Looking at October’s comic releases, I realized that with Justice League of America #38 comes a new creative team. While writer James Robinson and artist Mark Bagley are hardly strangers to the DC Universe (or the members of its most prominent team), it will still be interesting to see whether or not they can make their run on the title meaningful – for one reason or another, I feel like most creators lose sight of the importance of telling well-balanced, team-oriented stories when given the JLA-reins.

In fact, I haven’t consistently read Justice League of America since the conclusion of Brad Meltzer’s brilliant thirteen-issue relaunch of the series. Meltzer knew how to guide his artists through stories of epic confrontation while still maintaining a down-to-earth, personal tone. To me, this is what the “big team” books should be all about: putting iconic figures in over-the-top, the end is nigh scenarios in order to depict struggles to which the normal guy can relate.

So as I conjured up this mission statement for super-team titles, I tried to think of another example of team-done-right. Rifling through Caffeine Powered’s library, I eventually stumbled across JLA #61. Only vaguely remembering this issue, I had to reread it a couple of times before deciding that it is another exemplar.

This 2002 book is a perfect beginning to the collaboration between writer Joe Kelly and penciller Doug Mahnke. [While Kelly led JLA through its ninetieth issue and then disappeared from my radar, Mahnke has been blowing my mind as of late. Check out his work on Green Lantern if you get the chance]. Plot-wise, the self-contained JLA #61 takes the reader through a giant battle that involves monsters, Gods, Abra Kadabra and even sees Kyle Rayner dissecting five miles of seaboard with his fruity-ring. In short — the book succeeds in creating a problem that requires seven of the all-time greatest superheroes.

But where the issue really shines is in its highlighting of each teammate as a relatable human being (or Martian/Kryptonian/Goddess — but you get my point). From the primary battle the narrative flashes back to the two-minute warning, that time in which the JLA alert signal rings out its warning.

Instead of Superman, the reader sees Clark Kent eating dinner with his wife; Green Lantern is unadorned artist Kyle Rayner, struggling to pay for a cup of coffee; in place of the Flash is Wally West, hyperactive multi-tasker desperately looking for another minute in the day; Martian Manhunter’s constantly linked mind is observed in one of its rare states of unconscious meditation; fanatical Bruce Wayne makes business calls as he helps Diana prepare for perfection, and the typically zany Plastic Man soberly fields a phone call at his office.

Hell, even the King of Atlantis’ vacated throne is seen as the JLA discuss the recently-departed Aquaman. This issue bleeds personality and heart, thereby making these otherwise inhuman characters worthwhile emotional investments.

No, I don’t expect every team-based comic book to contain the sentiment of Touched by an Angel. Nor would I want it to. But, it is nice to think that throwing together the most marketable properties into one franchise isn’t always done in the name of producing inane pieces of visual masturbation.

Unless, of course, you could convince Frank Miller and Jim Lee to work together. Oh wait.

But I guess we’ll have to wait until October to see what Robinson and Bagley bring us.

After the first two weeks of Brew Reviews, I’ve learned my lesson. As much as I want to celebrate my favorite season with alcohol, it appears as though the pumpkin-beers may not be my bag. Filling my brain with fermented pumpkin seemed like such a great idea on paper, but then again, so did making a fourth Die Hard. And we all know how that turned out.

So when I made the weekly visit to my local beer-retailer, I decided to turn my back on the seasonal beverages. Yes, it hurt my soul to walk past Sam Adams Octoberfest but I was on a mission. To the cooler I went, determined to get an alcoholic beverage that would actually taste good.

With some searching, I discovered a four-pack of Gonzo Imperial Porter from the peeps at Flying Dog. I picked it up for inspection and was blown away by the fact that it touted a Hunter S. Thompson quote — “Good people drink good beer.” Holy shit. As a fan of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and the Thompson-inspired Spider Jerusalem, I was sold.

