I recently borrowed the Assassin’s Creed series from a friend.  As I completed AC2 and moved on to Brotherhood I got to thinking; damn this series has a lot of sequels.  So then I started thinking about series that were not as flushed out, or even independent IPs that could use a little more love.  So here you have it, if I was overlord of the world, these would be the video game sequels that I would demand be made.  (Requirements being that a game using the IP does not exist on the current level of home consoles)

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Wagwan, my friends! What’s good in the world. It’s Wednesday, that pinnacle of the week for the comic book oriented folk. The day when we gather around the comic shelves, or I suppose the digi-shelves, and stoke our nerd inclinations with the newest of funny rags. This is the nearest and dearest column where we wax excited about the titles we’re snagging this week, sharing the particulars and the overrunning joy with one another. It’s a beautiful thing. Hardened nipples. Emptied wallets. Sequential art. What’s not to love?

Don’t know what’s dropping? Hit up ComicList.

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Jambo!

After being dead for ten months, it feels amazing to walk the Earth again. To feel the carpet beneath my toes, to bear hug loved ones, to booze in the fellowship of my ka-tet. These are the moments that the universe is pushing us towards, the acknowledgment of those simple pleasures that can only be appreciated when our spirits and minds are where they’re supposed to be.

`Cause let me tell ya, there’s nothing worse than being a poltergeist. I’ve been there. Roaming about, looking for a place to say, nothing more than a broken spirit relegated to brief appearances and disruptive dispositions. I’ve been that figure that people’re surprised to see, and not always pleasantly so.

It might be a perfect way to be dead, but it’s no way to live.

—-

Welcome to the Monday Morning Commute! I’m going to show you some of the various ways I’ll be entertainin’ myself during the week. After scoping out my wares, it’s your task to make your presence known in the rumble pit known as the comments section. What movies, comics, beverages, albums, and activities are you lookin’ forward to rockin’?

Let’s do this!

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A couple weeks ago I sat down with a comic called A.K.A., fully intending to just read the first issue in the collection. Before I knew it, an hour had passed and final panels of the book were quickly transforming from mysteries into memories. What was it that inspired me to keep readin’, ignorin’ the ringin’ phone and the frantic cries of the mailman outside my window to save him from the vocal veteran’s rabid mailman?

Pure comics bad-assery.

A.K.A. is a perfect throwback to those golden years when mawkish snooze fests hopin’ to snag Oscars weren’t the only films considered high-quality. No, this comic summons the spirits of the 1970s exploitation flicks that taught moviegoers the value of flawed heroes, babes with dangerous measurements, and gratuitous violence. As the (anti)hero of A.K.A., Guy Doyle navigates his way through these elements, in the process teaching the reader how to revel in the chaos of a mob war.

So won over was my heart that I decided to reach out to Steven Walters, the man responsible for penning this tasteful tale of tawdry turmoil. Walters proved to be incredibly gracious, answering each of my questions with vigor and poise. Which was reassuring, as many of his characters are less gracious and more bloodthirsty.

Hit the jump to check out what Walters’ thoughts on the comics medium, exploitation films, and the quest of artistic expression.

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Thanks to the work of most of the OL community, I walked out of Prometheus yesterday not nearly as disappointed as I probably should have.  I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t like.  I would probably watch it again if it was on TV or at a friend hosted movie night.  I won’t go out of my way to see it however.  That train of thought got me thinking though.  A while back I posted a High 5 that involved movies that other people like and I hated.  What about the movies I love but know suck?  Well, here they are.  Feel free to add your own, or make fun of me for liking these shit stains on celluloid.

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Look to the stars and tell me what you see.

Hope? Possibility? Wonder? All there, of course. But sometimes when we crank our necks and gaze starward we can’t help but see the lifeless shells of our gods drifting about. The carcasses of once-beloved titans, now mere space debris. Inanimate. No longer fighting for us.

What’s worse is that upon being vacated, the cadavers of our deities fall prey to the very demons they’d hoped to battle into eternity. What these obsidian antagonists lack in strength they make up for with immortality. And tenacity. As such, they wait until their enemies have been felled by by the uncaring sword of Providence and then ravage the remains.

