Best Friends – a Story
Posted by syn1c in Uncategorized on March 6, 2010
I didn’t realize when I woke up this morning that my best friend was going to die. If I had known that, I don’t think I would have gotten out of bed.
Sal was one of those guys everyone liked. He was always willing to lend a hand, even if it meant he was going to have to put aside something he wanted or needed to do it. That’s just who he was.
When I was 7, my mom decided to move me and her to the city. She got offered a new job or something. All it meant to me was that all the grass and trees were gone, replaced by lamp posts and concrete. That summer was starting off bad. I was never good at making friends, and having to move from the only two people I even considered friends (I can’t even remember their names now, funny how that works), was tough. My first few weeks in the city were spent in front of the tv or outside, watching the local boys play stickball. They never asked me to play, and I never asked to join, it was our unspoken agreement. That was until Sal showed up.
Immediately, Sal was different. While being the same age as me (though I didn’t know it then), he looked older. He just had this look, this confidence. I remember he had a huge wad of chewing gum in his cheek, and he kept spitting like it was tobacco (funny thing, in all my years, I never saw Sal drink or smoke, I think that chewing gum was his vice). He had this old beat up Phillies hat, (which I had found out he had gotten from one of the Phillies himself, it was the greatest hat ever), and what looked like a genuine Phillies jersey (it couldn’t have been, we were only 7). He looked like he was going to go down to the Vet and play that Sunday.
As soon as he entered, everyone started gathering around him, Hearing the kids yell “Hey Sally”, and “Yo Sally hows ya doing?” What I found funny, sitting there on the stoop, was that Sally to me was a girls name, and this was no girl. I also quickly realized that they weren’t making fun of him calling him Sally. Weird.
After he said hi to the group, it became evident to me that he was the leader of this rag tag group of kids. They all looked up to him (mostly because he was so tall), and he held himself with an air of confidence that I’ll never forget.
“Hi.” I quickly looked away. “Sally” was standing in front of me, holding a cut up broomstick. “Wanna play wid us?”
“I don’t think I’d be very good.” I quickly realized that the cracks on the stoop were the most interesting thing I had ever seen.
“C’mon, we need one more for even teams.” He held out his hand like he was the mayor of the city, “I’m Sal.”
I looked up, and could see a smile that was missing 2 teeth. It was a warm inviting smile; one that without thinking made me put out my hand, and introduced me to my best friend.
We spent that afternoon, and the rest of the summer, playing stick ball. Winter was hockey, and sometimes football (concrete hurts when you are tackled). I quickly became friends with the whole neighborhood, and felt like I was one of the gang, but Sal was my confidant, my priest.
By the time we were almost done with high school, Sal and I decided to join the Navy. While it wasn’t my thing, Sal excelled (as he seemed to do in everything), and by the time my four years was up, he decided to stay a bit longer.
When I went back to the city, it was nice to have the lamp posts and concrete, and the familiar surroundins, but it wasn’t the same without Sal. We wrote to each other all the time, and when he’d be on leave we’d hang out. Even the thousands of miles between us didn’t stop our friendship. At this point I started working the mill, working with metal.
“That’s gonna be the death of ya,” Sal said to me, his Navy service finally ended. We hugged each other at the train station, and I brought him to my beat up car. The cigarette sticking out my mouth was something I picked up at the mill, it was like induction to working there (here’s your mask, your apron, and your pack of smokes, haha). I hadn’t told Sal that, mostly because I was ashamed. Whereas most of the kids we grew up with had gotten into drinking, or worse, Sal never did nothing. I think it was because his dad was a bit more into the drink than he should have been. Once in a while Sally would show up with a shiner, or a bruised up arm. We both knew what it was from, but I had too much respect for him to ask him about it.
I smiled sheepishly, putting out the cigarette on the ground. Sally was home!
Time moves on, and Sal wound up moving out of the city, to the middle of a development like 500 miles away, with his new wife and the promise of a new job. Immediately it started going well for him there and before he knew it he was well liked around town and his job was going well.