Keep Reading »

Final Fantasy Tactics is up for download on the PSN. Final Fantasy Tactics is one of my favorite Final Fantasy games. When I first bought it, it broke me over its knee and left me for dead. Be gone, nub player it told me. And I nodded at it and left glumly. Years later I returned, a wizened young adult, ready to have his ass served to him repeatedly in the name of strategy. And by the end, with my legion of Monk/Ninjas, I was double-fist punching the shit out of every goon in my way. I still own my original copy, but if I didn’t, I would be on this like fanboys on Felecia Day.

Ah, Trish Stratus. I had forgotten about you. I had forgotten about all the hot summer nights I sat in front of the TV with a raging boner as you fought other WWF “divas” and strutted about all scandalous. It seems absurd now, but my hormonal teenage body couldn’t handle your generic bleach-blond hair and fake boobs. But then I grew up, and you slid, slid so far away from my mind. And now you’re back, with your own Wii game?

Via Destructoid:

Fitness model and former WWE actor Trish Stratus has teamed up with Frima Studio to develop a new yoga game for the Wii called Stratusphere. The game will make use of the Wii balance board and other Wii accessories in order to make it so you can do awesome things to yourself.

What is going on with this world?! And then Trish, I saw what you’ve done to yourself! Brown hair? Glasses? You know how to play us, Stratus! You’ve gone from cajoling the yokels and the teenage kids of the world with your fake boobs and your blond hair to manipulating us nerds with your sexy glasses and business suit! You’re vile! You’re evil! I love you. Again.

Recounting a great room mate story to a friend of mine. Yes it’s a true story:

He lived with a friend and me in an apartment. Hardly ever came out of his room for 6 months. Finally, he left and horrid stink was coming from his room. He had been gone for maybe 2 or 3 days now. We ventured in his room to find a debris field of tissues and dirty clothes. The smell got worse. We went into his bathroom to find that he dropped a deuce, the toilet overflowed, he attempted to plunge it, it got worse and more came out…after which he left and ran back to his parents house. Leaving us with the shit, literally.

Two bottles of bleach and many rubber gloves later, we cleaned this man-child’s mess up. The next day a phone call ensued:

Hey man.

Hey.

What’s with the shit you left?

The shit?

The shit, feces, dung that you left in your bathroom.

Oh, yeah…

I said yeah…your stuff needs to be out by the end of the week.

How the hell do you end up in your 20s and you leave poop, literal poop all over your bathroom and bail back to Mommy and Daddy? I would have helped the fool if he had asked. Instead, he left his bathroom the most disgusting mess I had ever seen and ran away.

He ran away. Let me reiterate this. He ran away from his own overflowing feces. Three men living in an apartment. He couldn’t ask either of us for help. He ran away. He ran away to his parents. It was so beyond the beyond.

It makes for a great story though!

Oh snap! BioShock 2 is dated! Dust off your copies of The Fountainhead, put your thinking cap on, and get ready for the sequel to what I consider the smartest video game of all time. The game is dated for February 9, 2010. I can’t wait. Did Bioshock need a sequel? No way. Am I concerned that they’re milking a sequel, especially since Ken Levine isn’t involved? Of course. Do I think a multiplayer mode is the dumbest shit ever? Certainly. But still, it’s a sequel to BioShock.

I’m ready to spend some time in Fort Frolic for real. Dated!

When I heard that the Brutal Legend demo was available to people who pre-ordered the game at Gamestop, I got my uncleansed ass to the store today. I threw down five dollars and giddily stared at the download bar as I penetrated my 360 hard drive with metal thunder.

God damn.

Brutal Legend looks to be a handjob to every metal geek like my friends and myself. I generally don’t play demos, since I like to keep things virgin. Like I was, for twenty-five years. But I couldn’t help it. Like Keanu Reeves in The Matrix, it seems like this is the shit Jack Black was born to play. The demo throws enough ridiculous shit at the metal head in fifteen minutes to leave them panting over their Anthrax collection. Swinging huge axes, the typical Hot Topic metal chick, and electrocuting people with a Flying V guitar.

