terrified. But also excited.
I am bamboozled.
Inappropriate analogy? Check. A sneer at paranormal romance for no real reason? Check. (In this case, a really stupid reason: "Men have been writing this kind of crap for years but when the genders are flipped around IT'S REPREHENSIBLE!") Defending the rape-to-redemption plot (Because the story of the rapist's guilt is always a more important story to tell than that of the victim)? Check. Sneaking in a way to insult Muslims? Check. Professorial tone in which the man, in all his wisdom, tells the silly woman what to do? CHECK.
You can listen to the segment here. Far as I can tell, the argument goes "if we stop buying oil from the Middle East, they'll stop oppressing the women there, so buy oil from Canada."
Truth be told I don't really like this oil shale business, mostly because I remember looking at some photographs of the Alberta oil fields Edward Burtynsky took a few years back and thinking to myself "Oh, we are so going to pay for this for the next century." I'm fully expecting a flood of stories to come out of Alberta in the 2040s all asking why the provincial cancer rate has increased 8000% over the past two decades.
On the other hand, I support nuclear power, so what do I know?
1) I have no idea what the hell just happened.
2) I can't listen to that Marilyn Manson cover of "I Put A Spell On You" without imagining a platinum-blonde Patricia Arquette doing an affectless striptease for Robert Loggia. Thank you, David Lynch.
3) Slenderman's gonna be awfully pissed when he finds out Masky stole his best suit for that cameo.
Is the Nice Guy Rules tumblr meant to be a spoof or not?
I'm inclined to think it is sincere, but if it isn't my guess would be it's not a spoof so much as a cunning trap, getting all the tumblr Nice Guys to out themselves by gushing about how wonderful it is. Balance of probabilities seems against that though.
Since when has "consistency" ever been paired with "amazing"? And isn't this just encouragement to never change, never re-evaluate, never do any self-analysis? An invitation to never grow as a person, for in sameness lies your greatest quality?
Well, at least an invitation to be a predictable bore, at any rate.