In contrast, I had a wife who berated me, made sure I came right home from work every day, and who I had the sneaking suspicion had been thinking I was rich or something. “Watch her,” Sal told me for the umpteenth time, as he adjusted my tie. “She may seem all sweet now, but there’s something I don’t trust.” After he said this, he hugged me, and walked out of the room as my best men at my wedding.
While things at work weren’t bad, they were mostly just boring. After doing this for 15 years, I had begun to realize that I had other things I felt I needed to try. Talking on the phone to Sal about this he kept mentioning we should move up by him, plenty of opportunity. Said with my experience he could get me a job making more, possibly a manager position. Finally, one bright sunny Friday afternoon I told my boss I was quitting, grabbed my paycheck, and went home, excited to tell my wife about the changes we were gonna make.
When I pulled up, I knew something was wrong. There was this big black car pulled up in front of our house (where I put out the lawn chairs that morning to keep my spot). I walked up to the house and the door was locked (she never locked the door, ever during the day).
“Honey,” I yelled as I walked in. Walking through the house I couldn’t find her. Moving towards the bedroom I stopped. The noises were unmistakable. My stomach began fluttering. I opened the door slightly, and promptly lost everything that had been in my stomach. I quickly closed the door, grabbed the few things I cared about, and went to my mothers. While I told her what happened somewhat, on the phone I babbled it all to Sal between sobs and a bottle of whiskey. He was calm, supportive. Even though he had warned me of her, and I was too stupid to listen, he never once called me out on that. The next day he came down, we cleared out my stuff (after a wonderful shouting match that ended with my favorite beer stein getting chucked at my head), and I temporarily stared at my mothers.
I went through the motions of filing a divorce (no kids thank God). For her being unfaithful, and me having done nothing wrong, she got the house and the car, as well as my savings. Me, I got a nice lawyer bill. Justice eh? For months I stayed in my mother’s house. Doing nothing. Smoked a lot of cigarettes, drank til I passed out, watched tv or sat on the stoop. Depressing.
One Saturday morning (musta been around 8 or so), there was a knock at the door. Standing there, bright eyed and smiling (his missing teeth long since gone) was Sal. He hugged me, said hi to my mother (this must have all been a plot by the two of them), and proceeded to grab all my stuff from my old room and load it into his car.
By the time noon hit and my mother had stuffed us with her amazing pasta and meatballs (I’m telling ya one of those things could choke and Ostrich, but I watched Sally put down like 5 of them), we were on our way. Where you ask?
Well, Sal’s new job up there was in real estate. He became well versed in the buying and selling of property, both commercial and residential. It made him money, and it also had him invest in the stock market. “Now listen to me,” Sal had said one night on the phone, “I know it’s a lot of money, but I’ll make sure to get it back to you.” Sal had asked me for five hundred dollars. This was like a year after he had moved to the suburbs. By that point Sal had never asked me for anything. He never needed to. But here he was on the phone, asking me for a wad of cash. I think part of me beamed that night as I sent him over half of my savings, the thought of Sally needing something from me made me feel good.
As Sal was always good to his word, 3 months later there was a check for me for that same five hundred. I put it back in the bank and promptly forgot about it.
As we’re pulling into this driveway of this nice looking home in the burbs, Sal hands me a piece of paper.
“What is this Sally…” the words trail off as I look at this check.
As Sal bought and sold stock, he had gotten good at it. It was just another thing he succeeded at, while normal people like me and you would be totally confused. Well Sal had taken that five hundred, and made it multiply. A lot. More than I could count honestly.
“I can’t take this.”
“It’s yours. You earned it. I just made your money work for you.”
Once he explained how it all worked (as best he could, it was still over my head), he told me about the storm he saw coming my way. About how he saw trouble with my ex-wife, and he wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to be screwed. He also knew how a divorce (he knew this was going to happen, I tell ya he’s psychic) would basically take away all my money and belongings, so he made sure not to mention this to me or my wife, (he told my mom though, funny how that works).
The house we were in the driveway of was mine. His (with his wife and little girl) was next door. While my house in the city still had like 18 years of mortgage left, this was paid in full. All in my name. I couldn’t believe it. As I cried, Sal held me, telling me how excited he was to have me as his neighbor. Unbelievable.
