My obsession is getting bad, I can tell, because despite having not bought a figure in years, I need this. I need you, Lightning.

I’ve completed the Dante’s Inferno demo, and I have to say, I’ve never been so utterly impressed by how much of a ripoff a game is of another title. But Dante’s Infero has just done that. Like, the fucking game should be called God of War: Italian Epic Poem Style or some shit. Everything, everything, everything is like God of War. Chests for health? Check. Typical air-juggle move? Check. Fatalities? Check. Annoying quick-time sequences? Double check. Like seriously, holy shit. I’m flummoxed as to how one studio can riff on another studio so fucking hardcore.

The craziest part? I liked it way, way more than the God of War III demo. So without further adieu, I’ll capture my experience of playing the Dante’s Inferno demo.

Okay, let’s see here. What the fuck is going on. Some lame cartoon cinematic. It’s an oliphant from Lord of the Rings. Awesome. Ah, this dude is like, stitching a cross into his chest? That’s pretty fucked up. Okay, cool. Alright, boring cinema. Jesus Christ, I just want to kill shit. Alright, combat. Hey, wow, is this game running on the God of War III engine? This is exactly the same shit. Ah, combat. Also exactly the same. Except it’s much easier. Oh shit, alright air-juggle. Good, if this game is God of War, I need my air-juggle. Killing shit, killing shit. What the fuck, I’m fighting the Grim Reaper? This is fucked up. I just ripped out his spine, and now I’m using it as a weapon? Fucking crazy.

Hey, they didn’t just ripoff God of War, they ripped off Gladiator. Here is Maximus…I mean Dante returning home. Oh hey his wife is dead, no shit. Wow, they show her dead and she has one titty hanging out? Flagrant nudity, even more than God of War. Nice. Impressive. Alright, more combat. Hey, his wife is laying on a tomb or some shit. Naked. Wow. And now they’re showing him copulating and shit in a new cartoon cinematic. Wow. And now I’m shooting laser crosses out of my hands.

Oh hey, a magic gauge. Like God of War.

Hey look, flying thingies, just like the harpies from God of War.

Boring platforming. Sliding down shit. Blah, blah blah.

Holy shit, Virgil! What’s up dude. How have you been? You look stupid.

Fighting, fighting, blah blah. Hey, now I’m riding some beast thing or something. Stomping around and shooting fire. It’s sort of like exactly completely when you ride the Cyclops in God of War. Smash smash smash.

Door opens. Demo ends.

I don’t know what I’ve started with my Bayonetta madness. But now people are finding us through “i wanna bury my face in bayonetta’s ass”. Is this an pinnacle, a nadir, or both?

A couple of weeks ago Pepsibones and I walked into our local comic shop. I hadn’t been in a long damn time, and it was great to step foot into it. I’ve always joked that Wednesday and the bushel of new comic book releases was the only therapy I needed; mind you it isn’t, but it makes me feel good. There is something invigorating about being swathed in a bunch of comics, cheesy stand-ups, and nerd t-shirts. Just shooting the shit with an awesomely jovial owner about a variety of things, and then marching home with a pack of new releases under my arm.

I hadn’t been in awhile though, and I had felt myself falling out of love with the same superheroes that I’d been following for fifteen years. I had Event Fatigue. I was burnt out on the endless Blackest Night and Dark Reign titles. I just wanted to pick up a comic book, have a well-crafted tale told by a favorite author of mine, and not be assaulted with an endless litany of crossovers and “continued in”-type shit.

In other words, I was fucked.

Pepsibones had been handling the comic book reconnaissance, but I felt a deep yearning in my nerdticles that day. I needed to return to my Mecca. Recharge my batteries. We walked in and I hit the owners with a guilty-ridden wave. I felt like I had neglected them. Did they fear I was cheating on them with another comic book store? Sticking my greendongs in someone else’s register? Christ, I hope they didn’t think that.

We walked over to the comic book rack, and I was hopeful, excited.

And then I saw the releases. I scanned the rack, scanned the rack, scanned the rack. There was nothing there. I was depressed, concerned. What the fuck was going on? I walked over to one of the owners, Dean.

Dean, dude, recommend something. Please, give me something to read.

