[Search Engine Terms come from an app in the Word Press dashboard. It tells you the terms that people are using in google to lead to your site. Most of ours are ultra depraved and horrible. And amusing to sick people like me.]

I’m glad I’m not the only one totally taken aback by Locke and his thunderous pimp hand last night.

Also Jean Grey prude? Dude, no way. Jean Grey has totally had Wolverine up in her glove compartment. And it takes an animal to tame that dude.

I fucking miss world maps in Final Fantasy titles. A lot. They ain’t really been around since what, Final Fantasy IX? And with Final Fantasy XIII turning into one long-ass corridor for like a zillion hours, I despaired that we would never see one again. Well, we’re getting one in Final Fantasy XIII Versus.

via Andriasang:

Question: How far along is Versus?

Answer: Not everything is connected together, so the various areas have different levels of progress. However, you can fly across the world map in an air ship.

Yes.com

I picked up Modern Warfare 2 last night for the first time in months. Four, to be precise. And I actually didn’t suck! Alright, that’s a lie. What I meant to say is that I didn’t suck anymore than   I had when I last played it. This is a tremendous relief, since I put in a good amount of time improving myself to the point of just less than adequate. Phew!

Last night, I realized something while I was playing. I realized that I play my best when I blow my whole load. Of ammo. Duh. Like, my clip. You see, I can’t aim for shit. And often, I try and present myself as an adequate player. What a dumb idea! I’ll slowly aim, draw my sights on someone. And then by the time my fat fingers finally have them within my scope, I’m dead.

Dead, done, decimated.

So I said to myself, Drinkwater, you need a new strategy. Blow your whole load.

And it works! It really works. Blowing my whole load works. No trying to keep it in, to save face and be talented. Naw dude, I got to go the extra mile. At first I didn’t want to be that guy, spraying everywhere. It looks ridiculous, and it usually ends up with me on my back. But who the fuck cares, a kill is a kill, right?

And ever since I began just really firing away, I’ve noticed that I’ve actually begun to kill people. It’s sort of neat. Sure, it takes an entire round to finally drop the dude, but whatever. As well, I hope it’s especially demoralizing when they see me taking them out on the post-death Kill Cam. I’m just some asshole spraying everywhere. As usual.

Thwack and kapow! Smokey this week laid down the meanest of pimp hands I had seen in a long god damn time. It was honed to a perfection that only living for hundreds of years can give you. I mean, I’m sure we’ve all imagined giving a pimp hand at some point in our lives. For some reason, the idea of slapping someone across the face just seems enjoyable. It’s probably all the television and violent cartoons we were raised on.

Smokey has officially begun to freak me the fuck out. While I’ve never been on the “This Guy is Sweet, Jacob Is Dick” train, if I had been, I would calmly requested that I be let off at the next stop after this week. I mean, I know that Claire is insane, and she has shitty hair, and she builds baby cribs out of animal skeletons and shit, but if you missed the foreshadow that pimp hand wrought, yeah I don’t know what to tell you.

You want to bring that Jacob is a deceiver heat? Get the fuck out of here. Smokey is just as grand a manipulator as Jacob, and how! I mean, seriously. Jacob presents people with choices, offers them destinations. Smokey gives you the illusion of choice. What MiB spits is tantamount to “I’m not here to tell you what to do. But if you don’t come with me, I’m going to smash you into paste as a billowing cloud of crackling smoke.”

Yeah dude, freedom of choice right there.

Smokey spent this entire episode using the oldest trick in the book: divide and conquer. If you wanted insight into how he’s able to manipulate people with impressive effectiveness, just check out what went down. Smokey takes everyone aside and beguiles them with sugary promises and rhetoric. He’s good man, he’s like, real good. In a revealing conversation with Kate, the dude even lays out how he bent Claire to his will. He gave her someone to hate, and by hating them, she really worked out his objective of throwing down those dickheads who lived in the Temple of Doom.

His methods are awesome, and I say that with no sarcasm.

It’s continuing to all be so Locke versus Hobbes that if you’ve missed it by this point, I don’t know what to tell you. The appeal of MiB versus Smokey at this point isn’t really deciphering their motives, but watching them play out. We get it, yo. Free Will and the belief that humanity will do a solid versus the whole Humanity is a Dung Heap and needs to be controlled. Yep, got it. I got it a season ago. But you know what? I don’t give a fuck, I’m a philosophy geek.

There’s something so alluring about Smokey; but there’s always something so alluring about the darkness. The promises of what ever you want. I’ve seen Star Wars though, I know how this fucking shit ends. You fight Mace Windu in some shitty office apartment, and then you sire a son who kills your crippled ass. I mean, do we really think that Smokey wants to get them off the Island? That he really cares about them? I sure don’t. But I also think there’s really some uncomfortable side to Jacob, the God that Failed.