This morning I woke up. Earlier than I had in months. While this house looked different, and felt different, it was starting to feel right. The drinking of the previous months was gone, replaced with coffee (black, lots of sugar). I went onto the back porch (in the city they are stoops, here they are porches, go figure) and lit up.
“I keep telling ya, those things’ll kill ya” Sal said to me. I smiled. The sun was just starting to rise, and there was a nice chill to the air. Sal was in his jogging outfit (only time I ever saw jogging outfits were on the old guys in the neighborhood, and they never ran in them), having just finished his run, I guessed.
As I walked back into the house to get more coffee, I looked out the bay window to the front. There was an ambulance, and what looked like Sal’s wife, in her bathrobe. Laying on a stretcher was someone (oh God), in a red and black outfit.
I dropped the coffee cup, not noticing it shatter into thousands of slivers, and went back outside. Sal was sitting there, eyes closed, the sun shining his red hair, almost making it look like it was on fire.
“Remember the day we met?” he asked me, his skin looking more radiant than usual. I nodded, uttering something close to yes. My hands shook as I grabbed a smoke, lighting it quickly. My tears began to stream down my face.
“You looked so sad and mopey, sitting there. I couldn’t imagine anyone being that sad. For some reason I just knew I had to get you off that stoop.” His eyes didn’t open. The sun just kept getting brighter on his face. My tears were gushing, salty, bitter.
Finally Sal opened his eye and looked at me. While his eyes were still blue, I could see the ocean in them, it was terrifying. In an instant I lived through everything he and went through for a second time. From that time playing stick ball til last night’s barbecue. It was all there. And it hurt.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he said. He stood up. His skin was so bright it was golden. At this point I was crying in loud sobs, shaking my head, “No, no it’s not.”
Immediately I felt this warmth envelope me. This deep, calm came over me, and for an moment, I felt Sal’s friendship to me as a physical feeling. And then it was gone. I opened my eyes, and ran out front to meet Sal’s wife, who was crying.
It was too late. Sal was gone by the time I got out there. Heart attack. The guy who didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, kept healthy by running 5 miles a day had a damned heart attack.
The day was a blur. Most of it spent in the hospital. Then at a funeral parlor with Sal’s wife. Sal, being the planner he was, made sure everything had been taken care of financially, all that was left was signing the forms.
By the time I got home, the light was fading. I hugged Sal’s wife, and went to my own house. I felt bitter, cheated, but mostly just sad. I grabbed a cigarette, and went to the back porch, thinking I must have imagined this morning. Maybe I had the cancer or something. Maybe I’d die too. And then, sitting on the table on the porch I saw it. The unlit cigarette dropping out of my mouth.
A beat up Phillies hat. The brim so torn it looked like it had been through the war.. The red P so faded it looked brown. I picked it up, and immediately felt him, his presence. I cried again, holding that hat like it was my firstborn.
So here I sit. Hat on my knee. My face red, puffy. Sun’s just starting to come up. Haven’t slept. What now? I walk out towards the porch, grabbing my smokes, and put that hat on my head. In the backyard the sun is just starting to melt the morning wetness, and I can feel a slight chill go up and down my spine.
Without a thought I feel myself crushing the pack. “Those things’ll kill ya,” I say to no one. I walk out to the front door, seeing this world, this beautiful place that my best friend made sure I’d be a part of. As I opened the door, I could feel my heart beating faster. I began to run. As I ran, with a faded Phillies hat on my head, I felt Sal next to me, running with me. I could hear his voice, and I smiled. As I smiled, I finally felt at peace. Thank you Sally. I love you.
King of Fighters XII – What is and what could have been
I remember being in Philadelphia, down on South Street. There used to be this rad game store called Got Game? Used to have all sorts of rare video games and imports. I was in a fighting mood craze, having picked up Marvel Vs. Capcom 2, and remember seeing Fatal Fury: Mark of the Wolves. Having always been a Capcom guy, I had never paid much attention to the SNK
Bringing it home, I remember loving it. In a world that was pretty much switched to 3D, and fighting games (except Soul Calibur /love) were slow and plodding, Garou (Japanese title) was fresh, fast, and exciting. While there were similarities to Capcom fighters, there were indeed differences, many of which I liked.
