Yeah son, there above is a fucking human face. Sort of.

The motherfuckers at the BBC have crushed it with their scientific techowankery this time. Using high-resolution scans, they’ve created this time-lapse video of a human embryo’s face growing. Watch in awe and horror as it reveals our fucking amphibian past. Evolution is amazing.

Hit the jump for the video.

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…Oh boy. There’s some set pictures from the filming of ‘Dark Knight Rises’ in India that have some pretty sexy implications if they show what I think they show.

You’ve been fucking warned.

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What’s up, fleshbags! I hope the previous 168 or so hours have been palatable to your sensory glands. All the stimuli processed rather flowingly. What a goddamn week it’s been for the Empire! We put a bullet through the eyes of a terrorist, fist-pumped for like thirty minutes while drinking beer, and then went back to fighting like petulant high schools.

It’s cool though, it gave me a brief reprieve before remembering why I escape into comic books and video games.

This is Press Start!, or five things I dug in the world of video games this week. I went out of my way to fucking not mention either Wii 2 or PSN news, I apologize. Hit me with your own choice moments in the land of combo breakers and 1UPs.

—-

#1: China Gets A Handheld that’s NGP Meets Xbox 360 Abortion.
Sony can’t seem to catch a fucking break these days. No sooner do they take down Geohot, they have to begin piecing together an online network from cobbled portions of compromised sectors and uh, phoenix walls and uh other stuff Jack Bauer babbled about.

Now they got this motherfucking aberration. Meet the iReadyGo RG, the Chinese knock-off of Sony’s upcoming handheld. It’s a nearly identical copy of the NGP, except that it looks like the NGP swapped saliva with the garish buttons that adorned the Xbox 360. The most interesting shit is that ” we’ll be seeing some Android love here, and indeed, iReadyGo is currently recruiting six senior Android developers.”

Outstanding. Keep your chin up, Sony. I love you. You have a great personality.

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#2: Guardian Heroes Is Coming To XBLA. Fuck Yes.
Quick quiz: did you play Guardian Heroes back in the day? If you answered no, there’s redemption coming. If you answered yes, your swagger is immaculate. Welcome to the club. Guardian Heroes is a fucking cult classic by beloved, worshipped, and occasionally masturbated to developer Treasure. The pig came out for Sega Saturn – god rest that console’s soul – and you can currently get an original copy of it on eBay for over $100.

Or you can wait! This shit is coming to the XBLA this Fall, with optional remastered graphics. Fuck yes! As a douchebag who worshipped Treasure and my two Saturns (kid, you need a Japanese one to play X-Men vs. Street Fighter, right?!) back in the day, this is outstanding. Why the fuck did I ever sell my copy?

Now we just need NiGHTS on the downloadable tip. Please, God. Please.

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#3: Dude Snags Nintendo 3DS Augmented Reality Tat.
This is one of the most scorching boss mode. cranberryzero over at iheartchaos was fucking around with his Nintendo 3DS and its augmented reality games. Then the dude-turned-genius thought about how dope it would be to get the AR card as a fucking tattoo. So he did. The craziest part? It fucking works.

Welcome to post-humanist future wankery right here. Fucking outstanding. Bask in the glory of modifying one’s body to project a digital image. We all need lenses and modifications so we can glimmer about in a gorgeously virtual-turned-real-enough world.
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Ladies and gentlemen and swine, I’m pleased to introduce Chris Goodwin. Chris and I first started writing criticism together when we spawned RobotBitesMan in early 1984. All self-loathing and cynicism aside, Chris is the reason movie reviews should still be read today.

Anyone with fingers and eyes can publish their movie reviews online, but finding someone with passion nowadays is seriously hard to find. Everyone is (or acts like they’re) so jaded and writes these miserable, pre-destined reviews. And believe me, Chris has every reason to be jaded. He’s seen every beloved horror franchise he grew up with “revamped” but despite the river of crap, he remains excited to see new flicks. That’s fucking rare nowadays.

So without further whatever, here’s Chris’ review of THOR. Oh crap. Did I forget to mention that Chris adorned himself in his personal Asgard armor for the film? Well I just did. Bow down, pussies.

Here’s a THOR review from the mouth of someone you should be reading a THOR review from: someone who loves movies and loves THOR.

I know what you’re thinking.   “This guy has problems.”   Well, if by problems you mean a strong desire to be awesome, then you’re correct.   Not many people have the balls to fully embrace something they love to the extent that I do, and that’s a shame.   Why wouldn’t you want to absorb might, strength, and power into your daily lives?   The Norsemen had the right idea, so grow a pair and live life the Viking way!   MARVEL studios has been doing just that, and THOR is all the proof you need.

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[images & words is the comic book pick-of-the-week at OL. equal parts review and diatribe, the post highlights the most memorable/infuriating/entertaining book released that wednesday]

This post is specifically designed for jabronis and slutbags. Why is that? Why am I addressing such human wreckage? Well, simply put, Uncanny X-Force #9 is a comic that everyone should be able to enjoy.

Even the cretins of the multiverse.

Elder Brother Omega has been singing praises of this series for awhile now. Unfortunately, I’d mostly turned a deaf ear to these songs of jubilation, preferring instead to rely   on pre-judgments and close-minded certitudes. “Oh, an X-title about a team designed specifically to murder the most dangerous threats on the planet – it must be fanboy manual-masturbation. What a setback to the art of sequential narrative.”

Yes, I’ve be known to play the role of the unpersuadable asshole.

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Enlarge. | Via.

