Remember guys, when rival developer teams engage in a cock-measuring contest, there’s only one outcome for the gamers: Awesomeness.

Apparently the teams behind Metal Gear Solid: Rising for the 360/PS3 and Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker for the PSP aren’t too fond of one another. Why’s that? Take it away, Kojima:

“The reason why I say they are not good friends is because the PSP is working day and night to make it even better than MGS4, but of course they can’t do it because of a lot of restrictions,” he tells Gamepro. “On the other hand, the Rising team is using loads of money and loads of capacity and hardware specs.”

The Peace Walker bros are constrained to budgets and other logical concepts. However the MGS: Rising team probably spends the equivalent of the Peace Walker budget just modeling Raiden’s fruity ninja-stripper boots. I can only imagine how much money the Rising team has just spent on tickle-fights and other getaway retreats shooting guns and building absurdity Post-Modern Paper-Mache monuments to Hideo Kojima.

Hopefully their utter disdain for one another pushes them both into making ballin’ games. I’ve never owned a PSP, but with Kojima jacking off over how awesome Peace Walker is going to be, picking up the portable continues to tempt me. Now, back to the cock-measuring!

How the fuck did this shit get by me? I guess I’m not a soda afficinado. In fact, I sort of just grip it and rip it. I’m a junkie, I don’t have time to be investigating. I just need to consume before I get the shakes. I did some interneting today, and came across this:

For the first time in the brand’s history, Mountain Dew is introducing a flavored line extension available exclusively in a diet version.

Diet Mountain Dew UltraViolet, on store shelves for a limited time for 12 weeks beginning August 10, combines the light citrus flavor of Diet Mountain Dew with a refreshing juicy rush of mixed berries without the calories.

The product will be supported with a full slate of TV and radio advertising developed by BBDO NY.

Well anyhoo, I’ve been seeing this shit everywhere now. It’s on all the shelves, and I’m pounding it like a motherfuckah. You have to understand, I drink liters and liters of Diet Dew a day. The ability to throw in a little different taste amidst What Will Eventually Kill Me is fantastic. I recommend this to any fellow diet cola junkie, looking for some variety amongst their addiction. You only have twelve weeks until it’s back to can after can of bland ole Mr. Regular Chemical Death.

Here’s a shitty trailer to the sequel to that shitty movie, Boondock Saints. I don’t understand the rampant cumming over Boondock Saints. I remember it being an absolute explosion here in WICKED AWESOME Boston, and it really confused me. It was a shitty Tarantino rip-off with like OMFG blood and violence. YAWN.

Boondock Saints is part of a question which has stumped me for years though, and feel free to weigh in:

What’s the most overrated piece of cinematic garbage of the last ten years, Boondock Saints or Donnie Darko?

I’ve been stumped forever.

At some point in my life, I had to make a solemn pledge to myself. There came a time when I had to hold myself to a certain promise, no matter how painful it became. You see, there was a time when I said:

Ian William Drinkwater, you will not, I repeat WILL NOT play World of Warcraft instead of hanging out with your friends, or your girlfriend, and so help me God, if you turn down sex to make a raid on time, I will kill you. Which is sort of like killing yourself.

That I even had to have this conversation with myself is indicative of how addicted a player can become to World of Warcraft. If you don’t play the game, you won’t understand it. And if you do play the game, you’re probably thinking: No way bro, no way you’ll hold yourself to that standard.

And sometimes, sometimes it gets hard.

All of this is rummaging through my head as news trickles out that Blizzard’s COO wants us idiots to play their new MMO on top of WoW. The delicate balance that socially functioning nerds have between their crack and their lives always threatens to tilt and sway towards the darkness of empty soda cans and baggy eyelids.

There’s been this shitty fake bow that I had been sweating forever in Ulduar, the latest virtual weapon that means nothing in real life that has no impact on my existence. And yet it does. Week after week it eluded me.   I swore and swore and found new exciting ways to chain together vulgar words like a fucking Ultra Combo in Killer Instinct.

And that’s what kept me coming back. Despite the monotony of the same fucking dungeon every week, despite the knowledge that I was squandering my life not writing, sitting in front of a computer screen, eating too much and staying up too late.

I needed that fucking bow. So I could shoot bad guys bigger, faster, more pwningly.

I had always defended my raiding life through various skillful rationalizations. You see, my guild raids at 10 p.m. It is the blessing/curse of my friend Brian choosing a West Coast server four years ago. So my rationalization always went like this:

Well, it’s a week night. And my girlfriend, being a functioning human being, who contributes to society, has to go to bed. She must sleep, because she isn’t a worthless parasite like myself. And so if she has to sleep, then I’ll be fine.

And to an extent, that’s true. If I lived on the West Coast, I couldn’t be raiding. In some ways, having to raid into the early morning is the only way it could work for me. There’s no way that I could spend every night from 7 p.m. until 10 p.m. in front of a computer. I’d miss dinner; I’d miss quality time with my girlfriend and friends.

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There’s a moment in the ending to Final Fantasy VII where Cloud hefts Tifa and her enormous bosoms on top of a cliff. They gently bounce up and down and settle for a moment. I was fourteen at the time. Without exaggeration, my cockhead almost exploded. I was in love. Well, apparently I’m not alone:

Via Destructoid:

In Japan, Konami conducted a lifestyle survey of 500 men in their twenties, just releasing the results late last month.   About 40 percent of these men said that they thought in-game love is something worth seeking out. About 20 percent of those polled actually want love with a videogame character.

