One of the dopest things about Final Fantasy XIII for me so far is the battle system. It’s perfectly suited for my caffeine-soaked brain. It’s hyper-kinetic, and has you all over the place. I’m all WHOOSH WHOOSH PARADIGM SHIFT HEAL HEAL WHOOSH WHOOSH BACK TO KICKING ASS. Sometimes I lament the fact that I cannot control who is the party leader yet, and I also lament the fact that I cannot intervene and take control of the automated douchebags in my party. But other than that, it’s right up my alley. I like the fact that it has you hopping in and out or formations to suit the situation, and it feels like that concept compensates for the lack of autonomy you have over your other party members.

PARADIGM SHIFT.

• ..And Justice For All [Live]
  Before “Tallica Brings You Douchey-ness Baby!”, these guys used to be my heroes.
• Clerks Trailer
  Before Kevin Smith was too fat to fly, he was my hero. I was like thirteen.
• Battlestar Meets Beastie Boys’ Sabotage
  A beat for beat recreation of the Beastie Boys’ video using BSG footage. This is for the two people who haven’t seen this yet.
• 600,000 Women in West Nepal suffer from Uterine Prolapse
  I have no idea, I typed in “prolapse” to Youtube. That’s a lot of uterus turned inside out.

I just jammed two bowls of Raisin Bran Crunch down my throat and into my gut. And not because I’m hungry. The sad fact is that despite my best efforts, I’m still a bit of a lightweight. If I try to drink on an empty stomach, I’m destined to say something I’ll later regret.

So I’ve just scarfed down seven hundred calories of breakfast food and am now working on a suds-soda. Perhaps this isn’t the best diet to follow on a regular basis, but I think my nutritionist will loan me one mulligan. After all, it’s important to remember the old proverb — America was built on breakfast and beer.

Anyways, I’m sipping on Doggie Style Classic Pale Ale from the peeps at Flying Dog Ales. Truthfully, I was initially attracted to the beer because of label adorned with Ralph Steadman art. But these motherfuckers can craft a good brew, so I was willing to shell out ten bucks for a six pack.

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More shit is barfing up about the first paid Mass Effect 2 DLC, Kasumi’s Memory.

First off, would you believe it, the female character is hot? I know, right? Totally a shocker. Apparently in the Mass Effect universe, everyone is gorgeous looking, or at least in great shape. It doesn’t matter if you’re a politician, an archealogist, or a soldier, you’re fucking hot. You got abs like what, and dumps like a truck.

Secondly, the shit teases our e-dongs with hints of Earth again.

Take it away Kotaku, you beautiful fuck!

This DLC is Mass Effect’s ode to James Bond. It is an undercover slip into a formal-attire-required party at the estate of the shady Donovan Hock, mixed with a bit of schmoozing, a safe that needs cracking and then gunfire. There is a vault in this 90-minute level. It contains statues of familiar characters and two of the most popular statues from Earth: Michelangelo’s David and the Statue of Liberty.

Oh shiznit! Some vault has the fucking Statue of Liberty? I assume they’ve been saving Earth’s fate for the final installment of their first trilogy, but I’m assuming that nothing good has become of it.

And I fucking love vaults with hidden treasure, don’t you? Uncle Scrooge in Duck Tales was always my hero, because the dude could swim in gold coins. Every good universe needs some vault with awesome artifacts to be plundered by Nicholas Cage. Seriously.

I go ape shit for anything Mass Effect, and for those of you who don’t dig the universe, I’m probably driving you crazy. So to entertain you, and make this post worthwhile, I’d like to offer you something awesome:

Snap! Hugo Weaving has been cast as The Red Skull in the Captain America movie. Let me blast your tits with an analogy. This casting decision is as awesome as casting Jim from The Office as Steve Rogers would have been fucking awful. Take that to your Miller’s Analogies test. I dig on Weaving, the dude has owned my soul as Agent Smith, V from V For Vendetta, and as that Elf Guy whose name I won’t attempt to type from Lord of the Rings.

I tried to discuss this with my friend Andrew, and he went into such a blind rage about this casting being typecasting that I wanted to massage his testicles through the interwebz. I love you Andrew, it’s going to be okay. I’m fine with the casting, since I want The Red Skull to be some creepy, booming-voiced Nazi motherfucker. He’s got the sort of mug that screams “I’m creepy”, and his aforementioned voice is perfectly down for epic proclamations and monologuing, which we know all good villains must do at some point.

This is a total +50 to anticipation for the movie, and the first time I’ve been like, oh shiznit, this flick could work.

Apparently Bioware has announced their first batch of paid DLC for Mass Effect 2. Previously all their DLC was free for those of us who picked the game up at release through their nifty Cerberus pipeline. So now we have to pay? What the fuck! The balls! I’m actually okay with it, as long as it doesn’t blow. So far the DLC that’s dropped for ME2 has felt like either afterthoughts and bullshit   like the Normandy crash site; or shit that was intended to be in the game but cut to generate “DLC”, like Zaeed. I haven’t been really impressed. And while I am excited for the next batch of free DLC this month, I think I’m even more excited for Kasumi’s Memory.

Via Destructoid:

The content, which can be launched at any point during the narrative, can be divided into two themed swathes. The first half is exploration-based. The space Rogue Kasumi is seeking an item of value that is tucked deep in a bent rare-item collector’s vault. To get access, Shepard must travel to the collector’s house party, mingle, and discover where exactly that vault actually is. The second half is an escalating series of battles against mechs and soldiers after discovering the object.
Kasumi is, of course, a recruit for the suicide mission (or even after). And the best part is that she hits with fresh moves — the hippest being “Shadowcloak,” the space version of a “backstab.” But   more compelling than the addition of a thief and new moves is the fresh art. The rare item collector has a host of historical items in his house and vault, each lovingly crafted by BioWare’s artists. But The mansion, even the formal wear are all newly-created assets as well.

