My friend Buddy and I have been friends for ten years, and the two of us are legitimate Final Fantasy fanboys. In fact, we met on a Final Fantasy message board. We’ve been texting back and forth as we play, and this a good indication of some of my initial feelings. I’m in green, Buddy is in gray. I also spell fal’Cie wrong, because it isn’t a word constructed by humans, but rather by grammatical devils.
I picked up Final Fantasy XIII last night at midnight, and I figure I’d fire off my initial impressions. There’s a lot to get into, but the most resounding thing so far is that the story is retarded. Now, I’m only in the first chapter, and I’d like to emphasize it could and probably will get better.
But so far, I don’t think I’ve ever been this apathetic towards the characters in the beginning of a Final Fantasy before.
Everything is overwrought and ridiculous. Everyone is crying and making epic proclamations and acting like emo kids. The problem is that I’m not invested in these characters yet, and so when they cry and the dramatic music swells, I just roll my eyes. I’m all for in medias res, but so far the narrative is fractured between three different strands, and all of them are vague and insubstantial. Terms are getting thrown around, everyone is chasing down a loved one, and I’m standing in the middle of the room yelling WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON.
I expect the storyline to get better, but I think I would be caring more if they didn’t throw me into some overblown confrontation while never bothering to get me invested in the characters, or the complicated mechanics of the game’s world. If I don’t know the characters, and I have to dive into a glossary every four seconds just to decipher the ridiculous names for everything, I’m going to be more confused than empathetic.
Came across more Fallout: New Vegas pictures courtesy of All Games Beta via PC Gamer scans. In a post Final Fantasy XIII / Mass Effect 2 world, there’s nothing I’m more excited for. I recently cracked open Fallout 3, of which I still haven’t done a shitload, and I remembered why I loved it so much. There’s something so hauntingly enjoyable about wandering a decimated, desolate land.
I’m ready to rock. At first I was hesitant, since it isn’t being developed by Bethesda, but rather by Obsidian. And if I hold Obsidian accountable for anything, it’s churning out the shitty sequel to Knights of the Old Republic, and ruining my Star Wars dreams. However, I didn’t realize that the motherfuckers at Obsidian include the founder of the team who made the original Fallout.
Well then! Alright, let’s rock. Head over to All Games Beta for all the scans.
The reckoning is upon me! The day I have been waiting for! As prophesied by uh, release dates and press releases. Final Fantasy XIII. Shit be droppin’ off at midnight, and I’ll be standing there in line with sweaty nerd palms.
There’s nothing more I can say about this game until I’ve actually played it, other than I’m stoked and my genitals swell at the thought of playing it. If you find me passed out in a pile of Diet Mountain Dew cans and covered in Chez-It crumbs, just leave me be. Spring Break kicks off for me tomorrow, and I have a date with a Playstation 3 and Bahamut.
I can’t even begin to wrap my dome around the idea that Final Fantasy XIII is coming out here on the mainland of the Empire on Tuesday. Tuesday. It’s really fucking real! No tricksies! I imagine if not already, sometime soon, copies of this son of a bitch will begin arriving in Gamestops and other retailers. Sitting there in the backroom, wait to be unwrapped and inserted by sweaty fanboys like myself.
Sometimes you wait for something for so long; like me sweating to lose my virginity, and when it finally happens, you’re like, no, seriously? It almost seems surreal. I don’t think I’m going to register that I’m actually playing Final Fantasy XIII until I emerge from my basement dungeon on Tuesday, ten hours into my first playthrough.
I told myself I was only sort-of excited about the game after all the reports of Tunnel Horror began to come out, but I can’t help it. I’m fucking stoked. Really stoked. My cardboard cut-out of Lightning has been sitting in the corner of my room, and I can’t help but glance at her and crack a smile. Even if she’s been bad.
I haven’t kissed her in a while because she told me that Rinoa was hotter than Yuna, and that really pissed me off. But maybe if she behaves herself, I’ll go give her a little smooch. Until then, I have begun smashing furiously (get your mind out of the gutter) on my keyboard, conjuring up my initial fanfiction where Lightning and Wakka team up to fight Sephiroth, of course! You’re only cool if you fight Sephiroth.
Tuesday!
Conveniently, my Spring Break begins on Tuesday. I have class Tuesday night, and I know I’m just going to be doodling totally awesome and realistic versions of Snow being all naked-chested and fighting dragons and stuff and little word balloons that say stuff like, this is pretty fucking easy, but it would be even easier if Ian was oiling my chest! And then I’ll be in the picture just like, nodding my head and winking. Meanwhile, my Women’s Voices teacher will be all like, Oh Women Were So Crafty Because They Wrote Plays and it will just drone on and on and on, and I’ll be counting the time until I can sit next to Cardboard Lightning on my futon and start playing again.
Tuesday!
Came across these today. Super fucking gorgeous. Makes me wish I didn’t have bigfoot feet. Seriously, you know what you can buy for size 15 feet? Fucking nothing. Maybe some decent skateboarding sneakers, but nothing along the lines of hawt Star Wars or Bioshock sneakers. Someone buy these and wear them for me. I’ll stand in the corner while you do sick freestyle walking air kicks and shit and touch myself.
