Advance Wars: Dual Strike: Steroids, or "A Review No One Will Read"

Seriously, though. How LARGE can a blue-haired man become before he explodes into a pile of human mush? Based on the amount of steroids he seems to be taking, I bet he can hit 70-plus home runs and not even break a sweat.

But damn, is he ever fun to play with.

Wait, nix that last part.

Advance Wars: Dual Strike is a dream come true -- I mean, what other game allows me to be able to play as teenage hipsters who can dress EXTREMELY well and can also save the world without any military training, whatsoever?

(Well, Final Fantasy VIII comes to mind, but that's another story.)

The DS sequel tops the GBA installments by adding more characters, more maps, more story-lines involving guns and wheelchairs, and more muscle on Max.

Are there any flaws? Well, Jake's music is too damn catchy, and when you face Colin and Sasha in a doubles match, they will never ever use their dual-strike power. And whenever Colin uses his regular power, his stats improve so much that he can sometimes (and more often than not) take out the mighty Kanbei. I thought Colin was supposed to be inexperienced?

Eh, maybe Kanbei is getting too old.

The game is faster paced than its predecessors as well. For example, have you actually ever gone back to the original Advance Wars and captured a city?

IT TAKES TOO FREAKING LONG!

There's a little lag in which the little soldier character animation stomps on the city and just sits there for a split-second, as if he's waiting for you to congratulate him on his virtual achievement.

The infantry units in AW2 seem to have gotten a little more recognition by the designers and have sped the hell up so as not to irritate me anymore.

And guess what? AW:DS' soldiers know they are appreciated and can capture a city without any hesitation. Heck, I can even have an infantry unit get blown up by an enemy Megatank on purpose, and a little text icon appears on screen that says, "Thank you, sir, may I have another?"

And it's because of this text bubble that I'm in the mood to give out a perfect score, just for the heck of it (even if I don't give scores, period).

Twilight Princess (2): The Gift of Hindsight, or "A Review No One Will Read"

It's been close to two years now since The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess was released on the Gamecube -- I, of course, being the son-of-a-bitch-bastard-purist that I am decided to go with a regular controller than play with the waggle-fest Wii-remote. (This may or may not have been a mistake now that I've played some of the Wii version; it controls pretty well and is a little more fun, but since I'm so used to the inverted Gamecube game, I spend most of the time accidentally running right into walls, expecting an open doorway to be there. Maybe my brain is just weak. Eh.)

When the game was first announced, I nearly crapped my pants, and for what seemed like ten long years, I waited with feverish anticipation. In hindsight, it seems rather hilarious -- imagine, an sixteen-year old kid, delusions of his own masculinity, star player on his high-school football team, giddy with excitement for a game named Twilight Princess. Doesn't exactly make you feel like a man. Neither does playing football, for that matter.

As a son-of-a-bitch-bastard-purist, passing up the Wii version (which arrived in stores first) in favor of the Gamecube version was the most difficult thing I've done (kind of sad, really). Yes, I took sneaky peeks before I got the game at whether or not Ganondorf was coming back (he was) and whether or not there would be any ice levels (I'm a sucker for snow and the obligatory snow-game-music [see: Metroid Prime], and yes, there were).

But most of all, I wanted to know whether Link would drown in a horrible flooding apocalypse, dying a tragic and heroic death trying to save the world.

I mean, because if that happened, I'd be convinced that my favorite video game series of all time would reach literary new heights.

It didn't.

Instead, it went in a different direction.

Hindsight is key here. When I first plugged in the game, I pretty much knew what I was going to get: same swordplay, same dungeon-crawling, same exploration. Really, this isn't a bad thing -- the swordplay was excellent, the dungeons were extremely clever (albeit easy), and with a massive world to uncover, the feeling of exploration was never better. The game was polished and refined beyond anything else on the market.

Each installment in the Zelda series, however, tries to do something unique, thus justifying its reason for existing at all. Of course, any game series main objective is to make money, but Zelda always has seemed to have larger aspirations than simply being a money-maker.

Which is why Twilight Princess seems foreign to me.

The game goes deeper than just a retread. Really, it desires solely to be an homage to the entire series, Ocarina of Time specifically. As such, Twilight Princess never does anything new or innovative or has any annoying talking hats (oh, wouldn't that have been GODLY!) -- and worse, it's completely conscious of both its actions and existence.

Believe me, despite what your inner nerd denies, this game has its problems. I had to literally pry the rose-tinted glasses off my face in order to see it, but this game is freaking tedious. I mean, the only reason I really endured those stupid bug quests was to get on to the better parts. It's like eating a bowl of Lucky Charms, where eating the okay-tasting cardboard-like oat-things first will only lead to the sweet savory taste of the marshmallows.

