If I had a choice between playing a new Xbox360 game and playing an all time classic like Streets of Rage 2, I would of course pick the Xbox360. When I got bored with that I would bust out my emulator, sync up with my brother Rick and play the hell out of some SoR2. Oh hell yes we would!
Streets of Rage 2 was by far the best and greatest, nay the pinnacle of the brawler “beat em up” style game. Double Dragon, the Ninja Turtles games, Bad Dudes – all the rancid dog-doodie on bottom of SoR2’s boots.
If you don’t believe me then it’s clear that you haven’t played this game. Yes it’s that good, so good that if you disagree then your opinion is literally wrong. Dealing with that kind of extremity is what playing this game is all about. Why only yesterday I was a mere lad and I stole this title from my friend, I somehow convinced him that he “lost it.” *snortle* Used to hook that bad boy up and play with my brother all through the night.
Now this is the best and most important part of the game. This is what makes the game most worthwhile, and why it’s a testament to Japanese perversion. Choose the character Blaze, the hot brunet with the great gravity defying rack. Make her do her cartwheel kick and pause just as her legs are at a 90 degree angle. UNDERWEAR!!!! Purty pink panties! Old Mary Jane Rotten-crotch! BOOYAH! Is what you would say if you were like 13, which I was at the time.
Now there is no reason for you to play this game.
Provided you were able to make it past the 1st level and all the panty-peekabooing, you were in for a lush beautiful 2D rendered world of punks, hookers, fat guys with chains, motorcycles from Beyond Thunderdome and Mr. X. The game progresses from left to right standard 2D side scrolling action, with the occasional diagonal right-down and an elevator scene or two. The colors are gorgeous and the characters look really defined for a 16 bit game.
Story-wise you’re out you rescue Adam, the black dude from SoR1. He’s been kidnapped by that rascal Mr. X. You got a couple friends to come along for the ball-breakery, including Adams kid brother Skate, and a gigantic wrestler named Max. You go from scene to scene kicking ass and chewing bubble gum, even though you’re ALL OUT OF BUBBLEGUM BABY! This game packs so much punch that in order to keep up with demand for ass kickery, Sega had to import cheap colons from Mexico. Unfortunately the colons were of such a sub-par quality from all the chipotle blood stains, they soon had to switch to Indian suppliers… much better quality even if they smell like curried goat.
If they made a video game version for that song “Old Time Rock N Roll” then it would be this game. If you are a 16 bit Sega aficionado this is a title that belongs in your collection.
You know why the video games of yesteryear are better than the games today? Simplicity. I find myself taking frequent breaks from the overly polished games of today to play my old Sega Genesis or NES. After all, why watch hours of rendered cut scenes in Resident Evil 5 or Rise of the Argonauts when I can jump on turtle shells, fall into never ending pits of doom or kill vampires in luscious 2D side scroll-ers? Games made more sense back then. They were simple – shoot bubbles at enemies, pop them, eat the crystals or cakes they drop and keep going until you rescue your sexy dragon-woman girlfriend. SO SEXY! Easy, right? Who wants to play a game where you are the dream of a dead race that might have existed inside of someone’s imagination? Is that plot confusing? That’s how I felt when I played Final Fantasy VIII.
You may be wondering what I am getting at, let me be direct – the games of today suck compared to my biased nostalgia of games like Mario 3, the Adventure of Link, and Bubble Bobble. And it is with love for those old time classics that I am going to pay tribute to one of the best RPG games I ever played: Sword of Vermillion.
*FANFARE*
I can clearly remember when I was 7 or 8 busting my ass, and possibly some child labor laws cutting grass, raking leaves, and shoveling snow to come up with enough dough to buy a Turbo Graphics 16 game system. I reeeeallllly wanted Bonks Adventure because the commercial was so awesome. My Nintendo Entertainment System while great and having well over 200 titles on my basement floor, was no longer cutting it. and the next generation of video gaming had begun, 16 bits! Well there we were, pops took me to the local Toy Works and I had 160 dollars. He said “What do you want?” At the time I couldn’t remember the name Bonk so I was trying to explain “The game with the guy with the giant head!” No one understood… oh the life of an introverted child.
