Episode 11: No-Luck Nora Nails It Again

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-v4q94-19ac31c

An upstart host makes a screwball radio show break out before our ears. Can the unlucky Nora win a talent show without really trying?

Episode 10: The Last Loss of Jeannie Svenson

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-kw96h-197a503

A woman in a futuristic world must decide what her future holds — in education, career, and family. A prequel to Pierre and Manuel Save the Solar System.

The Broken Tulip

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-u9d27-192e22d

An everyman finds himself living a new life. At first, he thinks it’s a dream come true, but he soon finds multiple dark realities, both in the people around him, and in himself.

Episode 8: The Applicant

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-teggh-18a22a1

A monster of a man meets his match when he applies for work among the demons of Hell.

Fried Rice Episode 7: Pierre and Manuel Save the Solar System Act V

https://www.podbean.com/media/share/pb-e43ay-183109f

Factions clash in a duel between the many and the few.

When the World Makes Sense

Don’t go in the water.

Don’t go in the water.

DON’T go in the water.

…Okay. You went in the water.

You probably know the OceanGate story — and the idiocy surrounding it — in intimate detail, so I’ll try to keep it short. Five mega-rich light-bending guys thought it’d be pretty darn cool to look at the sunken Titanic in a rinky-dink, commercial submersible. The vehicle was built from fragile carbon fiber, piloted with a Logitech gamepad, and bolted shut from the outside so the occupants couldn’t escape if they wanted to. When the gamepad stopped working properly, our intrepid adventurers became stuck in a tube with no way to move. In time, the pressure of the ocean became too great, and the hull ruptured. The little sub crumpled like a Pepsi can, and gooified everyone inside.

Now here’s the funny part: the news really wanted us to feel bad about all this, to sell it as some heartbreaking tragedy…but it doesn’t look like it worked.

Too soon? Possibly. In bad taste? Maybe, but don’t worry; we have some very good people on patrol, ordering us not to joke about it.

Well, all I can say to these people is, “Welcome to the Internet. First time?”

All right, that’s a cop-out, I know. Let’s put aside the cardinal rule that says the Internet turns people into assholes. There are a couple of other issues at play here.

First, there’s the crab mentality that leads to a general distrust and hatred of the super-rich. For generations, Americans have toiled under the doublethink of capitalism. Chasing the promise that hard work leads to riches, while internalizing the fact that only a lucky few ever actually get rich, can drive a person mad. Add to this the excess and debauchery that the rich regularly get up to, and bitterness shall well.

So five of these fucks blow a million dollars in total so they can brag to their rich-fuck friends about their “amazing adventures?” Oh, and to make TikTok videos about solving a Rubik’s Cube at crush depth? Fuck ’em. Fuck ’em in the ear. Does that make me a crab? Well, I’m the crab who didn’t get squished in a carbon fiber can. Stay in the bucket, boyo, and that won’t happen to you.

Which brings me to the second impetus for these jokes: a dire need to see natural selection at work. Everyday, it seems like the value of wisdom drops another dollar, as idiots and morons are either excused for their behavior…

…or are rewarded for it.

And everyday, we’re told to pity these people.

Do you?

Compassion is important and all, but so is personal responsibility. Suppose some guy is out for a walk, and a random alligator that escaped from a zoo jumps out and kills him. I’d feel bad for the guy. He didn’t know that was coming. Now, suppose some other guy gets killed by the gator because he tried to snuggle up and take a selfie with it. Well, I’m not going to feel so bad about that. In fact, I’d probably feel pretty happy about it.

Bloodthirsty poacher gets slaughtered by locals? I’m going to laugh at it.

Idiot government agent shoots himself during a gun safety lecture? I’m going to laugh at it.

Aggressive nature show host gets stung in the heart by a stingray? Well, okay, I didn’t laugh at that, but I certainly shook my head in non-surprise.

Why should anyone feel ashamed to laugh at this? The shame doesn’t lie on the witness to the folly. It lies on the fool, where it belongs. I have no sympathy for these people. Zero. The tale of OceanGate is rare and precious evidence that the universe is cognizant of hubris and stupidity. It’s the way things are supposed to happen, and it gives me hope.