All of this would be just another sloppy homage if it weren’t for the fact that the gameplay seems to deliver. Mastermind behind it Tim Schafer throws the kitchen sink at you. You have metal-Zelda gameplay, driving a god damn hotrod, and some Prince of Persia style teaming-up with said Hot Topic chick.

And then to close it off, they preview the rest of the game while blasting Three Inches of Blood’s song “Deadly Sinners”. What sort of homo would like a 3IOB song blaring while a trailer plays? Someone like me, who rocked out to them to the point that I named my WoW guild after them.

The line starts behind me to give Schafer a blow-job.

I played some more Scribblenauts today, and I’m continually impressed with this little game. It’s gone from something I hadn’t heard of, to something I bought my girlfriend because she likes puzzles, to something I can’t get out of my head. Scribblenauts is one of the more recent games where I actually found that failing is awesome.

Consider today. I’m trying to pick up some goddamn flowers for a chick. Whatever, okay, cool. It quickly becomes clear to me that one bouquet is underneath, straight chilling with a piranha.

It seems like it has a pretty simple solution to a meat head like me. I’ll conjure up a fucking bazooka, and teach that piranha about the dangers of explosive devices. Never mind the fact that I’m wondering why this chick wants these flowers that are absolutely soaked, and ruined by a flesh-devouring monster left over from the prehistoric days.

So I’m all, you know, get ready to feast on death, Mr. Piranha. I aim, I fire…I explode. I blow up a nearby tree, I blow up myself, and the piranha telepathically conveys me the finger.

Awesome.

Solving puzzles is awesome, and half the fun of Scribblenauts has been wondering what exactly will solve the problem. I’m sitting there, having to give a fireman (or is it firefighter or fireperson?) something he’d like to hold. I’m like, here dude, hold this oxygen mask.

He ain’t feeling it.

Really bro? You’re going to run into some flaming cauldron of asbestos and you want to suck wind? Curious. But I wasn’t pissed. I equipped the chap with an axe and apparently he was ready to play the hero. I found myself talking shit to him, even as I trashed object after object, but somehow it was fun. Thinking? Fun? Well played 5th Cell.

Yeah, brilliant idea, let’s teach robots to ask questions.

Via New Scientist:

ASKING someone for help is second nature for humans, and now it could help robots overcome one of the thorniest problems in artificial intelligence.

That’s the thinking behind a project at Willow Garage, a robotics company in Palo Alto, California. Researchers there are training a robot to ask humans to identify objects it doesn’t recognise. If successful, it could be an important step in developing machines capable of operating with consistent autonomy.

Consistent autonomy? Are you out of your fraking minds? Seriously. You’d think all these tech nerds that are pushing us closer and closer to the Great Robotic Uprising of Spring of 2020 would probably watch some sci-fi. I mean c’mon, you guys are building robots. You have to be geeks. Philip Kindred Dick is considerably aggravated with all of us.

Asking questions? It’s like seventeen years before some hot blonde chick is walking up to you and asking “Are you alive?” before robotrons bomb the cities and scorch the skies. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Fallout 3 is one of my favorite goddamn games of this generation. And unlike some people’s DLC (looking at you, Bioware), their episodic releases have been jack-worthy. If I was a Fallout 3 zealot and I only owned a PS3 I would have been pulling my hair out. Them DLCs have been 360 exclusive for a while now. But rejoice, PS3 Wastelanders:

Via Kotaku:

The first DLC to hit the PS3 version of Fallout 3 will be Broken Steel, available Sept. 24. That will be followed by Operation: Anchorage and The Pitt on Oct. 1, and Point Lookout and Mothership Zeta on Oct. 8.

Good lord they’re coming at you quickly. Prepare to take one off the tits. But seriously, with this release, the whole “360 has teh uber exclusives” argument continues to erode. Oh snap! It looks like PS3 just slapped the 360’s sandwich out of its hand.