What I ended up leaving with, very accidentally, was Sega Genesis. And how!
The 1st game I bought for it was Sword of Vermillion, the guy told me it was like the Legend of Zelda. In retrospect he should be tortured for lying to such a sweet young boy as I was. Be that as it may, the selection was quite limited, the Sega Genesis was still pretty new – they were still running the “Genesis DOES! What Ninten-don’t” ad campaign on TV and on the kiosk in the store.
Sword of Vermillion, how I love thee. How clever I thought I was naming my Character “Billya.” My name, in case you didn’t get it, is Billy… but when you’re 8 adding the “A” on there was a clever way of pretending my name could sound like it came from fantasy antiquity.
SoV was an awesome game and tough as shit for someone my age, not so much today. It’s an RPG of sorts that used a weird overhead mini-map system when moving around and had plenty of randomly spawning monsters. In battle it was kind of like the legend of Zelda in that it was real action, of course the similarities ended there. In the boss fights (masters as we called them a hold over from our days watching “Captain N and the Game Masters”) it was side scrolling real time action. There was no real strategy per say, but tell that to a kid who is struggling with his multiplication tables.
Father? NOOOOOOOOO!!!111oneone
The plot is this: Our adventurer Billya is called to his dying father (or so he thought) Blade. Blade tells you that your real father was King Erik of Excalibra. He and his long time friend and ally Tsarkon the King of Carpathia were collecting the 16
rings of the gods. 8 good and 8 evil. Of course, like the dumbshits they were, they started with the rings of evil first and wouldn’t you know it Tsarkon turned into a total douche, he killed Erik, crushed Excalibra and decided to go after the rest of the rings. To anyone paying attention you might be wondering if the rings of good would have made him become neutral. Well… they don’t. Anyway, Blade escapes with you apparently as a baby along with the Ring of Wisdom. (which is a ring of good). Blade tells you to go and get it from a cave and begin your quest of ruining Tsarkon’s shit.
Did I? Hell yeah I did. I busted some skeleton ass in that cave, got my ring and traveled on. You pretty much travel the mini map to different locations, each harder than the last. You go to a kingdom, meet a king and he either tries to kill you, send you on an errand or both. Eventually you get a ring of good from him. One king was a total cock though: The King of Swiftham, a dirty, greedy, bastard. If he represented a real life person I bet he would run a Cumberland Farms convenience store with 10 dollar potatoes and 2 dollar 8 oz sodas and be the only one open late the night before Thanksgiving. Well he makes you go to 3 separate caves to get 3 gems for him. 3! Eventually he gives up the ring not out of kindness though. I think a size 11 boot print on his ass did the job. In another town a little girl meets you on the road and you help her out. It turns out she is a giant 2 headed fire tossing demon. You own her ass like a total pimp and she gives you a spell book of healing. BONUS!
In time you make your way to Excalibra and meet an old dude who tells you more of the game’s back story, then fueled by the rage of some unknown guy killing the father you never met you go to Carpathia. There’s a hot princess who totally wants your package there so in my head I imagined getting it on with her before heading off to take on Tsarkon. He is in a cave, (Obviously) however his area is locked, and in order to get to him you have to fight EVERY boss you fought previously all over again to get their keys to gain access. *Facepalm*
In the final battle, like all evil weenies, he offers you his hand in partnership despite the fact that it’s crammed with 8 evil rings and he’s the guy who killed your daddy. You say “NO! NO YOU BEAST I WILL DESTROY YOU!” At least that’s what I was yelling at the TV. And take him on in mortal combat. 2 men enter, 1 man leaves! Guess who? ME. That’s right bitch! Then I traveled back to Carpathia for some sweet sweet loving in the tender hands of the princess. YES! The end! You are my hero!
Anyway, I still sneak off from World of Warcraft, Halo or whichever of today’s games to find solace of reliving the fantasy in the world of Sword of Vermillion. The game is easy by today’s standards, but goddamn what a sweet escape.
Brought forth from the pound, so full of virility and vigor.
Leaping, bounding and made to love the pack.
Loved and petted, fed and bathed.