Dean looked at me.

What do you mean? It’s a pretty big week. There’s tons of stuff over there!

I looked at him, incredulous. Was it really? All I saw was a cloister of bullshit. I sort of shrugged. Then he hit me.

Maybe you don’t like comic books anymore?

He was joking. Sort of. And then I began to panic. Did I hate comic books? Do I hate comic books? Have I finally fatigued of the endless carousel? Is this what happens when you become exhausted with countless deaths, rebirths, resurrections, status quo disruptions and subsequent old status quo installations? What the fuck was going on with me?

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The actors behind Battlestar Galactica’s Saul Tigh and Caprica Six are lending their fucking voices to Mass Effect 2. I’m going to lose my god damn mind.

One of the reasons I love Mass Effect so fucking much is that it allows me to dabble in the sort of universe that makes my nerd dong all salty with fluids. It’s like being able to run around the Battlestar Galactica or Star Wars universe. Calm down douchebags, I know it’s not an exact analog, but it’s close enough.

So, being able to hear their silky smooth and gruff voices respectively is putting me into a nerd froth. Also, the rest of   the voice acting list is pretty impressive too:

Via Kotaku:

We’ve got Tricia Helfer and Michael Hogan from Battlestar Galactica playing the voice of the new Normandy and Captain Bailey respectively. From NBC’s Chuck comes Yvonne Strahovski as genetically engineered Cerberus operative Miranda Lawson, joined by co-star Adam Baldwin, better known as Firefly’s Jayne Cobb, who’ll be taking on the role of Kal ‘Reegar. Marina Sirtis from the original Mass Effect taps out and fellow Star Trek: The Next Generation cast member Michael “Worf” Dorn taps in as Gatatog Uvenk. The Matrix’s Carrie-Anne Moss portrays Aria Y’Loak, the crime lord who rules the planet Omega. Finally we have Emmy-award winning House of Saddam star Shohreh Aghdashloo will play the role of Admiral Shala’Raan vas Tonbay.

And of course we can’t forget returning cast members Seth Green, who had some of the first game’s best lines as Normandy pilot Joker, and The Chronicles of Riddick’s Keith David, returning as Admiral David Anderson.

Shazam! I can’t wait.

I can’t stop thinking about Final Fantasy XIII. It’s a Final Fantasy. A fucking Final Fantasy! I have some peeps who tell me things like, “I gosh gee, I haven’t liked the last several installments!” During these times, I contemplate an intelligent, well-thought out response.

But then I’m like, meh.

So what I generally say is something like:

I’m sorry you have shitty taste. It’s also a shame that your Mom’s ass smells like rotten tuna, but that’s only because her blown-out, leaky vagina tends to drain into her ass crack. As well, I’m not typically pro-choice, but you seem like a prime candidate for abortion.

Then they continue all, “So yeah, I’m just not that excited about it. I mean, it’s not that I hate it it or anything, but just…”

Fuck you! Are you kidding me! It’s got like fucking monsters that transform into vehicles with guns and it’s got a dude who has a fucking CHOCOBO in his hair. I can’t even begin to comprehend why you wouldn’t be excited about this. Why are you lame?

“Ian, chill out man! I’m just not particularly excited for it.”

OH, I’M FUCKING SORRY! I THOUGHT YOU LIKED COOL THINGS?! WHY ARE WE FRIENDS?!

“Seriously dude, you’re frightening me!”

And you’re fucking dead! I swear on the seventeen cans of Pepsi Max that I’ve consumed in the last hour, I will absolutely dance in your blood! I will not relent until you’re a mush of organic matter splayed about a public place! I will revile your desecrated corpse with insults regarding your small and or smelly genitalia, depending on your gender!

And then they’re like “…I guess, I guess I do want to play it. I have to go. Don’t call me.”

Bruce Wayne is going to be done finger-painting on caveman walls with his own feces in 2010. Even more impressive than how they killed him off twice in 2008 is the fact that they’re going to return him to the functions of the regular DC Universe next year. It’s a bit disappointing, since I was really digging the implications of old Gray Son wearing the mask. It was fun watching him figuring out how to pull off his own identity underneath the crushing symbol, and learning how to wield said logo with his own swag.