Alright, actually, these dudes are actually crazier than me. Listen, I have an excuse. In 1997 I was fourteen years old. The hormones rushing through my body had me….thinking the same inappropriate thoughts that I do now about video game females. Shit. Well, yeah, but I’ve never actually thought that it was “something worth seeking out”. Holy shit, what does that even mean? Are these dudes trying to conjure up Sheva from Resident Evil 5 through some sort of mechanism that drags avatars into the real world? You know, like in All Tomorrow’s Parties?

See, and people shit on American television being a bad influence! Japan has all that god damn whacky anime, and Gozilla and tentacle porn! And now these poor warped young dudes then think pursuing love with a fictional character is worth the effort.

Fucking weirdos.

(Call me if you figure it out.)

Normally having a gorgeous girlfriend is a benefit unto itself. However, apparently I’m going to have to guilt her into winning me…uh, I mean, “us” a sweet HD gaming set-up. Peep this shit:

Via Kotaku:

If you think you’re a dead ringer for the witch, you need to submit your pictures by Sept. 30. The best looking of the lot will then be posted on Maxim.com for fans to vote on from Oct. 1 to Oct. 23.

The final winner will be selected by Maxim and game developer Platinum Games, awarding the lucky faux Bayonetta an Xbox 360, a 50 inch Panasonic TC-P50X1 HDTV Plasma TV and an Xbox 360 version of the game.

She already has the cute Bayonetta glasses, and her hair is blonde but that’s why the good lord invented Loreal or whatever that hair-dyeing shit is called.

I’m just kidding of course. She has too much class to do this. Which can mean only one thing. My hairy nerd-ass, smacking of computer chair stink and pudginess in leather.

As Scar says in the Lion King, Be PREPARRRRRED.

I woke up a tweet today that literally had me barfing all over my own crotch. Yes grammar Nazis, literally. Amidst the screams of “Why, God, why have you forsaken me?” and the shrills of my cat, understandably upset at his master, barfing and barfing all over his own bare balls, I read this:

Love it or hate it, there’s no denying that people are watching Warehouse 13. The Syfy series set an all-time ratings high for the network again last week, with 4.4 million people tuning in to see evil Myka.

Who would have thought a simple tweet from Mr. Mars would have sent me on an incredible ball-soaking vomit bonanza.

Sweet Jesus lord, end my fucking life now. You man that Warehouse 13, the generic, Shaws Cola edition of Fringe Files Torchwood-atron beat out every episode of Battlestar Galactica? Ever? Whoops, there I go again. Barfing on my god damn balls.

Are you fools ready to Fuck Crime! next April? I hope so! Because the movie adaptation of the comic book Kick-Ass is spilling into theaters on April 16, 2010. I have to say, I’m one of the few people I know that isn’t totally jizzing over the comic book. It’s yet another Mark Millar riff on SUPERHEROES IN THE REAL WORLD, ala Wanted, Marvel 1985, et cetera, et cetera. And it seems to rely on hyperviolence and shock value. I should probably admit after stating that though, that Mark Millar is one of my favorite comic book writers. And he’s scribed countless stories I’ve adored. Maybe I’m just burnt out on ultraviolence. It’s not his fault. I love you Mark! It’s just that every time I read an issue, I get the feeling there’s the “Are you shocked?! Are you offended? Eh! EH?!”

No, I’m not. I jerk off to scat porn. A little girl saying the word “Cunt” doesn’t blow me away anymore.

That said, I couldn’t help but be amazed by the clips that leaked from San Diego Comic Con this year. They’re pretty god damn faithful. Deep down inside I’m sweating the movie, and I have the funny feeling it’s going to blow my god damn socks off. As well, the fact that the movie was independently funded reeks of awesomeness and I love the fact that they just shot the fucking movie they wanted, and sold it afterwards. I think I may be fawning. Fuck. Shit.

I’m conflicted.

Lay off me, I’m bipolar.

You’re all welcome for the picture. I thought Evan Rachel Wood coming onto True Blood (pictured above) would be awesome. Why? As seen above, she’s absolutely gorgeous. I guess most of the time. She debuted on Sunday, puffy-faced and pimply, spitting awful dialogue from Mr. Alan Ball.

My good friend Mr. Patrick Mars writes a hilarious True Blood Re-Up every week over at Mishka Bloglin. Poor dude was watching True Blood tonight and texting me as he endured it, and he hit me with a sentence that hollered genius. In one blast of hilarity, he captures how I feel about the entire episode:

I wonder if this is how they explain shit in the books. Its like Muppet Babies.

Awesome.

You have to love a sensationalistic headline, don’t you?

Infinity Ward posted some CTF goodness over on their official Youtube. Holy shit is this gameplay footage gorgeous.

I’m just kidding about it the headline, though.   Sort of. My brother worked at a summer camp and told me that some kids played CoD and you know, had years to go before their first nocturnal emission. My therapist’s kid plays it, I think he’s thirteen. EVERYONE plays it. It’s universally loved. Like pizza.

[ story via kotaku ]