Introduced to the new pups, love them, guard them, teach them.
Life had a purpose then, to show the way, to guard the pack.
To live with meaning.
I loved my home, my masters, my brothers.
Loyal to the end, fiercely protective, guardian.
Time passed and we lost touch with our meaning,
time passed and the pups grew.
The old loyal hound no longer required.
Ended his days alone, watching diligently from afar.
The pups breed pups, the old dog watched in pleasure.
Scorned for being who he was, when no longer required.
Tail between his legs, no family left to defend.
Where does he go?
No longer required, he let his sorrow grow.
“Where are you going?” Ma asks.
“I want to go check my snake traps” I say.
I love nature, there is nothing better than nature. I like to capture snakes, frogs, toads, turtles, stray cats, wounded birds, moles, anything really. Animals are the only thing worth trusting. I take care of them for a few days then I let them go somewhere safe with food. I love them they are my friends.
“Well don’t go too far.” She says it so nonchalantly as though an after thought.
I don’t reply, I am already walking down the street to my “Snake traps.” My snake trap was just a piece of plywood I left in a grassy field, after a week snakes would take up residence under it and I would lift it and catch them.
Halfway down the road, a tall blond man who looked to me like a circus clown because of the dark rings under his eyes and his flowing long blond hair calls me over to his home. I’ve never known anyone to be bad, so I go to him. He insists that he knows where there is a good spot to catch snakes and frogs. My eyes light up with amusement, Where?! He asks me to follow him and I obey.
“Come with me, you’re going to be so happy to see this place” He says smiling.
“OK but I have to go home soon.” I am starting to have a bad feeling.
“Oh its very close, right over there” He points to a grove of trees cropping out from the small forest behind the housing units we live in. I look back towards home, but how do I say no? I follow him into the grove of trees.
“Look over there” he instructs me in those bushes.
I begin to walk there and I feel him approach me from behind, I look inside the bushes and I feel his hand on my shoulder.
“keep looking” his breath is slow, I am suddenly becoming terrified.
My body begins to shake and quiver, I want to leave, I want to run now I want to RUN but his hand is on my shoulder squeezing. He asks me to turn around, I say nothing but I don’t turn. I feel him working his free hand through his pants undoing his belt. He is moaning, I begin to sob, tears roll down my small cheeks. Oh please someone help me… I’m crying, please someone help me. He pulls my shoulder back and I can feel his penis brush up against the nape of my neck, I feel him masturbating and rubbing his penis on the back of my head and neck.
I pull forward and say that I have to go, my mom wants me to come home for dinner. I feel guilty for some reason for lying, I know there is no dinner tonight. But I must go. He buttons his pants up and lets go of my shoulder I begin to walk away, wiping my burning eyes. He stands there watching me leave, he says nothing, then he says “I’m sorry”.
I get through the tree line and begin running as hard as I can home. When I get home mom is laying on the couch watching Soap operas sleeping, I go upstairs and climb into my bed, I decide I can never tell anyone about this, I feel so ashamed. I can never tell anyone about this.
Empty trees, hibernating in the winter season, bare and grim like a skeletons ribs. We once played in verdant lush summers, as a family BBQ, Mesquite, fires, s’mores, baseballs, bocci and laughter. All things draw to an end, including youthful daisy chains and the joy we once felt. But as I walked through the lawn, icy snow crunching under my boots I remembered a thousand memories of my loved ones living the life we were given and the steps we had taken. Gone to oblivion now, never to return until the next generation replaces us, but what have we lost? Is it so wrong to shed a tear for what will never again be? Tasseled hair, and fragrant lilac blooms gliding on a cool spring breeze, fathers garden, earthy and rich, the dirt flipped and prepared for the summers growing, peppers, tomatoes and basil. My brothers, my little brothers playing horseshoes and growing like grape vines, every day stronger, and larger. Once fitting in my hands like a baguette of fleshy tendrils and limbs. My heart deceives me and relieves me of fanciful logic, and the tears roll effortlessly for the loss I am mourning, of our youth and our family crumbling like yesterdays Halloween pumpkins, only to birth a patch of green herbs in its place. I’ve lost them all to time, and now home in my bed, fanciful and remorseful for being a weaker man, I cannot make end meet properly and tie up all the loose ends. This side of exile, meager and wanting, but prideful and painful. Self imposed and liberty prone, I cannot tie up all the loose ends. And so portion of my heart shed, I bury it here in my fathers garden, childish things I put to bed. Walking the colorless streets, the clouds swirl and blow angry stinging cold winds at my face, tears like dew dry and freeze to my skin, all is gone that I loved and now I am alone and looking for meaning. If not in the bottle or joint or writing or vagina then nowhere, life has not meaning, never had a meaning, childish things must be put to bed. Everyday I am learning, all my life I have only been pretending, living for what I was told and not appreciating what was in my hands. Taking these lessons in stride, offends me, it wounds my pride, and I turn towards bitterness but the feelings, the long standing feelings wash ashore in seas of lamentation.
