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16.4.11
Surf lifesaving. Tug of War. Air hockey. Korfball. Gliding. Bowling. Ballooning. Skijoring. Curling. Bavarian Curling. Saharan Curling. La Canne. Dumbbells. Underwater Hockey. Roller Hockey. Steveball. Weight training. Pelota. Floorball. Wushu. Ultimate Frisbee. Billiards. Orienteering. Longue paume. Icelandic Folk Wrestling. Boomerang Golf.
All but five of these sports[1] have been officially demonstrated, recognised, or played in the Olympic Games. Some of you may be asking yourself the same question that pestered my conscience after skimming that list.
...what...
...in the name of all that is holy...
...is Korfball? And how the hell did it make it into the Olympics?!?!
In a world in which 'Korfball' can ascend to the Valhalla of competition, Super Smash Bros. Brawl deserves a chance to show off its prowess as a conduit for intense competition on an international stage. It is my firm belief that the Olympic Committee should hear my proposition and accept Smash as the twenty-seventh Olympic summer sport.
This will never, ever happen. But here's why it should.
Stirring, inspirational theme music.
8: An Olympics in an Olympics...
By adding Snake and Sonic, Smash became something of a 'gaming Olympics' itself, welcoming two of the best-known gaming celebrities into its ring without asking to see their Nintendo ID card. By bringing a game that celebrates the unity of competition into a worldwide event that celebrates the unity of competition, it will either:
a) Have baked the most delicious double-layer cake of global fraternity the world has ever seen
or...
b) Create a paradox that will EAT THE UNIVERSE.
or...
b) Create a paradox that will EAT THE UNIVERSE.
...I feel the benefits outweigh the risks.
7: Armani? Take notes.
If you thought Michael Phelps' Gucci Tangerine Speedo[2] had the critics talking, just wait until you unlock the Pandora's Box of steampunk, cyberpunk, togapunk-wearing gamer-athletes sporting tabards inspired by lifetimes of social ostracisation and cosplay-induced creative independence. If you thought the 1970s Denver Broncos looked... interesting, then hold onto your armchair with a kung-fu grip when the Donkey Kong Solo Match Gold Medal winner steps up to the podium donning this.
6: Summer, Winter... we game all year round
So the Summer Olympics are full? No problem. Gamers will game regardless of wind, rain, sleet, snow, attack dogs, or nuclear/zombie apocalypse. Plus, making Smash a Winter Olympic event has an added bonus...
Smash on Ice.
5: The Dollars Make Sense
Gamers are a huge, largely untapped demographic in the eyes of the athletic world. It doesn't take a grand marketing poobah to divine that adding nerdier events to the Olympics would increase its viewership by a quantum leap. More viewers means more advertising attention, which leads to more Olympic exposure across the globe.
4: Do it for Japan
C'mon, these guys just went through a nuclear meltdown and a record-breaking earthquake. Things were so unluckily terrible for Japan this spring that, by late March, I wouldn't have been surprised if I'd turned on my car radio to hear from BBC News that Tokyo had been hit by a comet filled with alien smallpox. Doing a Japanese company like Nintendo the immense honour of bringing one of its products to the greatest athletic tournament on the planet is just the sort of pick-me-up our now-radioactive Asian brethren need to jump-start their spirits.
3: It's this or Starcraft
If you're planning on putting a game in the Olympics, your options are: violence, fantasy violence, space violence, anti-German violence, violence aimed at innocent testicles, steroid and chainsaw violence, Team America violence, Dance Dance Revolution violence, and Smash[3].
Which do you think the Olympic Committee would sooner go for: a silly little game where an electric rat donning a headband calls down a bolt of thunder that vaults a gorilla wearing a tie into the deep reaches of space, or one where a narrator compliments you for shooting a man in the face? A man with a family.
And maybe it's just me, but after three minutes of watching other people Starcraft I find myself... bored. Sorry South Korea, but Smash is a better spectator sport.
2: Painless to implement
Individual matches. Team brawls. Tier separation. All-giant metallic King Dedede matches on Final Destination. 300%-damage-at-start, Captain Falcon 4x4 brawls, with Bob-ombs at a "very high" drop rate. Pokemon-only battles, with Pokeballs raining from the sky. Home-run and football sport-themed matches. The list goes on.
Imagine: 'Smith, America (Captain Falcon) vs. Park, People's Democratic Republic of Korea (Kirby)', or 'Canada (Lucas/Samus) vs. South Africa (Peach/Toon Link)'. Like gymnastics, swimming or figure Skating, Smash has the potential for as many events as the Olympic Committee would want to provide.
But if that isn't enough, how about allowing dedicated team competitors whose entire purpose revolves around psyching out their opponents. Try concentrating on a match for the gold medal when some idiot from Switzerland keeps hovering, barely a foot away, doing this.
1: Greater minds, softer bodies
The real beauty of this game is anyone can play... Any normal Joe can be a sports hero! Haven't you ever wanted to be a sports hero?
- Basketball
The Olympics are terrific, but they'd benefit from a few cerebral events to test not just the brawn, but also the brains of the world. Chess, for example, is an recognised sport in the eyes of the International Olympic Committee, though it has yet to make its first Olympic berth. Toss an intellectual challenge like chess or Smash out there for the nerds of the world, and the Olympics will quickly find themselves tapping into a demographic traditionally uninterested in its focus on athletics.
Anyone who has taken the time to watch The King of Kong (a surprisingly heartwarming documentary about a man's quest for the world record high score on the original Donkey Kong Arcade) knows that people will put in the same blood, sweat and tears on a screen, that organised athletics will in competition. Give these and millions of other closeted competitors a laureled goal to train for, and they'll come out of the woodwork.
It'd be good for Olympic business, and it would sear jock and nerd together in brotherhood under the flame of competition. Isn't that spirit of unity what the Olympics is all about?