Poor Sawyer. Even in LAX, he’s haunted by the demons of Anthony Cooper. Sawyer’s a tricky cat to peg on LOST. He always seems one step away from either redemption or full blown moral collapse. As the episode unfolded in the main reality, we saw Sawyer once again walk this tight-rope over the precipice. And as usual, there really was no denouement. I really have no idea which way Sawyer is going to go on the Island, other than apparently back with Freckly McHussy. Oh god dammit, Kate.

I dug how Sawyer is a undercover detective, which means that even in LAX he’s a con man who gets to sleep with tons of women. His monologue explaining the thin line between criminal and cop was interesting, even if it smacked of a thousand cliches.

As a brief aside, last night I realized something. Sawyer has to be a genuinely hunky dude. Why? ‘Cause if he wasn’t, we would totally fixate on his hair. I mean, it’s fucking dumb. It’s all like, flinging around and awkward, and I can’t tell if maybe it’s a mullet, or maybe it’s just oddly coiffed. But it ain’t usual. No sir. I was watching him clunk about the detectives’ offices and I was like, what the fuck? How did I not notice that hair before?

But yeah dude, what are you going to do? I need to know. The world holds its breath. Maybe there will never be any resolution for him, maybe he’ll always be torn by those demons. If LAX a reflection of the consequences of one’s behavior on the Island, it would seem fitting that Sawyer is once again pigeonholed between happiness and totally byronic brooding. You go ahead and seethe, Sawyer. It’s what makes us swoon for you.

Let me ask you something. WHERE THE FUCK IS FARADAY!?

Everyone has fucking shown up in LAX save for my boyfriend. I need to see him. We’ve seen fucking Artz, Charlie’s dumb brother, Boone. What the fuck is this dog shit. Last night we got Charlotte. But no mullet-rocking fucking physicist? Who is so adorable in his quirkiness? Kiss my ass, LAX. I want to put up some fucking Scorpions, sit around with Faraday, and have temporal abnormalities affect my perceptions of reality and give me nosebleeds and crap. It’s hogwash.

Also, I can’t help but feel that it’s almost too convenient that everyone is showing up. They’re all concentrated in Los Angeles? It really makes me wonder if this isn’t some bubble reality that all of the people involved on the Island are somehow transported to.

Everyone, save for my boy.

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[source]

[Variant Covers is a column every Tuesday that breaks down the various titles coming out that week in the world where The Sentry can rip dudes in half even though he’s totally emo.]

Siege #3

The sun is finally shining, spring is arriving, and I’m excited for the next issue of Siege. Yeah man, I’ve been drinking the Siege Kool-Aid since the first issue. It’s such a refreshing spectacle. For starters, it’s short as fuck. This isn’t some prolonged storyline running over eight-issues and nineteen spin-offs. It’s four issues. Four. As well, there ain’t much going on besides people slugging the shit out of one another. Oh sure there’s minor developments and some inspirational speeches by Steve Rogers and others.

But for the most part? Just demigods swinging hateful knuckles at one another.

Last month, the fucking Sentry ripped Ares in half. It was one of the more memorable splash pages in recent memory. Guts and blood and rage vomited across two gorgeously drawn panels. Righteous. The Sentry is more than a blatant Superman rip-off, the dude is a schizophrenic mess with the powers of a God. He’s like Old Testament God, when Our Lord and Savior was totally emo and was like “Thou ain’t listening to me and shit, eat a flood!” They probably hang out.

So this month I’m begging for the throwdown between Thor and Mr. Bobby Reynolds. Listen, I had misgivings about Sentry being able to rip the God of War in half, but so help me if he’s able to take out the God of Thunder. That’s ludicrous. The first time I digested The Sentry splitting Ares like a shitty pizza, I was like, no way. One dude is a God, the other is just some byronic douchebag. So yeah, Marvel. I know you want to pump up The Sentry, but Mjolnir and The Mighty Viking better reign supreme.

Choker #2

The debut issue of Choker was a vulgar, insane, bloody detective story set in some depressingly shitty dystopian future. It should go without saying that I fucking loved it. The first issue laid the groundwork comfortably within the confines of familiar noir tropes. You have the beaten detective taking on a job promising some sort of salvation, that you just know is going to end poorly. What makes it so enjoyable is the odd world that Ben McCool and Ben Templesmith have envisioned. It’s dark as fuck, there’s lots of swearing, and apparently there’s vampires. Or something. The first issue set the stage, and I’m curious to see where they’re going this week with it.