I need your help! I have been writing an article for a while now on what it means in today’s society for men to meet the “Perfect woman”. What I need from all of you are answers.
1. In your opinion what is the perfect woman?
2. What traits would a perfect woman have?
3. Is perfection possible?
4. Have you met a perfect woman before?
If the word perfection bothers you substitute the phrase “the right woman”.
I want answers from everyone, WOMEN INCLUDED. Men, women, gays, lets see if we can garner some understanding about what the right/perfect woman is for men in today’s society.
You can answer on this post in the comment section OR email me your answers
I was sitting around the other day contemplating an undeniable fact. No not the fact that feminists are nothing short of worthless, not the fact that fat people need to eat less or that all people who drive SUV’s because its trendy should have hot coals shoved in their assholes… but the undeniable fact that no one can refute: ZOMBIES KICK ASS!
Think about it… Dracula? Pussy… he’s got a cheesy accent and got taken out by a group of pussy Englishmen… ENGLISHMEN!!! Frankenstein’s monster? ZZZZZZZZ he’s about 300 pounds of snooze. The wolf man? Give me a break any monster that has a bitch like Warren Zevon write a song about it is about as tough as a pack of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy fruit baskets knocking on your door…although now that I think about it, that could be pretty terrifying, at least until I dealt them a friendly shot gun blast to the chest.
Zombies on the other hand, you can shoot them in the balls, chop their heads off, shit on their face and they will still keep coming. Dracula cant even step to a horde of zombies, he tried but got his shit messed up, seriously he came at them wearing that sissy cape and talking about traveling oceans of time for love and a zombie just upped and bit the mother fuckers nipple off.
Sometimes I pray for a zombie invasion, well not an invasion just for the plague this way I would have a legal excuse to shoot EVERYONE. Guess who I wouldn’t shoot? No one! That’s right I’d shoot everyone. Especially midgets! There is a midget that works in the mall, I went there one day (bad idea!) to get a new DVD. He worked at Suncoast which is a movie store. After wielding my machete to slash through the isles of Nightmare Before Xmas merchandise and Al Pacino posters I found my way to the most under-represented section. Horror. I grabbed up Dawn of the Dead and brought it back to the counter. I was startled when a midget jumped up on a stool and began to ring me out… I was freaked out when he reached across the counter for the DVD from my hands but couldn’t reach, so I had to halfheartedly toss it across the massive 1 foot long gulch that his 9 inch arm couldn’t traverse. Then he hit me up for signing up for a movie plus card. Which is another way for corporations to track my purchases… being so unnerved at the sight of a midget trying to reach the cash register I signed away at whatever he threw in front of me. (I said threw because he couldn’t hand it to me.) I left the store feeling filthy and irked out… Midgets should NOT be allowed to work in the general public; they should be forced to work as circus performers or occasionally in coal chutes where they need a small body to fit down narrow crevices.
Anyway back to zombies, yeah totally if there was a zombie plague everyone can count on a friendly shotgun blast to the colon, no I’m not jokingly referring to shooting someone in the buttocks, I mean literally a double barrel 12 gauge power colonic with extra buckshot. Also I would thoroughly enjoy shooting a zombified Christina Aguelera in the face. Bohemian and Fat baby zombies will be held in special areas for sport shooting.
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