The ones who take my hope are the ones who pretend to feel bad for them, the ones who refuse to learn a lesson, the ones who find consequences inconvenient. They stand up, stiff and sanctimonious, and tell me what I should think and feel about the situation. These are the sycophants, these are the enablers, these are the people who allow humanity to slide into ruin, because aww shucks guys, it’s not their fault!

Not everything is in our control, but we certainly have the power to not go where God doesn’t want us without proper preparation. You want to go on a daring adventure? Fine, but think ahead. Plan properly. Consult with experts who’ve done it before. Most importantly, consider your motivations. If you’re only climbing Mt. Everest for the likes and the follows, maybe you should just fake a photo and have ChatGPT write the anecdote. It’d be just as impressive to me.

The Real Fear

Like most of the Switch-owning public, I downloaded a copy of Metroid Dread when it was released earlier this month. I have to say, it’s a slick piece of work. It’s got classic Metroid design and classic Metroid gameplay. The artwork is pretty, and the animation is gorgeous.

And, well, I’m kinda disappointed with it.

Rating: 2 out of 5.

Heh, I should probably be up front here. This post isn’t meant to be a review of the game, though I guess I can talk about it a bit.

I guess my problem with Dread is that I don’t feel it takes any chances. It’s certainly not the revelation that Metroid Prime was, that’s for sure. Maybe that’s not fair to complain about; Dread was never advertised as some revolutionary take on the series. Even so, I had this quiet hope that Dread would be a new Breath of the Wild: a game that would stand before the Hollow Knights, Axiom Verges, Shadow Complexes, Guacamelees, and all the other indie wannabes that have sprung up over the years, and say, “Listen up, fools, here’s how it’s done.”

Instead, it’s just another Metroid. That’s cool, I guess.

The world is lovingly crafted, but it doesn’t stand out from the other rocky/volcanic/watery/technological planets Samus has visited. Honestly, I preferred the BSL from Metroid Fusion. At least it wasn’t just another planet. The boss fights are cool, but something about them just feels rote. Super Metroid may be old enough to drink, but it set the bar pretty high. How many times are they going to trot out Kraid and his belly? I felt more impressed by the bosses in Cuphead. The ballyhooed E.M.M.I. robots that stalk Samus through certain passages are too numerous, and encountered too frequently, to be truly scary. I suppose that, if you’re sensitive enough to be shaken by games like Slender, the E.M.M.I.s might give you a chill, but I found them more annoying than anything else. The SA-X from Fusion was far more frightening, and far more rewarding to finally stand up to because it appeared rarely. The methods for laying out an E.M.M.I. are also unusually complicated. Hold L, hold R, hold Y — jeez, is this really a Nintendo game? What happened to intuitive simplicity?

Now, here’s the thing: I can already hear the voices of Nintendo fans leaping to this game’s defense. I also know exactly how they would respond to my complaints.

“Um, this is the Metroid formula, duh.”

“Um, Kraid is a perennial villain and an important part of Metroid canon.”

“Um, you complain about the game being too much like other Metroid games, but then you complain when they add new things like the E.M.M.I. What do you want?”

“Just another casual who can’t handle complex controls.”

These voices descended on a poor reviewer at the Guardian, who dared to post her shrugging review of the game. I found it when I went in search of opinions that might match my own, wondering if I was really alone in my assessment. I’m glad I wasn’t, but I can also see why people who dislike popular games don’t speak up. The worst response to the review was probably this one:

The language here concerns me. “Safe to ignore this review?” What does that mean? That the review isn’t a threat of some kind? If so, a threat to what, the foot-thick consensus of “indomitable triumph?” Also, because the reviewer has a particular notion of what a short game is, all of her points can be dismissed completely? What fragility this reveals!

I know how you guys feel; you love Nintendo, you love Metroid, and you want to feel secure that your love is worthwhile. You don’t want to hear any criticism when you’ve already made up your mind. To instantly cast aside differing opinions, however, and finding weak, tenuous reasons to do so, is dangerous. I know we’re just talking about a silly video game, but I actually think this attitude is one of the reasons why our political situation is where it is. We can’t afford to be this sensitive. It’s just a game, guys. I guess the same can be said about everything.