...Korfball... *shakes fist at sunset*
Footnotes
[1] - Guess which five in the comments section and I'll mail you ...umm... a shiny American quarter. ...and this half-eaten rubber band.^[2] - Never happened.^
[3] - Also described as 'cartoony violence'.^
Labels: 2011, Feature, Olympics, State of the Union, Super Smash Bros, Super Smash Bros. Brawl
- Greg Mengel
"If Michael Vick was sent to prison, Ash Ketchum should be in fucking jail."
These words, slurred in my direction by an inebriated forty year-old Asian woman at a suburbanised, Mexican-themed bar in Denver, Colorado[1] last autumn have echoed in the hollow halls of my consciousness like a never-ending game of morality pong. After hours of sleepless nights, they brought me to one conclusion.
Ash Ketchum isn't just a dog-fighter... he's a slave owner.
For those of you not living in America, Michael Vick is an American Football player, who was sentenced to hard time for running an advanced dog-fighting ring. He bought man's best friend, trained and bred him, and charged him into a pit containing a similarly historied canine to do battle. For forging a pack of cuddly, fun-loving Growlithes into a bloodthirsty, dangerous Arcanine death-legion, he was rebuked with hard time in jail by a system of law that deemed such actions immoral.
Image source. Thanks again, YTMND.
Cut to the society Ash Ketchum lives in. Not only does it tolerate animal fighting rings, but it encourages them! Upon turning eleven, alpha children are given their very first Pokémon, the largest building and cultural center of every town and city is its gym, and Pokémon Balls are handed out by the state alongside propaganda pamphlets encouraging impressionable younglings to "Catch 'em all". On resorts and beach cabanas, lei'd Pokémon clean up party vomit and serve fruity beverages. The cultural foundation that Ash runs excitedly from gym to gym on, is composed of forced Pokémon labour.
So when Ash orders his electric rat to give a trembling Geodude its fifth concussion in a week, he isn't cuffed and taken down to the station; instead, he's congratulated and given a merit badge. For doing what Michael Vick was sent to prison for - training beasts to savage each other in a ring - Ash is celebrated.
...but are Pokémon really just beasts?
On the left, Chess Grand Master Bobby Fischer. On the right, fiercely fu-manchu'd Alakazam. To match Alakazam's IQ, Bobby Fischer's must be multiplied twenty-nine times.
According to Bulbapedia, the mysterious psychic Pokémon Alakazam boasts "...an IQ (Intelligence Quotient) that exceeds 5,000, making it the most intelligent non-legendary Pokémon."
Five. Thousand. Know what the average human IQ is? Between 70 and 130. Alakazam is a god.
Middle-class Pokémon also impress. Chansey works as a Registered Nurse in just about every Pokemon Center, a task that takes two to four years of academic study for humans and requires an advanced understanding of over six-hundred and forty-nine unique Pokémon anatomies.
Squirtle and Pikachu show impressive social and cognitive thinking skills. Despite the fact that they have evolved without advanced vocal chords, both Pokémon can convey their thoughts and desires in conversation by expertly inflecting their voices while repeating their own names, like so:
Trainer: "Are you feeling okay, Squirtle?"
Squirtle: "...squirtle."
Trainer: "Would a caramel apple make you feel better?"
Squirtle: "sQUIRTLE sQUIRT!!"
Trainer: "I knew it would. Hey, Squirtle, how do you feel about Muammar Gaddafi's supposed 'reign of terror' in Libya? Should Obama be supporting his European allies on what many have called yet another act of imperialist aggression towards the Muslim world, while he still has troops stationed in Afghanistan?"
Pikachu: "PikAAAAAAA, pi! PI!"
Trainer: "That's why I didn't ask you, Pikachu! Because you're a racist! A dirty, Canadian racist! Go on, Squirtle."
Squirtle: "Squirtle squirtle sQUIR, squir Squirtle squirtle squirtle, squir Squirtle squir. Squirtle-squir squirtle, squir squirtle sQUIRtle squirtle Squir, squir sQUIRTLE... SQUIRTLE-SQUIRT!!"
Trainer: "Squirtle, that was completely unrelated, and you know it. Muammar Gaddafi's reign of terror has nothing to do with the growing GDPs of many South American countries."
Squirtle: "Squirtle SQUIR SQUIR Squirtle-Squirt."
Trainer: "I disagree with what you have to say, Squirtle, but I'll fight to the death for your right to say it."
Squirtle: "Squirtle squirtle squirtle......."
Trainer: "What about my mother?!"
Squirtle: "SQUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIR."
Trainer: "Wow, somebody wants their Pokéball extra cold and scary tonight."
Squirtle: "Squirtle squir."
Trainer: "Agreed. Let's end this conversation so Greg can continue his article."
Pikachu: "Pikaa-"
Trainer: "Pikachu, I swear to God, I will feed you to Charizard if you don't shut up. Let's go."
[fin]
Ahem.
Oh, Ash! What a great day! I just love it when I don't have to beat Staryu with the Obedience Hose!
Pokemon are many, many times more intelligent than Michael Vick's dogs. If you judge the worth of a species by its intelligence, then many Pokémon are just as worthy as humans (if not more so).
...and yet, Ash and thousands of other trainers enslave, train, and fight them.
...and yet, they enjoy no basic rights.
...and yet, they can't vote to abolish their suffering.
If it walks like a Psyduck, and talks like a Psyduck, then it's a Psyduck. Pokémon training is slavery.
Enter Pokemon Black & White's newest antagonists: Team Plasma, led by their infamous terrorist-king, N. As a child, N was forced by his father to live in a habitat of abused Pokémon, where he learned to despise humans. As he grew up, N felt that it was his moral obligation to liberate all Pokémon from the shackles placed on them by a society of trainers, vowing to fulfill the Unova legend of a human who fought side-by-side with legendary Pokémon to end... this.
Once N reached adulthood, a mysterious man named Ghetsis sought him out and, struck by his strength and determination, crowned him king of his terrorist Pokémon-liberation front, Team Plasma. With a veritable army of liberators under his command, N began a series of swift and effective attacks against the Pokémon training society, stealing trainers' Pokémon and using them to set hordes and hordes of other Pokémon free. It's during this campaign of Pokémon-pilfering that N meets your character.