Alas.

But we all knew Wayne was coming back. So the question becomes, how well can they write the return of the Original Traumatized Billionaire? I, for one, have a stiffy.

That’s fucking right, Grant Morrison is writing this shit! Woot, woot!

And apparently he’s going to play it calm this time, because the storyline seems pretty simple. Just kidding! We have some sort of temporal, mind-warping bullshit that only the guy who proclaimed he had been abducted by aliens could produce:

Via CBR:

Debuting in April 2010, the aptly named Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne finds the character — presumed dead after the events of Final Crisis but actually hurled into the far-flung past — attempting to reclaim his memory and his place in time.”Return is a fairly intricate time-travel story in which the world’s greatest hero, the optimum man, is up against the supreme challenge to his ingenuity and skill,” Morrison tells USA Today. “How does Batman get out of the ultimate trap? It has a mystery and an apocalyptic countdown going on, there are some major twists and reveals, and it sets up big changes to the Batman universe status quo.”

It sounds trippy, if not reminiscent of Brubaker’s take on bringing Steve Rogers back, which features him…also tumbling through time and space. And the big changes to the Batman universe status quo? Batman actually was the engineer behind the H1N1 flu…and AIDS…and Cancer.

Seriously.

I was pretty excited when Famitsu got all retarded and shit and gave Bayonetta a perfect score. I mean, I knew that in no way was it possible for the game to be perfect. But I giggled, and I laughed, and I wrote childish articles about it.

But then? THEN THOSE FUCKS GAVE FINAL FANTASY XIII A LESSER SCORE?!

Final Fantasy XIII: 39/40

Bayonetta: 40/40

Holy shit! This is unacceptable. I’m trying to stop myself from driving down to wherever they write Famitsu in Boston or whatever and giving them a piece of my fucking mind? What you say, it’s a Japan magazine!? Fuck you, holding me down!

Having played the Bayonetta demo, which resounds as pretty much Blah-yonetta: Devil May Climax, I’m a bit confused as to how the grading system works. Are there darts and blindfolds involved? Is it the ole Pick-Dat-Shit-Out-Dat-Hat method? I’m not saying that Final Fantasy XIII is perfect, though I mean c’mon it probably is, I’m just saying there’s no way it isn’t better than Devil May Have Tits And Glasses.

I feel so guilty, being compelled to slash against my love, my dearest Bayonetta. But even she cannot compare to the eternal, never ending buttcrush I’ll have on Final Fantasy and its slew of androgynous, sorta male, sorta female cast, who finally got me to realize, it’s okay if I am not really sure of my sexual boundaries, and I sure love casting spells.

So, I was Google Image Searching today under the term “Midol”. You see, I was being mature and wanted to insult a friend on a forum because I was teasing that he didn’t dig shit. So I implied he had his period! Get it?! I’m so witty. And then I found this advertisement. It’s amazing. Just bask in it. Drink that shit in. Not the placenta though. Run from that. Quickly.

Dead Space 2 is fucking coming. So strap on whatever brand of adult diaper you prefer, and get ready to shit your pants. The original Dead Space kicked my ass. It sort of fell into my life from nowhere, and left me amazed. The graphics were tight, the atmosphere was tense as fuck, and the storyline? Well, of course my lord and savior Warren Ellis contributed to it.

So the fact that there is a sequel coming has me amplified to the point of non-coherence. Which, I suppose, is how I am pretty much all the time:

Via Kotaku:

“We’re thrilled to jump back into the series, making the next chapter in Isaac’s journey,” added Steve Papoutsis, Executive Producer of Dead Space 2. “The infection continues to spread throughout space and our hero Isaac Clarke is the only person able to contain it. There are still loads of Necromorphs that need killing. In Dead Space 2, not everything is exactly as it seems. Expect plot twists that will surprise you and a huge cast of twisted, disgusting monsters that are sure to scare the daylights out of you.”

Pretty much a boring press release. Whatever! Give me fucking anti-gravity boots, my trusty plasma cutter, and let’s throw down. And by that I mean peer slowly around corners trying to prepare yourself for whatever is about to make you crap.