Way to Be, Big BC

My latest annual bout with sinusitis left me flailing for a distraction from the fire in my face. I checked the books in my backlog, but none of them looked terribly interesting. Then I opened my Apple Books app, and found an intriguing recommendation — The Cool Side of My Pillow: A Book of Essays, by none other than Bruce Campbell. This baby got me through the pain.

Rating: 4 out of 5.

Yep, Ash himself sneaked out another book last year, and I didn’t even know it. I’d read his two Chins books — If Chins Could Kill, and Hail to the Chin — and I’d been entertained and surprised at Campbell’s grateful, down-to-earth personality. The man has lived a miraculous life, but he has no trouble laughing at the mistakes he’s made, and he never hogs credit for his turns of good fortune. I don’t think this is a forced persona, either, if his jovial DVD commentaries are anything to go by.

Here, Campbell discusses a number of odd topics, from the COVID pandemic to the importance of quiet, to a mysterious log he found on his property, and it’s all very sensible, pleasant stuff from a guy who doesn’t take himself too seriously. My favorite moments are his near-death experience while bike riding in Utah, which was really very harrowing, and his vision of a TV program about nutrition. His idea was to show icons of the foods and drinks people had consumed floating over their heads throughout the day. Perhaps, he posits, we might understand each other better than we do, if we just knew what was coursing through our blood vessels at any given time.

You can expect to learn plenty of interesting tidbits about travel, about marriage, and about life in rural Oregon. You might even learn his attitudes on politics, in a roundabout way. Whether you agree with him or not, though, you won’t be able to deny that Campbell is an easygoing person with an even hand and an open mind. He also has quite a bit of wisdom to share. I highly recommend it if you’re fan, or just want to read something on your device that isn’t by some extremist lunatic.

51 HD

Well, I shouldn’t be all that surprised, really. After an irreverent video game series sends you blasting through gangsters, corporate goons, and all manner of psycho assassins, there’s really only one way to go.

Aliens.

Rating: 4 out of 5.

Saints Row 4 might have done it first, but I think No More Heroes III wears it better. This is an absolute nut-job of a game, and that’s saying something, considering that its developer made Killer7. Reviewers have complained that it looks ugly, its edge has dulled, and that it leans too heavily on style, but I can’t help but love it. Here’s a game that just wants to be your buddy. “Hey, man,” it says, “come party with us.”

And party I did, three times over. I can’t get enough of it.

Like its numbered predecessors, NMH3 is an over-the-top slash-em-up set in the California town of Santa Destroy. You play as the dorky-but-lovable Travis Touchdown, professional assassin and proud japanophile. He may be pushing forty, and married with children, but nothing will stop him from rocking leather jackets, collecting gashapon, and gushing with his buddies on the Miike oeuvre. Shacked up with his former rivals, Shinobu Jacobs and Charlotte “Bad Girl” Birkin, as well as his aged kitty Jeane, Travis is living the dream.

That is, until FU shows up.

Twenty years ago, a larval alien named Jess-Baptiste VI crash-landed on Earth, and was saved by a young Damon Ricotello. In gratitude for this kindness, Baptiste gifted Damon with great alien knowledge, which he used to help the alien return home. Before departing, Baptiste promised that he’d visit Earth again to see his good friend.

Now, Baptiste, a.k.a. Lord FU, has made good on his vow. Grown to his full measure, FU is strong, intelligent, and a total psychopath. He’s a conqueror of worlds with a court full of criminals, and now he wants Earth for his own. He drags a reluctant Damon into his plans, and wields Damon’s burgeoning media corporation to spread his influence.

FU decides to make the conflict sporting, so he commissions the United Assassins Association to set up a ranking system for Earthlings to challenge him. As we would expect, along comes Travis to climb the ladder, and take the aliens down one by one.