I can’t recommend the title enough, if only because it’s a welcome alternative to my steady diet of capes and tights. Ian, you say, read some totally alternative indie comic book about a dude talking to his goldfish! Now that’s literature in graphic novel form!

No thanks.

I like my titles to be placed firmly in the fantastical, whether it be with mutants, or detectives up to their arms in shit in some dark future. I mean Jesus Christ, this title is set in Shotgun City. Am I simpleton? ‘Cause this shit seems awesome to me.

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God damn, they weren’t kidding. The first thirty minutes of God of War III are fucking insane. I can’t describe the scope of what’s going on. You’re running around on motherfucking Gaia, throwing down with Poseidon. Blood and thunder! Whipping around climbing Gaia, fighting the Lord of the Seas. It’s not so much the graphics, though they’re pretty spectacular. It’s the amount of shit going down on the screen. Epic clash? Hells to the yeah, fools.

The climax of the opening sequence is fucking absurd, yo. Kratos rips Posey out of the guts of some water manifestation of his might, and really just lays down an ass-whupping fit for the God of War. Props to whoever came up with the idea to convey the ass-kicking from the perspective of Poseidon. There’s a point at the end where you’re viewing Kratos through the eyes of Poseidon gouging his eyes out. As Kratos’ thumbs close-in on the dude, you can’t help but feel it some extent. It’s such a visceral idea, that I have to tip my cap to the boys at Santa Monica.

It seems as though this shit is legit. I have a suspicion that this game like all the other God of War titles prior, as well as the Uncharted games, is going to rip its hugest load far before the end of the game. How do you open a game up with such pomp and circumstance, without having a let down by the finale? I’m not sure it is possible.

So far though? Kratos is fucking deities’ eye-sockets with his fingers, to their doom.

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[Search Engine Terms come from an app in the Word Press dashboard. It tells you the terms that people are using in google to lead to your site. Most of ours are ultra depraved and horrible. And amusing to sick people like me.]

I’m certain that there are simply tons of movies to rent with penises. This is supposing that you’re looking to rent a movie featuring dongs. They’re called pornographic films. There’s a few of them out there. Or, are you looking for a film that you and a penis could enjoy? Do you have a date with a penis, and you’re wondering what sort of movie the two of you may enjoy? They’re also called pornographic films. Good luck, I think you may be able to find one.

Kratos is coming, and he’s fucking pissed. Still. He tried therapy once, but ended up just gouging the dude’s eye out and stamping it into mush. Wait, I think that was actually the thirteen-thousand cyclops he has run through in his travels. Either way.

I rocked out to the God of War III demo back in November and threw it aside with a resounding MEH! The graphics weren’t the second coming I was promised, and the gameplay was the same button-mashing, air-juggling bullshit that I had romped through in the first two games. Mind you, these were games I had enjoyed, but had already gotten my fill of.

Now though?

Now I’m fucking amplified, bro! How can I have a change of heart? Well, there’s a few reasons.

On a superficial level, apparently I wasn’t alone in thinking the graphics were less than mind-fucking in the demo. And better yet these emo complaints were addressed. For the actual game looks far more pimpin’ than the demo. There’s all sorts of complicated terms like Light Density Shadowing and Renderistic Manipulation of Polygonal Testicles and shit going on to explain why they look nicer. I don’t really care why, I’m just happy they do. I’m a superficial douchebag, okay? I got my HDTV, I got my 5.1 system, and I want a bass line so fiercely cranked through my subwoofer I void my bowls into my underpants willingly.

And secondly, let’s be honest. The God of War franchise has never been fantastic because of its base gameplay. The running around and smashing useless enemies thing never blew your pants off. Instead, what got your juices flowing all over your inner thighs were the action sequences. Whether it was fucking up the Hydra in the original game, or uh, doing something in the sequel, the games’ awesomeness were derived from the set pieces. The gameplay inbetween these sequences really don’t serve any purpose for me other than to guide me from one epic confrontation to the next.

Ain’t none of that found in the demo. Ain’t none. So while I was initially disappointed, I did some soul searching. And I came to the conclusion that while I found the regular gameplay highly repetitious, I always had. Realizing this in my heart of hearts, I came to the conclusion that there would certainly be the sort of sequences in the game that had blown me away in the previous two. I had to chill out, man. I had to relax.

This has all been confirmed by people who have gotten to play the game already. What a bag of dicks, those lucky ones. The general consensus is that the game is insane, and the first level will force-fuck your awesome gland until it’s flinging fluids everywhere. All the reviews gleam, I already informed FFXIII we were going to take a quick break, and I’m ready to rock at midnight.