Over the next few weeks I bought Capcom Vs. SNK 1 and paid 70 dollars to get Capcom Vs. SNK 2 imported from Japan.
From that point onward, I’ve always had a thing for fighting games, even more than playing Super Street Fighter II on the Genesis. If it’s a fighting game, I’ll pretty much pick it up, (sigh, even the DOA series /shame). While I like other games, fighting games tend to hold my interest more. Maybe because of my short attention span, I don’t know.
Fast forward: 2009. The year of the Fighting Game. Shall we run down the list?
Super Street Fighter II Turbo HD Remix (okay, it was 2008, but December, close enough).
Street Fighter IV (the holy grail)
BlazBlue
Garou – Mark of the Wolves (XBLive)
King of Fighters XII
Marvel Vs. Capcom 2 on XBLive and PSN. (though fucking Microsoft has an exclusivity so it’s not on PS3 yet. bastards)
Tekken 6 (October)
I very well may have missed one (and Soul Calibur IV was in 2008 and was disappointing, so bleah).
2 weeks ago, I went and picked up KoF XII for the PS3 (woohoo getting it early, or so I thought). I went home that night, played a little bit on the lackluster arcade mode (it has the AI of mentally retarded rabbits), then went online….
I sat through a 4 minute slideshow. The person I played apparently was used to the lag, and destroyed me.
Every match online since then has been a similar offering. Slow, laggy, unplayable, unless your used to play everything back in 1997 on dial up. Now, since I get it early, and so did a number of other players, Ignition stated a patch would be online on the release date, (July 28th) would fix the online issues. Sure, there was a patch, a 700 meg one. What was this? Oh, it’s the fucking isntaller off the goddamn disc. Thanks SNK, that’s really fucking helpful, my games installed already. Guess what, post patch, still a slideshow.
Has SNK ever heard of a fucking QA team? Load testing? Do these terms make any fucking sense? Hello?
So now, KoF XII since on my shelf, unplayed. There’s no point in playing the Special Olympics arcade (never been a fan of unlocking digital art to look at on my tv, the practice mode has a fucking awful menu system, and the online, well, SNK’s last great idea was to check your NAT settings? WTF? I’ve been working in IT for over 12 years, and this is not a NAT issue. How come SFIV and BlazBlue play amazing (even SoulCalibur IV is acceptable online) without me having to jack with my NAT settings? Guess what SNK, fuck you.
It’s just sad really. SNK released a possibly great game during a great time. There has been this huge resurgence of fighting games, with old players and new players coming together. (This was the biggest EVO ever, what’s that tell you? For those that don’t know, EVO is the largest Fighting Game tournament in the Country, possibly the world. For SFIV alone, there were over 1,000 competitors). Yea, it’s missing some of my favorite characters, Mai and Vanessa, but I’m okay with that. What I’m not okay with is a broken game I spent 60 bucks on.
I think this may have ruined SNK. They spent 4 years on this game. Instead of putting it on the PS2, they actually put the effort into putting it on the 360 and PS3. They used Twitter and Facebook to promote the hell out of it. It’s been hyped for months, and they fucked up. Big time. So what now? Do they patch it? Do they just let it die? I think they are going to have to patch it, but by the point a patch comes out, will anyone care? Reading forums, people are saying to bring it back to the store, get your money back, it’s that bad. I’m not ready to do that yet, I’d like to see a patch, a real patch that makes online play worthwhile. I’d like to see some DLC with new characters (though you’d better make it fucking free or cheap as fuck, after this rip-off).
What galls me though the most, is reading the tweets from #KOF12. They are all reviews, with decent to high scores from various publications. The last announcement about any type of fix for the online was 5 fucking days ago (and it was about the bullshit NAT “fix”). 7 tweets have been made after that, with no other mention. Hey dickheads, get me a patch. I don’t give a flying fuck about your review scores, fix my fucking game.