As a strong-willed Pokémon abolitionist willing to do whatever it takes to end Pokemon enslavement, N is an incarnation of John Brown, the 19th century revolutionary abolitionist who answered the question of American slavery, with a response he knew would attract the long gaze of the public eye: violence.
John Brown, circa 1856. Unanimously voted South Carolina's "person we'd most like to get a flat tyre" in 1859.
I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood. I had, as I now think, vainly flattered myself that without very much bloodshed it might be done.
- John Brown, written on the day of his death
John Brown's raids into pro-slavery lands sent the South into a panic. When the soon-to-be-made-a-state territory of Kansas was overrun by an armed Southern militia, John Brown led his own band of fanatical ideologists into the region, cornered the leaders of the opposing group, and hacked several of them to death at swordpoint. But that wasn't enough for Mr. Brown. In 1859, he led yet another raid into Southern territory, this time assaulting the nation's federal arsenal in hopes that he could lead a slave revolt, divvy out the weapons he found, and cut through the South with an army of freed slaves. His plan failed, and he was executed, but it became a crying call of the imminent American Civil War.
In Black & White, your character represents the South during the Bleeding of Kansas. Apparently[2], he runs into both Team Plasma and N every time you turn a street corner to buy a corn dog[3]. Each time you face N, he unleashes a different set of Pokémon to take on your group. We can assume that this is because
a) he's setting his old sets free after every battle out of guilt for using them to fight in the first place, or...
b) he's somehow convinced the Pokemon he frees to join his fight. After all, he's fighting for their freedom.
b) he's somehow convinced the Pokemon he frees to join his fight. After all, he's fighting for their freedom.
Unfortunately for N, your pro-slavery dream team of minions stomp his Pokémon to the curb time and again, just as the South did against John Brown.
Though he won a few minor skirmishes, John Brown's armed abolitionist revolution was largely symbolic; concretely, it changed nothing. Slaves continued slaving. Slave owners continued owning. But it did plant yet another seed of doubt in the mind of the American nation... was it possible for two sides to stay united when they routinely shot each other over a single issue? Was owning and controlling human beings a cause worth fighting - even dying - for? Was the participation of their ancestors in the trans-Atlantic triangular slave trade immoral, as it gave European slavers a reason to forcefully enter West African villages and "Catch 'em all?"
"Four-score and seven years ago, our forefathers used black magic to encapsulate a fire-breathing dinosaur pup in a metallic spheroid..."
The Pokémon series, like the American Civil War, is a play on human morality. What was fun when I was twelve - catching, parenting, and having adventures with all the pets I could dream of - suddenly seems wrong. Pre-bellum Southerners who cared and provided for their slaves often felt as though they were giving their "property" a better life than was offered by a harsh, free world, just as I felt that the training and care I offered my Pokémon was a better fate than they would meet fending for themselves in the wild. If I had come into contact with Team Plasma during those days, it might have inspired me to think on the deeper questions of ownership, morality, and human rights. I sincerely hope that kids playing Black & White find themselves contemplating those subjects after their umpteenth run-in with Team Plasma and N.
Many playing Black & White have stated that they feel as if their character is the antagonist. That's understandable, but I don't believe it's the point of Team Plasma's inclusion. As I stated in an earlier footnote, I haven't played Pokemon White, nor Black. My history with the series ends with the now-long-forgotten Pokémon: Yellow. That said, I find the existence of Team Plasma, who may be considered terrorists by some Pokémon fans and crusaders by others, to be utterly praiseworthy. At its core, Pokémon is a light, fun stage for human morality. By adding N and bringing his philosophy of Pokémon liberation into the forefront of Pokémania, Nintendo has added another foot or two of depth to what is otherwise a shallow philosophical pool.
I'll say this now so as not to feed the trolls: people playing Pokémon are not subconsciously hoping that the South will rise again. They are not harbouring secret wishes to become slave-owners. They have never conspired to kill Abraham Lincoln. They are simply enjoying the innocent setting and engaging gameplay of a charming, lighthearted series that has captured the hearts of millions since its inception over a decade ago.
Gotta love Team Plasma. Gotta love Pokemon. Gotta catch 'em all.
Footnotes
[1] No, it was not Casa Bonita. Yes, Casa Bonita really exists. To sum it up: bad food and chiseled cliff divers.^[2] Rather than spending hard earned money to stimulate our economy, I'm watching a friend play the game over his proverbial shoulder. Many thanks, Joseph Josephiah Jehosephat Gunselman III.^
[3] Not a real expression.^
Labels: 2011, Black, DS, Greg Mengel, History, Nintendo, Pokemon, Retro, State of the Union, The Pokemon Company, White
- Greg Mengel
Cinema is riddled with memorable, easy-to-loathe villains. For over a century, film history has left a trail of brilliantly nefarious antagonists - characters so thoroughly evil that it's not uncommon for audiences to stand up and applaud when their comeuppance finally comes. Cruella de Vil. T-1000. The Joker. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, easily come to mind.
Think it's going to be easy for video game villains to catch up? Hello? HELLO?! Anybody home?! Think, McFly! Think!
Though its antagonist gallery boasts a few burgeoning stars, the video game industry has a long way to go before it can match the dream team of scoundrels, miscreants and tyrants found in over a century of film. To close the gap and ascend into antagonist Valhalla, video game villains need a coach.
Enter Biff Tannen. Music.
Simultaneously one of the most loved and hated film baddies of all time, Biff represents some of the best qualities of a Grade A jerkwad antagonist yet caught on film. He's callous, he's egotistical, he's belligerent, and people the globe over love to hate him in large doses.
Buckle up, buttheads, and enjoy a free guided tour through seven of the graduation requirements at the scenic Villain University, compliments of Professor Tannen.
7: Pick a loyal posse
Don't knock the 3D glasses. They're prescription. ...and is that Billy Zane?!
Few matters are as important to a nefarious villain as the selection and cultivation of choice goons. Do you want them smart? Do you want them dumb? Should they be outspoken, or should you have their tongues removed to ensure that they won't squeal under pressure? Decisions, decisions.
On one aspect of the perfect henchman, however, all can agree: loyalty.