One of the things I dug the fuck out of in Knights of the Old Republic was the fact that the more of a motherfucker you were, the more it showed on your physical appearance. It made sense, since back then it was thought that the Dark Side rotted you the fuck out and made you look like a god damn leper. Mind you, this was before George Lucas was all like:
Oh hey guise, guess wut! You know how you thought that the Dark Side was responsible for Palpatine’s look? Psych! It’s actually lame ass lightning reflection caused by Jules from Pulp Fiction! I fucking shit on your established canon! Muwahahaha, and also, guess what! Boba Fett is an annoying little shit, and also a clone. I’m high on meth! I’m a mole-looking douchebag!
Anyways.
So, I was pretty stoked that Bioware brought back the whole “the more of a douchebag you are, the worse you look” thing for Mass Effect 2. The rationale is all, well, you see, Shepard was dead, and they didn’t have time to finish resurrecting her. (Or him.) So uh, the worse you are, the more your fissures crack and your bionics show.
Huh?
Wut?
It doesn’t matter.
On my second playthrough, I pledged to be the biggest piece of shit bad ass the galaxy had ever seen. No man, I ain’t healing you with my medigel! That shit is precious! Yes, assassin I caught in a warehouse, I am stomach-punching you out a fucking window! I’m Shepard! I seen some shit!
And it’s pretty cool. I mean, look at me. I’m a fucking demon. No wonder that’s why no one will sleep with me. Even though I’m like, hey, I saved the galaxy, I saved your ass, now let me tap it. Who doesn’t like seeing physical representations of their behavior? It’s neat, and been echoed in a ton of games like Fable and the such.
So I’m glad that they brought it back, so I can look like the possessed demon rapist that I am in this playthrough. Beware the red eyes of Shepard, if she’s looking at your butt, gender or species be damned, she’s snagging it!
Found this over at Kotaku thanks to a friend. This was a a status that was legitimately considered for Fallout 2. Amazing.
Via Kotaku
Yeah … we can see why that was cut from the game and replaced instead with the “Hated” reputation icon. Just in case it’s not clear to you that Vault Boy’s kicking mom in the womb, that gown helpfully indicates baby’s on board. I don’t think you’ll go to hell for laughing at this – but you will if you imagine it accompanied by a Looney Tunes kettle drum sound, like I did.
“Childkiller” was not a frivolous or even a desirable thing in Fallout 2. You got the status if you killed a kid, even accidentally, and for some characters it wasn’t obvious the game considered them children. Even without offensive art this capability was too controversial for consoles, so in Fallout 3 you couldn’t even attack a child character.
Sometimes even I am amazed by something’s offensive qualities. Well done.
There’s a shit load of scans of Fallout: New Vegas over at All Games Beta. The only thing is that it’s from a German magazine. I don’t speak German, but it looks as ugly in print as it sounds ugly while spoken.
I’m not really sold on Germany. All I know it for is really insane watersports and crazy bukkake. But they’ve provided me with these Fallout: New Vegas pictures. So bravo, guys! Now if you could just work on a language that doesn’t sound like Satan barfing up a porcupine. Word.
Head over to All Games Beta for all the pictures.
Here’s the truth, one of my favorite activities in Mass Effect 2 is trying to get into the pants of Yeoman Chambers. She’s the adorable little brunette deckhand who is always telling me when I have messages at my terminal. As well, she always seems to find a reason to be slightly bent over her own computer, inviting the inevitable stare at her bum.
It’s nice.
Nice.
Through one and a half playthroughs of the game, I ain’t had sex with no one. Eerily, this game echoes the majority of my real life. When I first stepped aboard the Normany, I was DTF, man. Down. To. Fuck. I was macking on everyone like I was going to die tomorrow. I was dropping all sorts of sexy cavalier poems in the hopes of getting everyone to see just how fleeting this beautiful life was. We ain’t got time for jibber-jabber, we gotta fuck! I’m poetical, fuck!
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.
Carpe diem? I need to carpe that ass!
I think I overplayed my hand, though. I rolled up aboard the Normandy, and I was practically dry-humping the FTL console. Krogans, quarians, men, women, tentacles, it didn’t matter. I wanted that shit. And for that, I will pay the ultimate consequence; Kelly Chambers, obviously of a high quality of virtue and not to be a pawn, won’t talk to me no moh’.
MOTHERFRAKER.
Now? Now I’m stuck probably hate-fucking Jacob. Yeah, I’m playing as a chick, what of it? I’m typical, man. I’m just a dude, who secretly wishes he was a lesbian. I’m like, you know, the other zillion fanboys out there. Jacob’s a nice guy and all, but he really doesn’t do anything for me. Maybe because he looks like Kanye West, or maybe because he’s a void of emotion. Listen, Jacob. I know I hit the town like a fucking gangbuster, and I was practically salivating at the crotch bulge of your super-space-suit, but fuck man, I need to snuggle with whoever I’m tappin’. I know if I settle down with you for some fluid-sloshing, you’re just going to be back in the armory in like ten minutes.
I AM NOT AN OBJECT. Well, I might be, but that’s not all I am.
I’m not going to be complete until I finally consummate my thang with Yeoman Chambers. I don’t care how many playthroughs it takes. I’ll reform. I’ll stop trying to get Thane to meet me in the women’s restroom. Honest. I promise. Because you’re special, Kelly. The rest of those humans, aliens, and artificial lifeforms I’ve been trying to fuck? They’ve just been there to try and take you off my mind.
Xoxo.
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