Twilight Princess gets better in its final acts, where it confirms the player's suspicions all along -- that this is the game you've been playing all these years, just in a different flavor and without all the talking hats (oh, how I WISH! Ezlo in 3D! My GOD. I'm drooling buckets.). Ganondorf is behind all of the events in the game, and Link saves the world. Again.

In the end, I guess I just wanted Twilight Princess to rise to literary greatness, instead remaining a mere video game. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Being a video game ain't half bad.

POST SCRIPT: I don't agree with the entirety of this review, but the author does make some good arguments about the subtleties of the game in general. Argh, but it makes my inner fanboy cry.

Twilight Princess (1): Logic, or "A Review No One Will Read"

Note: This was written a couple months after Twilight Princess was released to the public, and is not written with any hindsight. So, uh, this is not the entire truth about how I feel about the game -- but it doesn't matter because no one is reading this anyway.

Twilight Princess confounds me.

Yes, it's a brilliant game, and yes, it's right up there on my all time favorites list. You've heard this all before in countless reviews, about the fantastic graphics and wonderful gameplay and the forty-hour-plus quest. However, some complain about the Wiimote controls and the lack of originality.

To that, I say, "Screw you."

Twilight Princess has a much larger flaw: It is the only game in the series that obeys the rules of logic. Let me explain.

For instance, in all Zelda games, the protagonist, Link, travels around in a virtual playground, whether it be on foot or on hooves, searching for items that will help him progress further into the main quest. Over the course of the game, Link receives bows, hammers, magical capes, several tunics, etc., until eventually he reaches the final boss.

My question is, Where the hell does he keep all this stuff?

(Well, I can suspend my disbelief for this question. I'm having too much fun with the game to really care.)

But here is where Twilight Princess' biggest flaw comes into play, and where I begin to actually care about the game's logic:

If you're a completionist and likes to open every single treasure chest, this game really isn't for you. Say, for example, you're in a dungeon and you solve a puzzle, and suddenly there's a treasure chest that happens to appear right next to you. Obviously, you shriek with joy like a little girl and decide to see what lays inside.

Oh joy! It's an orange rupee! How lucky!

Wait, not so lucky. Your wallet is full. Better put it back!

Here is Twilight Princess' main flaw -- the game allows Link to carry an obviously heavy ball-and-chain weapon and some fifty-ton iron boots in virtual space...but it doesn't let you have enough room in your freaking wallet for another hundred rupees.

Therein lies my frustration. Thank god for the rupee-draining tunic that everyone complains about, so I can ACTUALLY pick up my hard-earned cash.

Great game, though. Especially when you can beat the final boss with a flick of a fishing rod.

Logical? Your call.

Halo 3: Heroism, or "A Review That No One Will Read"

As a typical American teenager who finds shooting English-speaking alien species more fun than completing a homework assignment, I fired up the game on a bright sunny day in late September, desperately hoping to discover the meaning of life behind the colorful graphics and booming soundtrack.

Believe me, I take my games seriously. When I pay sixty bucks for something that might or might not be related to my inevitable blindness, I damn well better have my "meaning of life" questions answered and my feet rubbed at the same time.

Instead, I found that I might or might not have a thing for holographic naked purple women. Not exactly life-changing material.

I've always argued that popular pieces of media, whether it be a controversial novel or movie, always have some sort of depth behind them; otherwise, they wouldn't be well-known among the population. I'm not talking about gameplay depth here -- more, I'm referring to what exactly Halo 3 says, and why the hell I cried at the end of the game in the first place.

Halo, it can be argued, is a lifeless (yet enjoyable) shooting simulation that has the player become a faceless superhuman in green armor that fights the thousands of grunting, similar-looking aliens in the galaxy. But that's beside the point. There's something about this concept that's so appealing to American audiences and not-so-appealing to the Japanese.

Do you want to be a hero? Sure you do. Who doesn't? If you got the chance to save a woman and her child from a burning building, you probably do it. When asked why you did it, you'd most likely state that it was the morally right thing to do, and that you just acted on instinct.

Good. The papers love that sort of thing, and you love it because you get your fifteen minutes of fame and are deemed a "hero". Eventually, the world turns, time passes, and the events are forgotten. You aren't a hero anymore, and you won't ever get that feeling of elation ever again (unless you constantly look for women in burning buildings...perv).

This is Halo 3: a hero simulator. Yes, you fight aliens and shoot stuff and it's tons of fun, but more importantly, you feel like a hero. You're living a virtual American dream.

That's what so saddening -- in essence, you aren't doing anything. You're sitting in front of a television screen, twiddling your thumbs, constantly cursing yourself for dying for the fortieth time, and not accomplishing anything.

When Master Chief states at the end of Halo 3, "Wake me...when you need me," he's directly speaking to the player; he's saying, "Whenever you feel like a jerkwad and don't want to do your history homework or don't want to go to work, I'm here for you...so you can feel like a hero. Just like you don't in real life."

