Arcade Classics: Caged Bird

Thu, 01/08/2009 — Brooke

Caged Bird is an anomaly in Sega's library, but not as much of one as some might think. The early nineties were the heyday of the big literacy push in American schools. After the ridiculous success of Nintendo's Wally Bear and the NO! Gang, it was hoped that a similar approach might work in encouraging children to read, and a series of 'Arcade Classics' were planned. The first, 1992's Gr8 X-pectations, became a critical and commercial success in Japan, paving the way for future titles.

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Lament of the Unknown Sports Fan

Tue, 08/02/2005 — Fasteriskhead

Oh for - oh, what the fuck is this.

Are you kidding me? This is like the second time all season we've been up in the first quarter, and now alien monsters from outer space want to attack? Jesus, is someone in charge trying to ruin my year? And what the hell is that fucking giant robot monkey doing?

What? "Taking control?" Christ, I guess anything would be better than this year's running game, up to and including total capitulation of the human race to a giant brain with an eye; maybe under ALIEN MIND CONTROL we could gain more than like two yards a carry. Man, the city should have known it was probably a bad idea to build the capital right across the street from the stadium in the first place; do they have any idea how bad the traffic is during peak hours? This is ridiculous even aside from our new overlords showing up during the first halfway decent show in weeks and announcing the new state of affairs to all us DENIZENS OF THE PLANET EARTH.

God, maybe I should just move to Massachusetts already and become a Patriots fan. They don't have to put up with this shit.

STRATA TEACHES ARTISTIC APPRECIATION

Wed, 09/29/2004 — Fasteriskhead

The first question I ask myself when something doesn't seem to be beautiful is why do I think it's not beautiful. And very shortly you discover that there is no reason.

-John Cage

Wendy & the Peace Keepers

Tue, 09/21/2004 — Sak

Yeah, we're kind of like a proto-punk-cum-new-wave ensemble. Yeah, I mean, we've kind of got a Theoretical Girls meets Sonic Youth kind of sound, but with some poppier stuff kind of mixed in. We cover the Talking Heads' "New Feeling". What the fuck do you mean that you've got too many proto-punk-cum-new-wave bands on the bill? There's like four of us in -- what was that? Four billion? Oh, that's hilarious, pal. Why don't you come say that to my face, dickshitter? Oh, you thought us music-types are supposed to be sensitive?

Dude, I was in the Peace Keepers. What? No, not the Peace Corps! Fucking. God, do you even play videogames? Oh, ha ha. You're not eight years old, how long did you stay up last night thinking of that one? C-contingent upon the situation? Fuck you, man! We didn't need this gig, anyway!

Excerpts from Andy Bogard's Dream Diary

Thu, 08/12/2004 — Fasteriskhead

"Jul. 29: Me and Terry and Joe were on vacation and heading along a highway somewhere (in Terry's '97 4Runner). Joe had been driving for awhile but then I realized that I didn't know what town we were in, but I didn't want to ask them where we were so I just played it cool and asked Joe to pull over at the next exit to get some Wendy's. My speech was all slurred (had I been drinking?) but still everyone was pretty cool with this and Joe pulled onto the next on-ramp. The town we got into was pretty normal-looking, lots of friendly people on the sidewalks waved at us, they looked pretty surprised that we had an SUV. For some reason we completely forget about the food (I didn't find out where we were either) and we just kind of hung out in the town for awhile. We found a theater and watched Spiderman 2 again and afterwards Terry complained that the scene where Spidey gets all passed along on top of a crowd looked way cheesy, and Joe was really pissed when he said this (so I think he must have liked the movie a lot). Then we realized it was really late, so we went looking for a hotel and picked the first one we found. Mai was working part-time there, only she looked younger than normal and was being a total bitch and I kind of cussed her out after we got a room.

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The Interrogative

Sat, 07/17/2004 — Rev. Ragu

HEY PUNK! ARE YOU TUFF E NUFF?

Other fighting games attempt to lure you in with vivid scenes of violent fighting, promising that Many More Battle Scenes Will Soon Be Available. But Tuff E Nuff? No, it goes for the hard sell, directly attacking your manhood. It's almost as if the box art realizes that just five seconds ago at the game store you were staring longingly at Kirby Super Star, a damned fine yet absolutely adorable game, and Tuff E Nuff just stares right back saying "What are you, some kind of pussy? Have your balls been sucked inward by the sheer vaccuum of your major league pussitude and found their rightful place as ovaries or are you MAN E NUFF to take me on?"

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A Cautionary Tale

Thu, 07/15/2004 — Fasteriskhead

My arms and legs were like mud, only making lazy, halfhearted efforts to obey any commands I sent them. It had seemingly always been this way, but somewhere in the back of my mind something whispered, with increasing assurance, that once I'd been a man, that once I'd had a life... but that was all over now and it had all long since left my memory, blown away by the harsh mountain winds the same as the dust. My opponent, the one in the red, held an expression as grim and hopeless as my own; if he had ever told me his name, then I had forgotten it eons ago. It didn't matter anyways, as all we were ever made to do was fight. We did battle like blinded retards flailing at wasps, like action figures being slammed into each other with our plastic limbs wildly rotating around a single axis. As the guy in blue with the grimace yelled "BEGIN!" and we stumbled forward ready to completely embarrass ourselves once more for the trillionth time, like a shot from the dark realization slammed into my head: that dude up there is the devil, and I am in hell.

~do you remember love?~

Mon, 07/12/2004 — Rev. Ragu

Hi there! My name is Brandon, I'm twenty-one years old, my astrological sign is scorpio, and my measurements are a SE-CR-ET. Basically, due to my lack of education and severe brain-damage stemming from my participation in an underground brawling circuit to bring honor to my motherland (The Democratic Socialist States of Canada), avenge my best friend who was murdered by the evil overlord DALK KRAIZER (One-time VBF champion and former Prime Minister Bear Hugger, we hardly knew ye), determine the fate of the world, and just plain do it for THE LOVE OF THE FIGHT, I was brought into this project to both fill their affirmative action handicap quotas and to bring an extra spicy taste of exotic Canuckian sex appeal to the table. Certainly, I may be mentally deficient, but much like a poor, hairy, broad-chested, budget-Labatts-and-Back-Bacon stinking Paris Hilton, you can see past that pesky lack of inner beauty to my GLISTENING MASCULINE PECTORALS. That and there's some poorly-shot videotape of me circulating around, and let me just say that I was young and stupid and that Bloiffy is a rotten son-of-a-bitch.

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