Drink that existential wankery in, my friends. A gorgeous picture of Mars, detailing enormous fractures on her surface.

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Enlarge.

A single piece of art from Frank Miller’s ‘The Dark Knight Returns’ just became the most expensive single piece of US comic art. Ever.

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Oh hell yes.

One of my favorite young directors right now is Dane Nicolas Winding Refn. Out the gate he wrote and directed the brutally beautiful Pusher Trilogy, which he followed up with Bronson. I was rather unimpressed with 2009’s Valhalla Rising – lengthy shots of nature doesn’t equal “atmosphere” in my book.

But all is redeemed thanks to this two-minute clip from Refn’s first Hollywood outing: Drive. Premiering at Cannes this year, Drive stars Ryan Gosling as a professional getaway driver. Yes please. Judging by this short, tense clip, it’s going to be some really exciting shit and a worthy homage to classic car flicks like Vanishing Point and The Driver.

Watch the clip here and let’s pray this gets a big release.

[face of a franchise presents two individuals that’ve fulfilled the same role. your task — choose the better of the two and defend your choice in the rancor pit that is the comments section]

Terminator 2: Judgment Day is a flick that has everything going for it – groundbreaking special effects, a story that adds a unique twist to the original film, and Conan the goddamn Destroyer! But all of these structures are supported by the crux that is Edward Furlong’s performance as John Connor. After all, this figure is the boy who would grow up to be the man that leads the resistance against the robo-tyrants. Barely a teen during the filming, Furlong paints a flawless portrait of a boy who is without hope before being visited by two time-travelers – one Austrian super-machine who wants to save him and one Agent Doggett who wants to kill him.

At this point, it’s a classic tale. And without Furlong, I’m not sure it would be.

A few years later, Hollywood decided that there were more diamonds to be mined out of Mount Terminator. Thus, more sequels were commissioned. Due to some mysterious circumstances *cough*drugs*cough* Edward Furlong was not invited to reprise the role of John Connor. Utter bullshit, I say! Who cares if Furlong’s strung out on China White? Couldn’t a good director use that? Hell, John Connor’s a man rising against supercomputer overlords, shouldn’t he seem exhausted?

Whatever, man. It’s just politics, as per usual. Totally.

In any case, the sequels saw John Connor portrayed by two different schmohawks. In Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines Nick Stahl was thrust into the role of humanity’s savior. Stahl was a shoo-in for the face of the high-action franchise, seeing as he had starred in Mel Gibson’s directorial debut. In Terminator Salvation, Christian Bale put his own spin on the character of John Connor. Uneasy about filling the shoes of his predecessors, Bale called upon the assistance of some of our generation’s greatest actors, individuals of unquestionable integrity.

It’s clear that Bale wanted nothing but professionalism on the set of T4.

Nick Stahl or Christian Bale – who is the better John Connor?

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[DEFEAT. is Rendar Frankenstein’s truest attempt at fiction.   Presented in weekly episodes, the novella tells the tale of Daryl Millar – a hero who dies at the intersection of pop culture, science-fiction, war epic, and fantasy]

The man in the black suit had sex on his mind and murder on his lips. He strolled about the bar casually, basking in the waves of smoke and perfume and unadulterated passion. Ah, this feels so damn good he mused, soaking up the human emotions of which he was usually devoid.

Of which he was usually incapable.

But a year had come and gone, and the man in the black suit was again granted his one day. Twenty-four hours in which he would not only be able to feel again, but to feel in a way that no human could fathom. Sensation amplification, if you will. Food and wine tingling on the tongue in such a manner as to border on erotic ecstasy. Every neon bulb in the bar shining brighter than it had been ever been designed to. The chatter and laughter and soft whisperings behind ears, every single syllable being heard with a stereo clarity that wouldn’t be mastered for decades. Aromas, even sweat and tears, hitting his nose with a candy shop sweetness.

And touching another human being – well, that’s what the man in the black suit spent the year looking forward to the most.

Even incidental contact, brushing by others as he made his way through the lounge, was enough to make him close his eyes and breathe heavily. This pushed the man in the black suit toward his emotional precipice, threatening to derail his plans if he wasn’t careful. “Oh my,” he exhaled, “I had better get to it.” He was acting with resolve. Dark, deadly resolve.

Moving towards the back of the bar, the man in the black suit scouted the scene. He was one of only a few men at the club that wasn’t a soldier. And soldiers always wooed the girls away. A symptom of the times he figured. But for every member of the armed forces present, there were at least three civilian women. So there were plenty of choices, and besides, trying to filch away a woman from one of these soldiers would’ve been bad news.

Not that the man in the black suit couldn’t kill the lot of `em. But he didn’t want the mess. Not on his one special day of the year, anyway.

A stroke of luck! He spied a dainty, raven-haired beauty sitting by herself at a table, milking a cigarette for all its worth. Her impeccable smile, her slender frame, her gossamer throat, it was all so sexually invigorating. Even her pale complexion — she wasn’t a Geisha, but her milky face wasn’t too far off — it screamed for attention in the midst of a society that generally asked all members to keep their eyes glued to the floor.

And feeling the bloodlust rising within, the man in the black suit couldn’t help but imagine how good it would feel to absolutely destroy the girl. To pillage her. Mind. Body. Soul. Consentual sex wouldn’t suffice, not on this day of hyperbolic sensation. No, he would forcefully enter her, deposit his rotten, lifeless seed, and then murder her. Approaching his prey, he conjured images of wrapping his hands around her throat and squeezing, squeezing, squeezing existence away.

“Hello. How are you this evening?”

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