Few antagonists boast cronies as devout as Biff's entourage. Without a moment's hesitation they blindly follow their leader into righteous battle against skateboarders, gunslingers, and manure trucks. These guys are dying to break the laws of both society and fashion for their ruthless boss.
Villain who could use this lesson: Darth Vader [1]
C'mon, Stormtroopers... You were cloned for this. Cloned. And yet twenty of you can't score a single hit on Han Solo, despite the fact he's wearing black trousers in a white hallway. You need to start earning that health insurance you use so frequently.
Villain who could teach this lesson: Giovanni
Jesse and James love working for Team Rocket so much, that they wrote a poem about it. Is that loyalty, or teenage puppy crushing? Either way, they'd capture a hundred Pikachus just for an approving smile from Pokemon's Godfather.
6: Antagonise your opponents
There's no better way to chisel away at a rival's defenses than to douse him with a waterfall of insults from the riot hose of verbal abuse. A wise man may shy away from battle. But once you find that special word that grates at their being?
Then it's dancing time. Vaya con dios, friend.
Villain who could use this lesson: Donkey Kong
Endless levels, and he only lets a stream of barrels do his talking. A verbal taunt or two would have been nice.
Villain who could teach this lesson: Dutch
Words are needles. They don't cause much damage... until applied to the right areas, in rapid sequence. Warning: that link is as spoiler as it gets.
5: Laugh in the face of new technology
So, your enemy invents a new piece of transportation before your eyes, and looks more natural riding it than Robin Hood does holding a bow. Do you pause, even for a second, to calculate how best to tackle this new threat?
Hell no. Neither does Biff.
When Marty breaks out a skateboard, Biff charges at him like a bull at a red silk scarf. When that doesn't work, he chases him with a car. This blatant disregard for higher technology in battle reminds me of the Ethiopians fighting off the Italians just before World War II. Armed with spears, and riding horses, this poor African mob very nearly pushed back an encroaching army of rifled infantry, bombers, and tanks. Sometimes all it takes is guts.
Villain who could use this lesson: Ganondorf
So you don't have the complete Triforce. Do you really need it to conquer Hyrule? Really? Genghis Khan created the largest land empire ever seen, and he did it entirely without your magical ability to turn into a titanic three story pig monster.
Villain who could teach this lesson: Arthas
When the Horde and Alliance march on Icecrown, they do it with airships, powder, and guns. They're nearly annihilated more than once by the claws, blades, and cold hunger of several hundred thousand charging, technologically-uninclined undead.
4. Find your own Gray's Sports Almanac
"I wish I could go back to the beginning of the season, put some money on the Cubbies!"
Biff is to the Gray's Sports Almanac as Sauron is to the One Ring. It is the secret hen that lays him his golden eggs, and with it he becomes more powerful than anyone could possibly imagine.
It's not always possible, but finding and securing a gem like this can double or even triple a villain's power. There isn't an antagonist around who doesn't become exponentially more frightening with a secret weapon which can tip the balance of nature in a way that fundamentally alters the course of the future (see lesson number one).
Villain who could use this lesson: GlaDOS
When you have an ultra-secret weapon, like the Portal Gun, you don't give it to a disgruntled inmate you've been holding in solitary confinement. That person will use it both for science and vengeance.
Villain who could teach this lesson: Kefka
Without magicite this clown would still be getting harassed at birthday parties.
3. Teach your kids everything you know
Nurture or nature?
Every Biff we encounter, from grandaddy Buford 'Mad Dog' Tannen to grandson Griff 'Speaks-like-a-young-William-Shatner-on-meth' Tannen, is basically the same guy. There are unique quirks to each of them, but it's clear that a whole bushel of apples has fallen very close to the tree. Genetics may have something to do with this phenomenon, but I personally think it has to do more with a pattern of reliable parenting.
Villain who could use this lesson: Dracula
The Lord of Darkness has one son, Alucard; just one heir to instil with his hopes and dreams of a darker tomorrow. Does the prodigal son embrace his Gothic inheritance? Nope. On the contrary, he leaves the castle in a huff and joins Trevor Belmont and the God Squad. Ouch.
Villain who could teach this lesson: Bowser
Bowser Jr. wants to grow up to be just like his dad, and everybody knows it. This little guy is harassing Mario with bombs from the Bowser Balloon while he's still in nappies! Talk about your good start.
2. Confidence, butthead!
Nothing puts the raw, unapologetically brazen confidence of Biff Tannen on display like a conversation with himself.
Spend one minute with Biff and you'll know that he wouldn't pull a single well-groomed, 50s-styled hair for you. This is vitally important for any aspiring villain to learn, because a villain without confidence is about as easy to topple as a skyscraper without a foundation.
Villain who could use this lesson: The Origami Killer
Does a serial killer who reaches out to the friends and loved ones of his victims for emotional closure sound overly confident to you? Me neither. The Origami Killer has a lot of psychological loose ends that he needs to tie up before he can unlock his potential as an philosophically-unshakable homicidal maniac (see: Charlie Manson).
Villain who could teach this lesson: The Flood
When you're an ancient race of hungering alien parasites locked away in the deep places of the galaxy, there's really no reason to care what people think of you. If you did, you'd probably just end up feeling self-conscious.
1. Mould the world in your image
Biff's 1985 [2]. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.
Few locations have been stamped with the personality of their leader like Biff Tannen's alternate-timeline 1985 Hill Valley. This is what a Gray's Sports Almanac can do: create a unique brand of villain recognisable throughout the world.
King K. Rool had the Gangplank Galleon. Liquid Snake had Shadow Moses Island. Louis XIV had the Palace of Versailles. A man's personality, good or evil, is best represented by his castle.
Villain who could use this lesson: Carmen Sandiego
By avoiding customs agents like some sort of international ninja, Carmen deliberately avoids keeping a home base. But what good does that do her? She needs some sort of Fortress of Solitude where she can stash her stolen artifacts, or at least buy some furniture with all the money she gets by selling them on eBay.