Now, I have to say that for all their wackiness, the villains in past No More Heroes games have never really made a lasting impact. They mostly came in strutting and went out bleeding, like the opponents in a Punch-Out!! game. FU, on the other hand, is something else. He’s a constant presence in this game, lording over the proceedings with an unpredictable menace. I love this guy. It’s hard to believe he’s voiced by Charles Smith from Red Dead Redemption II.

Before you can cross blades with the guy, you’ll need to rise in the rankings. You do this by exploring the various regions surrounding Santa Destroy, fighting rank-and-file members of the alien army, and making money off odd jobs. Once you have the cash and have won a few qualifying matches, it’s off to the boss fights for another spectacular battle.

These battles rarely play out as advertised, though the twists aren’t always surprising if you’ve played previous games in the series. There’s plenty of kill-stealing, returning champions, and other odd callbacks. It can be frustrating if you’re hoping for real dramatic weight, but I think Grasshopper wanted to keep things unpredictable, and just threw all its ideas together into one community soup.

In fact, the whole game has that community-soup quality. Polygon’s review called it a “multimedia art project,” and I think that’s the best way to describe it. The game is framed as a streaming anime series, with a repeating intro and outro, varying art styles, and classic TV editing. You even get a Netflix-like next-episode timer. The characters are all aware of their existence in a video game, and Travis addresses the player like an old friend.

Some folks might roll their eyes at at all this, but I dig it. It never comes off as hostile or resigned, but joyous in its revelry. During the game’s first action sequence, the character Sylvia advises the player to surrender to the gaming addiction, play for ten hours at a time, and “drink a shitload of soda.” And you know what? Part of me said, “why the hell not?”

The combat is what feeds that gaming fix, as it’s nice and tight. In fact, it’s far more technical than it was in its predecessors. Mashing buttons won’t get you far; you’ll have to time your strikes and limit your combos to survive. You’ll also need to make wise use of your Death Glove, which shoves and slows enemies, and causes damage over time. Dodging the aliens’ attacks and slashing their health away makes the game feel like a mixture of Diablo III and Breath of the Wild. The controls are different from previous games, but some mainstays remain, like the directional finishing moves, Dark Side death reels, and recharging your sword battery by treating your Joy-Con like a shake weight.

Yes, the game still has motion controls in it, but they’re very limited, and you don’t need to use them if you don’t want to. I like using them, though, as it’s quite satisfying to swing my arm and decapitate an irritating baddie.

I’m willing to admit that the fighting wouldn’t make this game on its own. The series has proven that too much of it can get tiresome. The rewards of a Grasshopper game are the things that happen outside of battle. Santa Destroy and its environs are full of humor, intentional or not. You have odd jobs that are easy and silly-looking, collectible scorpions and kittens, and visual novel sequences designed to look and sound like Apple II programs (did people really play games like these?).

Aside from the fourth-wall breaking I mentioned earlier, there are also references to pro wrestling, Zelda, Mario, Smash Bros., and the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The atmosphere is ridiculous, but it’s also earnest, passionate, and true to its creator, Goichi Suda. Critics have said that Suda’s voice is no longer unique–that it’s been lost in the storm of nerd culture that now pervades the mainstream. Maybe we do see a lot more dragons and superheroes on our TVs than we once did, and maybe we do have a lot of geeky podcasts jabbering about them, but I don’t think that makes Suda any less relevant than before. Seeing his own personal goofs on games and movies is still enjoyable to me, especially because of his not-quite-in-the-club viewpoint.

Aside from complaints about over reliance on style, most folks have been bitching about NMH3‘s graphics. It’s true: the frame rate chugs badly when driving around the open world. Pop-in is rampant, and there’s something odd about the lighting too. This never really bothered me, though; this is a Grasshopper Manufacture game, after all. Suda and his crew don’t have the genius of Nintendo, or the resources of Rockstar on their side. They’ve always played rough and dirty, and I think that’s part of their appeal. I daresay that their failure to meet today’s AAA standards was intentional, to remain in keeping with their punk-band attitude.