So there you have it. Kof XII, in a nutshell, is a piece of shit. It’s pretty if you like hand drawn art, that’s a smooth 60 frames per second. (I am curious though why all the filters make it look worse, and not better, meh). It has an arcade mode that you can win by pressing one button over and over, and a totally broken Arcade Mode. It has some great ideas, and could have been a great rebirth of a once great series. Right now though, someone is using a copy of it to put the last nail in the coffin.
If anything changes, I will add to this post later.
-syn1c
-And for reading this rant I leave you with this gorgeous image of Mai. This is probably going to be my new stick art once I get off my lazy ass and design it.
Gaming Pains (or why I hate American joystick layouts)
For those of you who don’t know, I’m a fighting game obsessive. From the first time I played Street Fighter 2 in the arcade, I was hooked. I have spent countless hours playing, reading, researching, and obsessing over fighting games.
Back in the day, when Genesis and SNes were king, joysticks weren’t really an option. The fact that our parents bought us the 6 button gamepads for Street Fighter was amazing, and was way better than pressing start on the 3 button pad to switch from punches to kicks. Things change…
A few years ago, Street Fighter Anniversary Edition was coming out for Xbox 1 and PS2. Regular PSX and Xbox pads are horrible for fighting games. Some of my friends use them, and play well, but I think they are batshit crazy. Fortunately, a company decided that a stick was needed. The stick was called the Street Fighter Anniversary Joystick, and it looked perfect.
It’s big, bulky, and works on both the PS2 and Xbox 1 through a splitter. I remember buying this stick, carrying it home (living in Philly made walking the norm, even with a huge ass box that is carried for 8 – 10 blocks), trying it, and noticing it didn’t feel right. The buttons didn’t have the right feel of the arcade, and the stick was mush.
Fortunately, I found my savior in ArcadeStickMonk. He’s on a bunch of different gaming forums, and posted a tutorial on how to replace this hardware with actual American arcade hardware. I immediately ordered a new joystick, and 8 replacement buttons (I still don’t know why I did 8. No fighting game uses 8, and probably never will. whatever).
Once they came in, I spent a long night replacing everything. It was on. Now, for those of you who don’t play fighting games competitively, using a stick at home at first is a nightmare. While you were able to pull of every Shoryuken, Hadoken, and Spinning Pile Driver with ease on a pad due to that’s all we had at home, trying to use a stick is like someone cutting your hands off and expecting you to play. You can’t pull off shit. You are worse then when you started. It does get better, but it’s frustrating.
Anyway. Over time, I got used to using a stick for games. I even bought an adapter to use it on my well loved Dreamcast, for amazing games like Capcom Vs. Snk 2, Street Fighter Alpha 3 Sakyo Dojo, and Garou: Mark of the Wolves. I wouldn’t say I’m amazing, but I can hold my own. I am decent.
After this, Tekken 5 came out, and HORI released a stick for it. The joystick was lollipop, the buttons were all curved in their rows, and it was weird looking. I bought this as well, about 4 or 5 months later, and hated it.
While it looks sorta cool, the curve and that little ball made no fucking sense to me. As I found out, this is Japanese style. (The reason for the lollipop stick is because of their smaller hands, that’s my guess. Heck go look at pics of old arcade machines, like PacMan and Donkey Kong. They all used lollipop sticks)
I used this off and on, mostly with Tekken. It didn’t feel right with Street Fighter, or King of Fighters, or anything. So it was my 3D fighting game stick.
I found out that the stick and buttons on this were trash. While the Japanese version of this stick used Sanwa hardware, this used HORI crap. (Sanwa is the leading manufacturer of arcade parts from Japan. I’ll get to their awesomeness in a minute). Due to the fact that replacing them would require soldering (which at the time I had no idea how to do), I never replaced them. I still have this stick, in stock form. I don’t think I’ll ever bother modifying it since I have other sticks, but it’s a nice piece to own.