Villain who could teach this lesson: Deathwing
Say what you want about his sheer lack of character development - this angsty, angry dragon took an Azeroth that Bambi would love, and remodelled 90% of it using fire into a craggy, molten wasteland that a cockroach wouldn't call home.
In conclusion... this. Over and out.
Footnotes
[1] Vader from LucasArts video games - not the films.[^][2] Often confused with present-day Detroit.[^]
Labels: 2011, Columns, Greg Mengel, State of the Union
- Greg Mengel
World of Warcraft astounds me. It’s a miracle. It’s a drug. It’s a life-wrecker. In the last five years, WoW has evolved from a simple but impressive MMO cocoon into the fire-breathing, Tokyo-wrecking Mothra that now enlists over twelve million faithful subscribers, from whom it reaps a harvest of over one hundred million dollars every month.
Put simply, this game is the Beatles on crack, with Jesus replacing Ringo as drummer. Everyone knows it’s big. With a third expansion, Cataclysm, set to be dropped like a capitalist hydrogen bomb smack-bang in the middle of the holiday season, the franchise is about to swell to even more epic proportions.
As a chronic Blizzardian and sometimes-denizen of Azeroth, I want to herald this momentous occasion by recollecting why, over the last half-decade, both myself and my brethren have systematically joined, left, rejoined, and releft, this game. Here are ten reasons why I did both.
The Top Ten Reasons People Play
10: Gnome Warriors
Imagine Bilbo Baggins [1], the hilt of an epic 300-pound weapon clenched between each of his fists, leaping heroically into the monster equivalent of a modern tank, and slaying it, then lighting up a cigarette and riding his helicopter into the sunset. Sans Marlboro, WoW makes this this image entirely possible.
There’s no feeling quite comparable to getting pwned by Polly Pocket.
9: Rideable Sea Turtles and the Walrus People
You can’t play as one, but the mere existence of these gargantuan Inuit seal-men - what with their carved tusks and their grizzled grandpa-ish mustachios - somehow gives me that same good old faith in humanity that I had when I believed in Santa Claus. All they want to do is fish, eat, craft elaborate fishing poles, and wax those turtles all day (in a fun - not a weird, sexually metaphorical - way).
8: Holidays and Shindigs
Parties, parties, parties... there are just so many parties. WoW holidays and achievements are stupid, colourful, and pointless; the way good holidays ought to be, free from real world Thanksgiving-Christmas-Easter-Hanukkah-Ramadan-Kwanzaa-Festivus stress and/or drama.
7: Nostalgia
Remember the good old days, when you were young and naïve, and Azeroth was a brave new world ripe for exploring? When you would excitedly lean to the edge of your seat just to kill a boar? When you bragged to friends about your level 89 cooking skill? Even the most cynical of WoW veterans know, and want to re-discover, that innocent special place.
6: That Nerdy Special Place
Fuck cool people. There, I said it. Them and their rap music. Who needs James Dean when you’ve got millions of equally nerdy gamers available to quest with at a moment’s notice? Not only will they run dungeons with you; they’ll also want to hear about the viking-mead-horn you got at the Renaissance fair, and have heated conversations on who would win a three-way battle between Moses, Captain Planet, and Jean-Luc Picard.
5: Story
Warcraft wouldn’t be half as popular as it is without its lore. Let’s be honest; even though some of its storylines are so cliché that you can taste the bastard smoothie of Lovecraft, Salvatore, Tolkien, Warhammer, and Indian mythology as it slides down your suspension of disbelief, you’re interested in what happens to Azeroth. What Warcraft lacks in originality, it more than makes up for in character development, to the point where I really want to see how Thrall, Mograine, Varian, Sylvanas, Garrosh, and the rest of the cast respond to Deathwing’s tour of destruction come the upcoming expansion.
In a way, it’s become a nerd soap opera: we’re guilty to admit it, but if we don’t find out whether Thrall and Jaina hook up, we’re just going to freak.
4: Real World Stagnation
In the outside world, I am a simple geologist... but in here, I am Falcorn, Defender of the Alliance. I have braved the Fargodeep Mine, and defeated the Blood Fish at Jarod's Landing...
For one reason or another, the real world seems less fun or exciting than we expected, so what do we do? Do we turn our lives around, train our bodies and minds until they are temples of perfection, then join an Indonesian pirate cartel and live out our fantasies in real time? Not a chance in hell. We’re smarter than that, and do it one better... we log on to a place where we can be as badass as the heroes we secretly see ourselves as, in a setting that still allows our fleshy husks to look like this. That’s freedom of choice, baby. Imagine that was said by Bruce Campbell.
This goes not just for World of Warcraft, but for pretty much every role playing game since Greg Gygax rolled a 20-sided die.
3: Friends
Yes, MMO nerds can have them. No, they don’t need to include David Schwimmer.
This happens every expansion: one real-world friend starts mentioning the possibility of getting back into WoW, the seed is planted in his or her comrades who have themselves been looking for a new game to play during a lull in real life (see #4), and a chain reaction is put in motion. Slowly but surely, dozens of amigos sign on, lured by discussions of exotic mounts and witty guild names. Blizzard makes it easy, giving players - I’m not kidding - a goddamned rocket ship for recruiting their loved ones. By the time the expansion releases, one WoW subscriber has recruited an armada of comrades with which to battle the evil hordes.
For a game founded on community, making and playing with friends is half the fun. The other half is engineering.
2: Money
World of Warcraft may be repetitive, but as far as games go it’s cheap and reliable. While other gamers empty their pockets month after month purchasing a veritable arsenal of new games, the frugal Warcraftian chooses instead to ration his spending, dolling out a smaller fee to play a challenging game that is constantly patched and updated.
Crazy as it may sound at first, shelling out $15 a month to play WoW is a thrifty option for the chronic gamer. And the worldwide economy right now? Well, it’s stressed. Now might be a good time to save whatever rupees you can.
1: Expansion Packs
Nothing says “come back to WoW, you big, sexy, dwarven hunter with your enormous ram drinking horn and your intoxicating ale-soaked beard” like new worlds to explore in an expansion pack. I’m no mathmetician, but according to my calculations (and they’re never wrong), each expansion has increased World of Warcraft’s subscription rate by one hundred trillion percent. And that’s not counting current subscribers.