Apathy. Complacency. Pessimism. But three members of the nefarious tribe known as Cosmic Demons.

So what’re we to do? How can we help preserve the splendor of the night sky as dusk descends and the stars come out? Well, I’ll let you in on a secret. The truth is that those giant forms vulnerably swimming across our telescopic paths only look like god-corpses. But in actuality, they are vehicles just waiting to be piloted again. Hell, we can even set up shop and inhabit them for the rest of our days! We don’t have to mistake the idol for the idea!

Become the gods you praise. Take a stand against galactic gluttony. Slay demons with creativity.

—-

Welcome to the MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE!

I’m going to take you through all the ways I’ll be slaying ennui-demons on my quest for the weekend! After checking out my conquests, hit up the comments sections and detail your own!

Grab your battle-axe and get in the rocketship!

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It’s a bit of a stretch, asking anyone to come out of Prometheus this weekend without an overwhelming sensation of feeling hollow.  It’s a rather empty, desolate film in all the ways that matter:  setting, visuals, character – even plot.  There just isn’t a lot there.

Compounding the problem is that the marketing machine behind the film has inadvertently already given you 90% of it.  Walking out of the theatre tonight or tomorrow will feel like you’ve just seen an extended trailer, albeit a two hour one.

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Dodging stray dogs and traffic and my own ineptitude, I ran through the streets in the rain.

I hadn’t felt that alive in a good long time. A month? A year? I’m not sure. But as I clutched the package and hopped over gasoline-streaked puddles, I felt an undeniable electricity dancing up and down my spine, reminding me that this is my one life and I’d damn well better appreciate it. So even though it was bright’n’sunny when I went into the liquor store, and I found myself sprinting with the ferocity of a Wally West fan-video so as safely transport my beers, I couldn’t help but smile.

Runnin’ through the rain on a Friday afternoon isn’t an inconvenience, it’s a goddamn privilege.

Safely within the confines of my apartment/spaceship (my therapist is tryin’ to help me come to terms with that one), I unloaded the cargo I’d guarded so closely. I didn’t want any of the wonderful acid-precipitation that we call weather to touch these containers, and in that mission I’d been wholly successful. Now, the next test revealed itself as I attempted to remedy faith with scientific experiment.

What the hell does any of this mean? Well, if I can decipher my own nonsense, it means that I’m going to try to quantitatively describe a sacred ritual. Science details religion?

That’s right, today I’m reviewin’ Monk’s Blood.

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[Ray Bradbury died today]

I was filching my seventh cup of caffeinated splendor from the coffee machine when a coworker came rushing towards me. He had mustard on his shirt and concern in his eyes. “Hey man, how’re you holding up? You all right?”

After taking a rip of coffee, I proceeded. “Rodrigo, what the hell’re you talkin’ about? Why wouldn’t I be all right?”

“Oh shit, I thought you heard…Dude, Ray Bradbury died.”

“Bwahahaha,” I sprayed coffee all over my dress-pants. “That’s hilarious!

Rodrigo was befuddled. “Hilarious? I thought you’d be upset. Isn’t Bradbury your favorite author?”

“Of course he is! Bradbury straddles the lines between science fiction and fantasy and parable like no other! He’s an avuncular horror-master, a winsome conveyor of the fantastic! Fahrenheit 451! The Illustrated Man! The Martian Chronicles! How could Bradbury not be my favorite?”

“So,” Rodrigo ventured forth cautiously, “you love Ray Bradbury but don’t care that he’s dead?”

I once again found myself struggling to spill the coffee past the bulwark of laughter and into my gullet. Finally successful, I wiped an errant tear streaming down my cheek and broke into a smile. I’d help my coworker understand.

“Ray Bradbury  can’t die. When he was twelve years old, Mr. Electrico imbued him with the power to live forever! And now, regardless of what’s happened to his corporeal form, Ray’s going to be with us forever.”

[Ray Bradbury is going to live forever]

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June is upon us my friends. And that can mean only two things, beach days and high school graduations. This high five will be dealing with the latter. As a new high school grad, there are some notions of college life that have to be explained. Where better to look than the silver screen? These are the top 5 movies every prospective college student should see, and subsequently emulate (not really) if they want to fully embrace the collegiate experience.

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