Enter Byrdo. Byrdo, in my opinion should be ranked with other top artists of our time. He makes joysticks that are gorgeous, and play wonderfully. He makes some with American, but most are Japanese style, either Sanwa or Seimetsu (another hardware manufacturer from Japan. Mostly used in space shooters, but great stuff). My biggest concern with Byrdo was price. How could a little box of wood, metal, and plastic cost 200-400 bones? Well, after a lot of debating, and cursing, I ordered one.
It’s called Silence. Sanwa stick, Seimetsu buttons. Like I said, Byrdo makes art that you can play with. When I finally received this, I used it, a lot. It’s got plenty of nicks in the wood, and looks like it has been through hell, but it still plays great. Worth every penny.
After I received that stick, I pretty much re-learned everything I learned from the Street Fighter stick. The beautiful thing about Japanese controls is how little you need to move.
Picture this: It’s a smoky American arcade. You are watching people play Street Fighter (you’ve got your quarter on the panel “Got Next”). What do you notice? Their arms and elbows are moving like crazy, and they are slamming the shit out of the buttons. Why? It’s not because they don’t know how to play (well, it could be but let’s say they do). American arcade parts are built like tanks. They are meant to withstand stupid kids who don’t care, and are rude and destructive. So the joysticks are super stiff, as are the buttons. They are meant to be abused. If you go to a Japanese arcade, you will see players using small motions. They use their wrist to move the joystick, not their whole arm. Japanese sticks need light touches to get motions. And Japanese buttons? The lightest press will register, so playing on them you can move quicker due to not having to press so damn hard.
As time goes on, I’ve gotten more sticks, and more fighting games. The funny thing is that every stick I’ve gotten is Japanese style, with Sanwa hardware. Byrdo corrupted me. So for 3+ years I’ve been playing on Japanese arcade style layouts, with Japanese buttons and sticks. Fast forward to last night.
I decide I want to play some Street Fighter Alpha 3 on my Dreamcast. Unfortunately, my Byrdo stick won’t work with my converter, so I pull out my Street Fighter stick, in all of it’s American goodness. I play for about 15 minutes before my arms feel like they are going to fall off. Having gotten so used to Sanwa, using American parts is torture. Every action has to be overextended, and exaggerated. My light touches on the buttons doesn’t recognize diddly. I have to slam. By the time I’m done playing my arms and hands are actually sore. Like I was just at the gym sore.
So yea. I don’t think I could ever play on American style hardware for any length of time ever again. It’s too clunky, to tough, it lacks elegance. Heck even the straight layout of American controls is dumb, it makes way more sense to have the buttons curved which more closely resembles how your fingers sit naturally.
There you have it. If you want to play fighting games, go Japanese style. Practice tons. Enjoy it. Much love.
Links:
Byrdo.org – some of the most gorgeous joysticks ever
Shoryuken.com – the premiere site for all fighting game goodness.
Lizardlick.com – want to buy sticks (Japanese or American), buttons, what have ya? LizardLick has amazing service and great prices. Support them!
and in case your curious, here is a pick of one of my recent sticks. Once artwork is applied I’ll post an updated pic:
(and yes, those 2 things where buttons 7 and 8 would be are covers. Never needed em yet, haha!)
Resident Evil 5 review/rant
I have been a devout fan of Resident Evil since 1996 since the original one for PS1, with the huge box and the imagery of a retarded Chris Redfield on the front cover.
2009 seems to be the year of Resident Evil. 2 new Resident Evil games, one for the 360, one for the Wii, and 2 remakes on the Wii, that’s good stuff.
I picked up RE5 on launch day, and have spent my time going through it, getting accustomed to it’s style, and at 5am this morning, beat it. I think I’ve played it enough to give my pluses and minuses about it, to explain what works and what doesn’t, and maybe what Capcom should have done instead.
Loved: Controls, Art direction, Length
Hated: Sheva, Story, Item Management
First the controls. Having been playing a bunch of RE4 on the Wii, this game is a dream to control. I know if I press a button, the game is going to do what I want, and the only time that Chris will look like an idiot is when I do something stupid (unlike Leon, who did stupid things all the time, thanks to the WiiMote). Yea, it sucks not being able to walk and shoot, but I think that’s more a throwback to old school RE than anything. That doesn’t really bother me. So yea, good controls.