What turns any MMO stale is endless repetition. Without the flavour that comes with new environments, evolving challenges, and fresh aesthetics, even World of Warcraft’s gargantuan fan base would wither. Expansion packs naturally offer an alternative to such lacklustre finales, combining all of the necessary ingredients listed above to create a concoction of subscription longevity that will keep the game exciting until time comes for the next fun injection.
So. With all these good reasons for people to join the legions of WoW, why does anybody leave for pastures that couldn’t possibly be greener? Sit on your square of rug, my little friend, and let Papa Bear read you a story about paradise lost.
The Top Ten Reasons That People Leave Azeroth Behind
10: Tauren on Kodos
Is that a door I’m heading into? Or a field? Or maybe the shell of a giant turtle?
You might as well travel while wearing a blindfold.
9: General Chat
Maybe I’m old and crotchety, but people are idiots. What was once the racist, homophobic/erotic, uninspired, shallow-stream-of-word-vomit consciousness of Barrens chat is now the racist, homophobic/erotic, uninspired, shallow-stream-of-word-vomit consciousness of the entire world (of Warcraft). This is the real enemy of WoW, more evil and dangerous than Arthas, Illidan, Deathwing, and Back to the Future’s Biff Tannen combined.
Try as you might (by, say, surrounding yourself with a guild of balanced, intelligent human beings, or even joining a roleplaying server), it will find you, wiggle its smacktardy into your consciousness, and leave you mad [2].
8: The Bed Sores
That and the muscle atrophy. Sometimes, it’s just time to go outside.
7: The Pain Caused by Natural Sunlight
Don’t worry, you can fix this. Use baby steps. First, stand near a window, letting the heat beat onto you through the glass. Don’t shy away. Next, gradually step outside. Find a spot without any trees or cloud cover, and bask in the Vitamin D. Pose for increased effect. Lower the SPF level of your sunscreen hour-by-hour, until you once again tan without hissing. Once this is done, continue speaking comfortably to women.
Either that, or you could just put a lamp next to the computer and raid Icecrown Citadel. Again.
6: Sexual Intercourse
If you don’t get off WoW and go outside, you won’t find a mate. If you don’t find a mate, you subtract one nerd from the future population. If you don’t add your nerdy genetic makeup to the gene pool, then the jocks win.
Imagine that for a minute: a world of pure, unadulterated jockiness. The quality of the television and video game industries would decline. Ocarinas would go unsold on eBay. We would never receive the hovercrafts which we’ve been promised.
It’s the grave and hallowed responsibility of every nerd to pass on our tradition and culture to the next generation by bravely facing the mainstream, finding that equally-nerdy special someone, and getting laid. Planting a seed equals life’s epic quest.
5: Smarmy, Pretty, Dainty Alliance
Goddammit, Carl, you’re tanking a seventy-storey fire-breathing nether dragon bent on eating the universe. I don’t care if your hair gets ruffled!
4: Sweaty, Meaty, Testosterone-Addicted Horde
Football? Football! FOOTBALL!!
3: Neverending Game Syndrome
In only 172 hours of grinding, the Egyptian cat people will fucking love me.
2: The WoW-sick
After playing for more than four hours at a time, gamers with even the best constitution scores may contract the dreaded WoW-sick. I’m not a doctor, but if I were I would safely say that this illness, morbius mundiprofessiobelli gravis, has the ability to ravage your positive chi, leaving you a douchebucket.
I’ve lost friends to the WoW-sick. For hours after playing they talked only of matters Warcraft - what their DPS was, how many Horde heads they'd mounted in the guild living room after a one-sided Battleground, and which synonyms of “badass” could be used to describe their armour. Now and then, this talk is fine. People shouldn’t be afraid to brag a little about their feats, or epic fun they’re having. That’s just amiable; it’s sharing. It’s when demons sneak into a gamer’s brain through his or her ear cavity and make them so addicted that they can’t mentally leave Azeroth that the WoW-sick becomes a serious issue.
This illness wouldn’t be so bad if Warcraft wasn’t a game that relies on hardcore addiction to maintain a flock of loyal subscribing sheep like you and me. A severely addicted player will spend months, even years, living with the WoW-sick from day-to-day, floating through social situations and life on Earth awkwardly as if stuck in a Descartian dream, all while looking forward to re-entering the digital world in which they truly feel at home.
There is only one way to cure a friend with the WoW-sick, and it is simple and effective: shoot them in the brain, right smack-dab in the middle of the forehead. Works every time. Unless I’m thinking of zombies. Maybe give them a diet of bread and tea, and encourage vomiting. Urinate on them? Bathe them in the blood of a cloven-hoofed animal while chanting to Kali-ma? I don’t remember.
1: Serious Business
Nothing - nothing in the entire universe of gaming - annoys me like WoW players who act like rock stars; rather, rock stars who are self-righteous, egocentric dicks. Somewhere along the line these people forgot that they were playing a game and adopted a policy of angry, competitive assholism that they spit at generally everyone they meet. They’ve had the WoW-sick so long that they’ve mutated, morphing from real people with compassion and feelings into villains from a John Hughes movie.
These gems of humanity are lurking in every raid, every dungeon group, every major city chat, just waiting to spew their frothing, needlessly belligerent word-vomit all over the first person who does something they don’t take a liking to. This guy is a perfect example. As is this guy. And these other gentlemen. Conversations like this one happen all the time when you play with self-proclaimed 'hardcore' Warcrafters.
All. The. Damned. Time.
In WoW - and, let's be honest, most time-intensive games - 'hardcore' seems to be a synonym for 'immature, short-fused mental patient'. It’s just not fun to play with, and should be avoided at all costs. More than any other reason on this list, these idiots tarnish the magic of WoW and inspire gamers like me to leave Azeroth for pastures greener and less douche-infested. Way to go, gents. Way to go.
See you all at the Cataclysm. You’ll recognize me easily - I’ll be the worgen hunter chasing Deathwing without pants. Rock, rock on.