Fucking jawesome, bro! I’m a total and complete whore for Mass Effect 2. I spent the last two months playing through it non-stop. The only breaks I took from it were to look out the window of my basement dungeon and pine for a universe where I could get a drink in some intergalactic bar. I’m not a total nerd, but when I contemplate the fact that aliens aren’t real, I’ll never get to shout “JUMP” as someone flips an FTL switch, or go to the Citadel, I get mildly suicidal. Which is sort of par for the course.

Shit drops April 6.

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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]

Bruce Wayne has been dead for about a year now. During this time, Grant Morrison has unfurled one of the most interesting imaginings of the Batman mythology in years, letting Dick Grayson rock the cowl and having Damian fulfill role of Robin. It’s been refreshing to see typically static characters further developed, pushed into areas that drives some fanboys into genuine nerd rage. Yeah, it’s been great to see fans breaking down, screaming, “But…but, Bruce is Batman, not Richard…Because…that’s how it’s been…and…well, see…you CAN’T CHANGE THE STORY! BECAUSE I’VE NEVER SQUEEZED A TITTY! AND A RESPECT FOR SIXTY YEARS OF CONTINUITY IS THE ONLY THING KEEPING A BULLET FROM MY BRAIN!!!”

One might be inclined think that a comic whose cover advertises “The Return of Bruce Wayne Begins Here!” would really cheese me off. But Batman and Robin #10, the comic touting just that, is actually quite enjoyable. The book is a well put together balancing act, laying an early foundation for the return of the original Caped Crusader while still playing with the currently assembled cast. Since superheroes never manage to stay dead for long, the best one can hope for is a reanimation that still progresses the mythos.

With Batman and Robin #10, Morrison runs the characters through the unavoidable emotional gamut that comes with bringing loved ones back from the dead. On one hand, Dick is eager to snatch Bruce Wayne out of the abyss, snacking on every morsel of a lead he finds in his investigations. After all, Wayne is the guy that saved his life, offering him a home and a purpose after his parents got capped.

On the other hand, Damian is a bit more hesitant to welcome his father back to the land of the living. But when you look at it from his perspective, the reservations make sense. First of all, Damian never really had a great relationship with his father. Moreover, if Bruce Wayne were to reassume the Batman responsibilities, Damian would be SOL; Dick Grayson can go back to being Nightwing, but the younger Wayne has nothing to fall back on. He can’t go even go back to his crimelord mama, as he had to defy her to even keep his job as Robin.

When it’s not ruminating about feelings, Batman and Robin #10 has got some sick, kooky-ass comic book shit to keep you flipping pages. There are newly discovered secret passages in Wayne Manor. There are goofy bad guys, showing up just a second too late to get Batman’s mysterious ally. Oh, there are some strong hints (I smell red herring) that aforementioned ally is actually the already-returned Bruce Wayne. Also, time travel is involved in one way or another. I think.

The issue is peniclled by Andy Clarke and inked by Scott Hanna, whose combined efforts come across as an imitation of Frank Quitely. Which is fine, really, since Quitely started this series and is one of my favorite current artists. Clarke and Hanna are pretty much par for the Batman and Robin course, never particularly wowing me but certainly not disappointing me either. Again, I’d love to see Frank Quitely do every issue of the series, but I prefer this pair to former pencillers like Philip Tan and Cameron Stewart.

With its vibrant colors and bubbly approach to a morbid topic, Batman and Robin #10 is damn fun. Yes, I used the three-letter word that is to be avoided at all costs, but that’s what pops up when I think of this comic book. Grant Morrison is proving, once again, that comic books don’t have to be gritty, macabre spectacles in order to be entertaining.

Sometimes the light hearted approach is best.

You have to give it up to Square Enix. They don’t even try to be subtle in their hyper-sexualizing of teenagers in Final Fantasy XIII. Sometimes FFXIII feels like a copy of Barely Legal for overweight and underweight nerds.

At first I thought I was just a big pervert when I began playing Final Fantasy XIII. I mean, once Vanille was on screen, my parts engorged and I was like, why am I so attracted to this polygonal teenager? I thought to myself that it’s probably because I’m a fat nerdboy who also suffers from a laundry list of mental impairments. She was there on screen, all being cute, but scantily clad with skin everywhere. God dammit!, I thought to myself. This is how it starts.

But then I was saved! You see, Final Fantasy XIII wants to me to get a hard-on for the near jailbait! I realized it pretty early into the game. When the gang of douchebags get branded for their Focus or whatever, and they’re turned into L’Cie, there’s this moment where they’re all showing where they’ve been branded. I’m sort of half-paying attention as they show their brands, and then Vanille shows hers. It’s all the way up her thigh, right next to her ass. Which she reveals by pulling up her skirt, revealing pure, milky goodness. Jesus Christ I thought, this is exactly what they want! I was relieved, and continued playing, not bothering to put my pants back on.

I own this dumb shit already. It’s called my Wii. It sits unused gathering dust while I use two systems that aren’t predicated on gimmicky motion control bullshit. The only time I want to be furiously working my wrists is when I’m pleasuring myself or a partner. I’m going to probably end up buying this anyways. Oh well.