Of course, this raises the question of whether Suda’s games are really “punk” or not, and even whether video games can be “punk” at all. I suppose that if one considers the money required to make NMH3, along with the heavy marketing Nintendo put behind it, one could call Suda a sell-out. If we’re honoring the original spirit of “punk,” I’d have to say that the real “video game bands” are the indie developers pounding out code in their garages. I don’t know. That’s a discussion for obsessive literary types who are far smarter than I am.

My primary complaint about this game is that it simply isn’t big enough. I really enjoyed just being in Travis’s world, and I wanted to see more of it. I was disappointed to see just how much of the map is sealed off as “forbidden zones.” I also would have liked to have some actual “levels” in the game to fight through, as opposed to simple arenas. I think the alien monsters are varied and unique enough that they could allow for some interesting level design.

Just keep the levels at a reasonable length, Mr. Suda. We can’t take too much of it at once.

Look at all that red 😦

What I’d really like to see is a No More Heroes game with an open structure, something like Super Mario Odyssey. It should ditch the Assassin rankings, and allow Travis to drive between mini-cities at will. He could run and climb and explore. He could go shopping, fight aliens, and complete challenges scattered across the map. The story could develop as each new region is unlocked, as opposed to the attainment of new ranks. Of course, there could be lots of separate arena challenges accessed via special locations. I think it could work!

I’m sure it’d end up on a smaller scale than Odyssey, and it would look a little scruffy here and there. I’d still be happy with it, though. No matter how much pop-up it has, I can’t help but adore this scrappy little underdog that keeps on partying, all the way to the end of the world.

Because the Light Went Out

About two months ago, for no real reason that I can think of, I went on a Norm MacDonald binge. From out of the stars, Norm’s “cliff-diving” joke shot into my head, and I wanted to see it again. So, I looked up his One Night Stand special on YouTube, and wound up sliding down a rabbit hole.

I actually saw that One Night Stand special back when it was new, and I never forgot it. Aside from cliff-diving, I never forgot Norm’s jokes about lottery tickets and the guy who killed his family because the devil told him to to do it. Norm’s style and attitude made him stand out to me — even in the time of Emo Phillips, Dennis Wolfberg, and The Amazing Jonathan, I knew this slightly befuddled dude with the nasally voice was something special.

Although I’d seen Norm doing Weekend Update on Saturday Night Live, and caught a few of his cameos in movies by his SNL buddies, I never really followed his career. Until this recent binge, I had no idea he’d written a book, and hosted multiple shows. As my YouTube adventures led me to tantalizing snippets of these shows, I decided to jump on Netflix and watch them in their totality.

That was when I realized that Norm wasn’t playing a character when he did his comedy sets, he was just being himself.

Many of the clips I saw of Norm were of jokes and shaggy-dog stories told on late-night talk shows. Few of these jokes were his own (even the beloved “moth” joke is just an old standard), but when hearing them in Norm’s voice, you’d never know it.

So I took in all this Norm stuff, had a great time, and felt glad that Norm was having a great time too. I looked forward to seeing what kind of trouble he’d get into next.

And then the dude died.

Like Richard Farnsworth, the sheriff from Misery who refused to inform people of his cancer, and then blew his own brains out, Norm kept his suffering to himself and went out on his own terms.

Every comedian he touched was shocked and horrified at the news, and an outpouring of love and memories came from the likes of Bob Saget, Conan O’Brien, and David Spade. The tales they told described a mischievous, idiosyncratic introvert who refused to drive, and who took days to respond to a text. They showed admiration for his bloodyminded adherence to OJ slander on Weekend Update, his “shocking” behavior on The View, and his time-gobbling jokes on The Tonight Show.

Some folks called him a genius. I don’t know if I’d go that far, but I can’t deny that Norm was an individual, steadfast and uncompromising. He was never offended, and he loved toying with those who were. People like that are hard to come by anymore, especially in show business. He broke rules and won laughs anyway. That takes courage. Now, whether Norm was truly being courageous or just crazy is up for debate. Still, he did things his own way, for better or worse, and I think that’s why people respect him.

I’d like to write more, but I really have to read that book now. I’m told that Norm gets his job at SNL by selling Lorne Michaels morphine in it.

Design a site like this with WordPress.com
Get started