And then it ends. As quickly as it began, our hunger kicks in and we want another Halo, and another and another. Microsoft will continue to spew them out, and we will continue to drool over our hero simulations.

And that's why I cried. Not because I'd never see the Chief again or because the [arguably] greatest shooter series ever was ending, but because I knew sitting in front of my TV wasn't doing anything. Thank goodness for Master Chief, a TRUE hero and also the creation of people who most likely aren't heroes, for informing me of this unpleasant information.

Oh well. It was good while it lasted.

Sometimes, You've Just Got to Nerd It Up

Obviously, this blog is written by a person who...blah, blah, blah.

Know what? You can finish that sentence however you want. It makes no difference to me. In any case, about a year ago, I started writing "reviews" on IGN about games I had finished, and I had hoped that people would read them. Sometimes, you've just got to nerd it up -- and that's what I'm going to do here. Unfortunately, no one read them, just like I had hoped. Or not hoped. Or whatever.

I'm sure blogspot (or whatever the hell it's called) is filled with video game reviews from people who -- I don't know -- just want to mimic the big boys. They want to share their thoughts on a game because they'd like to feel that people give a damn about what they say.

I, fortunately, know that people don't give a damn about what I say.

But I'd like to believe, son!

So, I'd like to share some reviews I wrote on IGN. Some are good, others are stupid, and the more recent ones I may or may not write in the future will hopefully change your life.

That's right. I said it. CHANGE YOUR LIFE. For the better, hopefully.

Oh, and if I know you personally (as in, a close friend of mine), just let me say this: "OH GOD PLEASE STOP READING I'M NOT AS BIG A NERD AS YOU THINK I AM!"

That is all.

Goddamn Biker Pigs!

Biker Pigs from Hell are dangerous. And mean. And not very nice.

Demonic beings such as they are, they can tempt anyone into joining their gang -- because to become a Biker Pig from Hell means that you evolve from a nobody into a somebody. You could be wandering the streets one day, diving into dumpsters for food and shelter, and the next, on a badass motorcycle, tearing through asphalt like a hot knife through butter (and/or other easily cut-through objects of easily cut-through constitution). I loved the Biker Pigs and always wanted to be one.

That is, until a Biker Pig stole my hamburger.

See, a hamburger technically does not consist of actual ham, per se. The meat is made from cows and not pigs. Anyone with a background in hamburger science would know such things and would not be angered by the fact that a person would eat one (unless you were Hindu, but that's a different story).

I was eating my hamburger, and...actually, I don't even want to continue the story.

THE END

So...Enough of That

Yeah...Wildernet.com. I kinda sorta used to work for this EXCELLENT OUTDOORS WEBSITE and then kinda sorta got fired/quit. The only positive thing I can say about the whole experience is that I was able to work with some good friends and pretty much worked whenever I wanted. But...it's not like you, the reader, care. At the end of the day, though, I decided to start writing on this thing again just for the heck of it and maybe improve some of my writing skills. Just like everyone else. Hooray for originality.

Since nobody in their right mind will want to read this, and because I'm desperately clinging to the hope that people will, I'm going to pretend that I actually have readers who give a damn. Thanks in advance, I guess.

In an attempt to be funny, I'll probably try to inject humor into my writing, but most likely, it won't be funny at all -- it will only try to be funny. So, if you find humor that tries to be funny more amusing than humor that is actually funny, then by all means, keep reading.

Who am I kidding, though?

No one will read this anyway.

There was this video I saw on Youtube about a man trying to eat a fish while an omnipresent voice continuously shouted questions at him, and every time the man tried to take a bite of the fish, it was pulled away by some fishing line tied to its tail (or something). When I searched for it, I couldn't find it, so I'm guessing this means that I'll only find it when I don't want to find it. The video may or may not be a metaphor for my life so far.

Ah...here it is: What's Your Problem?

About this blog's title: on a building before the second level of the video game Double Dragon II, it has the phrase "Go for broak" plastered on the side. My dad and I always used to play the hell out of this game, and he'd always repeat this phrase before the start of the level. Anyway, you have to jump this chasm between two buildings at the beginning of stage 2, and awaiting you at the bottom are two bad guys. Now, more than likely you're going to make the leap of faith and spin-kick the crap out of these sorry-sons-of-bitches -- but sometimes, you're not so lucky. These enemies, they sometimes have this little backup animation before they jump-kick they crap out of your face and send you plummeting to your doom.

This, of course, will undoubtedly cause furious anger to boil up inside.

But, that's the point of the "Go for broak" -- take the leap of faith and wager it all -- and in all probability, you'll come up smiling and smelling of roses. Sometimes, you'll get a kick to the face. Such is life.

I've tried to live by this "Go for broak" and nothing has really come of it so far -- then again, I haven't tried that hard in the first place. Maybe this blog will help me find some answers. Maybe it won't.

But, hey, thanks for reading...if you did indeed read this. This is for you:

Just like in Kindergarten!