[1] Yeah, halfling, I know.
[2] Insane, not angry. Maybe both.
Labels: Cataclysm, Columns, Greg Mengel, State of the Union, Top 10, World of Warcraft
- Greg Mengel
Having just blazed my way through Lego Harry Potter: Years 1-4 and replayed LEGO Star Wars: The Complete Saga, my mind is awash with tiny Danish blocks. So far, Traveller’s Tales have parodied/extolled/reveled in the worlds of Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Batman, Rock Band and Harry Potter, forging recreations that simultaneously mock and tip their hats respectfully to their franchise parents by putting them in brick form. I, for one, want more.
Here are fourteen franchises that are already Lego-worthy in my mind. Try imagining yourself playing them in a happy utopian world, where the government provides every family with a unicorn pegasus, where robots work in the place of humans at 9-to-5 blue-collar jobs, and where the water is lined with just a hint of LSD. In this fantastic scenario, Lego has the rights to all creative property - ever - and has handed it off with a smile to Traveller’s Tales with the orders that they must create whatever franchise games they wish, no copyright infringement holds barred. Also, it’s Christmas everyday, and everybody races sled dogs to school or work.
Warning: anyone who says anything about “missing Twilight” in the comments will be slapped with the firm, open-palmed parental justice of a site ban*. That’s GGTL-style judge-and-jury shit, yo.
Begin.
14: Godzilla
To be honest, I’ve seen maybe two Godzilla films that didn’t star Matthew Broderick. I say "maybe" because the plots of every classic Godzilla vs Space/Radioactive Monster That For-God-Knows-What-Reason Seems To Seriously Hate Japan tend to run together. Flipping through channels on sad, rainy days I may have seen twenty different Godzilla films, but I can’t tell the difference. It walks, it screams, it demolishes the Japanese military or protects them against a giant Moth-shaped behemoth. Godzilla has a pattern.
That being said, the idea of giant Lego monsters demolishing a string of 1950s Japanese cities is an extremely fun, and unique, prospect. So fun and unique that I would spend hard earned greenbacks to experience it.
13: The Matrix
Besides the image of Lego figures breaking slowly and laboriously apart in bullet-time, there are a handful of reasons why the Matrix saga would convert perfectly into digital Danish toy bricks. First off, it has the necessary holy quadrinity of Lego title needs: characters, story, overall aesthetic and cult fan-base. Secondly, while I can’t bring myself to watch the second or third Matrix movies without a constant and copious flow of morphine, I would play through them in a game while clean and sober. Scenes that are originally graphic and ... orgyriffic ... can with the power of good old Lego magic become ridiculous and funny.
12: A purely LEGO created saga
Remember those basic sets you played with, back before Lego shook hands with the begrimed, devilish claw of the corporate man? Remember the glow-in-the-dark ghost piece? Remember the castle it took weeks to make with your dad?
I want a game of that.
This is tougher than it sounds. First of all, to do this Traveller’s Tales would have to pray that its original audiences - fans of Star Wars, Batman, Harry Potter, yada yada yada - had become fans of Lego games in general, and would buy a non-franchise-themed product. Second, it would have to tell a new story without using any words or text, as is the Lego game custom. Third, it would need to fuse seemingly unconnected classic Lego sets together with an at least somewhat stout plot. The culmination could be awesome, amazing, and damned terrific.
Maybe a single player version of this.
11: The Wizard of Oz
In technicolor!
Oz is perfect for the Lego game universe. Absolutely perfect. It features a diehard fanbase; a colourful, completely unique imaginative setting; a veritable grab-sack of characters; and hundreds of core and non-canonical plots.
A Lego Wizard of Oz is only plagued by one question: would it sell? It’s not easy to answer. On one hand, parents might love the Wizard of Oz as a clean alternative to toys that promote sex, drugs, or violence, and buy it in holiday droves for the younglings. Or, kids and parents alike could shun such a game as lameness in its purest form, leaving copies to gather dust tragically on shelves.
Bonus points if the soundtrack is Dark Side of the Moon.
10: Chronicles of Narnia
Yes, that’s right, I want to Lego-roll with that mincing, boy hungry paedophile Mr. Tumnus. I want to roll with him for hours: riding centaurs, combatting creepily-erotic white witches, eating tiny wedges of Turkish delight, all in Lego form. Then I want to work out my issues with an expensive counsellor.
Narnia has everything Lego games need, from a huge hardcore fan base to a whole seven books of sweet, sweet satire-ripe plots to choose from. Jokes could be plentiful, as could C.S. Lewis’ hallmark innocent, hyper-metaphorical charm. This game would be a hit in and out of youth groups worldwide.
9: Die Hard
Goddammit, yes, I want this game. Imagine a gritty, ultra-action-packed Hollywood satirisation of one of the most beloved movie series of all time. Think a Neo-Nazi Alan Rickman in Lego form, smarmy cubular scowling face and all. Or gritty cop Bruce Willis, smirking through his dotted five o’clock shadow. Now imagine those characters chasing cars, blowing up helicopters, sending Lego torsos into the engines of jet planes. Lego explosions! Who wouldn’t want to play through that?
Three movies equal one solid game.
8: Spider-Man
Batman was the most obvious comic series with which to beat ruthlessly with the unforgiving Lego makeover stick, but Spider-Man comes in a close second for its depth of characters, myriad of plots, and unattractively-religious (cultish) fanbase. Ever casually told a friend that Batman would thrash Spider-Man in a fight, only to receive a three hour point-by-point lecture - complete with prepared diagrams - on how wrong everything is that you choose to be? I give those lectures. They’ll ruin a twelve hour car trip.
Sadly, there are many reasons not to create another Spider-Man game. Sam Raimi squeezed that franchise for all the public attention it could harvest, then ceremoniously murdered it in front of millions of people. Those seeking to study the day that will forever live in infamy should look no further than 4th May 2007, the terrifying and unholy night that saw the release of Sin’s abortion, the movie-that-shall-not-be-named.
Spider-Man 3.
That film emo-jazzercise hip-thrusted a dark knife through my heart. I still have nightmares. On its anniversary, I wear black. With the ratings that film got, Hollywood knew better than to even whisper about another Spider-Man flick in closed circles until only very recently. Any chance of a Lego Spider-Man will have to wait until a new production team pulls a Lazarus, resurrecting the film franchise.
7: The Passion of the Christ
Lego Jesus building his own cross? Hi-larious.
Let's be honest, this will never, ever happen. But... Lego Bible stories from the Old Testament? That could work.
No, I‘m not looking forward to hell. Unless...
6: Dante’s Inferno, or Any Other Literary Classic
Pride, Prejudice, and Zombies, anyone?
They're not really franchises, but the idea of a true epic work of literature, like The Iliad, One Thousand and One (Arabian) Nights, or - I dunno - Beowulf being morphed into Lego would tickle the bookish nerd in me in a manner inappropriate for children. Think about it! True, tasteful adaptations (see: opposite of this) brought to life by Lego wit and adventure would be a blast. And would they be educational, making parents rush out to buy it in competitive droves? Probably not. But they would be hugely entertaining, regardless.
5: The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
The comic, not the movie. Maybe both.
Alan Moore’s Justice League of Victorian England fits the Lego bill. Boldly solving mysteries as Dr.Jekyll/Mr. Hyde, th eInvisible Man, Dorian Gray, Captain Nemo, Martian explorer John Carter, crazed scientist Dr. Moreau, and the many other members of the League, while thwarting archvillains and saving literary kind would, in a word, be goddamned terrific.
4: Avatar: The Last Airbender
For crying out loud, M. Night Shyamalan, what in red sinful hell were you thinking? A 7% Tomatometer approval rating. Seven. Percent. As in, out of one hundred. This isn’t just bad; it’s Kazaam territory awful. The kind of movie that drives you to take a shower after seeing it, just to scrub off the terrible.
To be a product that people over the age of ten will actually want to buy, a Lego Avatar would need to separate itself by hundreds of millions of creative miles from its cinematic adaptation, modelling itself on Nickelodeon’s fantastic cult classic television series, the “inspiration for the movie,” instead. With Shyamalan’s unholy bastard child shrinking far in the rear view window, the makings of a classic Lego game could be in the works. With four types of bending, myriad other skills that could translate into various gameplay types, a gorgeous and vast world to explore, and a veritable smorgasbord of characters to choose from, this game could be excellent.
3: World War Z
Cause when there’s no more room in hell, the dead walk the earth.
Muslim is to Qur'an as Zombie Aficionado is to World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks. A disturbing prophecy of undead doom nigh upon us, the book uses a series of fictitious interviews to let us know exactly how the shit went down when, in the near future, a zombie plague ran rampant through the living human world. One part horror, another intellectual documentary, World War Z is just dying to be tastefully translated into game form.
Here’s how I see it: hundreds of Lego zombies, lumbering limbless like C-3PO in Lego Star Wars after he takes damage, moving en masse towards your Danish-bricked hero, a player-designed character who is moving frantically from war-torn country to country in an attempt to locate a zombie-free haven to fortify with his or her family and friends. As the nations and people of the world respond to the zombie threat, so too do the globe-trotting main characters, who will do anything to secure peace from the undead hordes that chase them.
LEGO zombies equal hilarious.
2: Lord of the Rings
After years of debate and wondering, it looks like a Lego version of the epic Lord of the Rings mega-franchise is finally happening. It is a strange fate that we have suffered so much fear and doubt over so small a thing.
For obvious reasons, a Lego Lord of the Rings would sell oodles upon oodles of copies, to children and adult-nerdy-types (myself included) worldwide. The Hobbit, The Fellowship, The Two Towers, Return of the King, and possibly Silmarillion equals a mountain of gameplay potential as tall as the series itself. My guess? We’ll see a Lego Lord of the Rings pack sometime around the release of The Hobbit, when the Tolkien fan frenzy rises from hibernation. I can’t wait.
Much as LEGO Lord of the Rings would be amazing, it still doesn’t match the pure fun capacity of the franchise topping off my Lego wish list...
1: Star Trek
Star Trek, you’ve earned a LEGO incarnation, dammit. Let’s go over a few reasons why a LEGO Star Trek would rock:
- Five crews with stories to tell (Separated by captain... Kirk, Picard, Sisko, Janeway, Archer)
- Space battles and exploring brave new worlds on foot + a gaggle of strange technologies + hundreds of possible character species and rank types = infinite gameplay possibilities
- A massively large, dedicated fanbase waiting hungrily for a solid (or even kick-ass) Star Trek game (no dice, Star Trek Online).
- Over 700 episodes, 10 movies, and an expanded universe which only Star Wars can match to pull stories from
- Besides captains, there's a plethora of loved heroes to play as (Spock, McCoy, Uhura, Checkov, Sulu, Scotty; Riker, Worf, Data, Troi, Wesley and Beverly Crusher; Dax, Kira Nerys, O’Brien, Quark, Odo, Garak, Bashir; Chakotay, Torres, Tuvok, Kim, Paris, Neelix, Seven of Nine; T’Pol, Trip, Reed, Sato, Maywether, Flox, and others).
- An antagonist gallery filled with recognizable villains (Khan, Q, Klingons, Romulans, Nero, Borg, Lore, Cardassians, Gul Dukat, Dominion, Gorn, basically anyone to exist in a mirror universe, and lots more)
When the new, Abrams-directed Star Trek film was released, it breathed three hundred and eighty-five million box office dollars of new life into a tired franchise, and got kids excited about that corny science fiction show their dad watches after they’ve gone to bed. That set the stage: at least two sequels with the same cast are slated for release. If they’re good, this trilogy could be the next Lord of the Rings or Star Wars IV-VI. And if that happens? You can bet Star Trek marketability will boldly go where no franchise has gone before. That means Lego.
...cause the party don't start until they walk in.
* I in no way have the power to implement this sweet justice.
Labels: Columns, Greg Mengel, Lego, Lego Harry Potter: Years 1-4, State of the Union
- Greg Mengel
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