The art direction felt really well done. While I was never scared throughout the game, I can live with that. The Manjini were truly horrific, and enemies like the Reaper and the LickerB were beautiful in their grotesqueness. I thought it was cool how the almost entire first half of the game is outside during the day. While I’m a huge fan of the cheesy horror cliché’ of stormy nights with crazy winds and thunderstorms, this just worked well. Horror happens at any time, not just when the weatherman says “oh shit, storm’s a brewin’".
Environments felt huge. Even though they were actually very confined and linear, the visuals and style made them feel much more massive than they were. I loved being able to go through various huts and homes, gathering weapons and money, felt a lot less repetitive than doing it in RE4.
The length of this game to me was perfect. Like I said, I bought it on launch day, and have played a few hours here and there (redoing levels to gather more ammo and money quite a few times, etc) but I never felt like this game is never going to end like I did in 4. Each level took me from 35-50 minutes to complete, which is a good length with save points and checkpoints throughout. I have a full time job, and a wife, and a house. Even though I’d rather play games for 15 hours a day, I don’t have time. Thank you for not making me backtrack through the game like an idiot (hate it when games do that, it’s like the main character is a fucking idiot who forgot their wallet earlier in the game).
This isn’t really all I liked about the game. Voiceovers (minus Wesker, which I’ll talk about in story), gunplay, and enemy interactions were great, these were just the points that stood out to me.
Sheva. You’re hot, luscious, and “I would love to tap that ass. I would tear that ass up.” (thanks Knocked Up), but you are a fucking moron. You stand in front of me while I’m trying to shoot enemies, and while I don’t hurt you, it makes my aim for shit. I only trusted you with the machine gun throughout the whole game, because you love to waste bullets shooting enemies that are too far away to kill. If I tell you to come over you don’t fucking listen (look, I’m all for women not being men’s subordinates, but when it’s a dynamic of the game, just do it). I could go on and on. I want to go through this game with my buddy Jarrod, I think it’ll be a much better experience in that aspect on Co-Op, because then I won’t be dealing with an idiot. Capcom should have developed something for using her akin to FFXII, where you can assign her macros, would have been a lot better.
The Story <SPOILERS>. I’m a huge fan of the story of RE. Yea, it’s corny, and steals from so many different things it’s not funny, but I’m okay with that. Horror should be okay to laugh at itself. My issues with story are just that it doesn’t really push the envelope much. Having watched RE:Degeneration right before this came out, I knew about TriCell, and all that good shit. I just feel like story-wise there wasn’t much going on. You learn more about Umbrella (which is shit I already knew because I’m an obsessive RE fan), and you understand that TriCell moved into Umbrella’s old digs in Africa where they made the progenitor virus. That’s all well and good. By the end though, nothing has changed. You don’t learn as to why Chris and Sheva were really sent here, you don’t know why the BSAA pushes them at one chapter to keep going and then tells them to retreat the next, and after that, you never hear from them again. It just feels like a hodge podge.
The whole Jill thing was super easy to find out. As soon as you saw her with the bird mask, you knew it was her. I’m glad they had her in here, but when the hell did she become a blonde and not a brunette? I guess after Wesker implanted that device on her chest he took a bottle of bleach and stood over the sink, massaging her scalp while he talked about his great plans to release Uroboros into the air. Wesker, fucking Wesker.
Wesker is lame. I liked him in 1and Code Veronica, where it felt like he was some Billy Badass mastermind who was holding all the cards and playing up a great plot. In RE5 though he just felt like a generic villain who just loves to spout off all his plans to any person who gets unlucky enough to get stuck in the elevator with him. He’s that guy who does that at work, and you feel fucking cornered. The only difference is that Wesker can move super quick and get right up to your face and tell you. I just wish he would have shut up, and wouldn’t have been able to talk anymore. His battles were lame, especially when compared to all the other rad boss and sub boss fights throughout the game. I hope he’s really dead, because I’m just sick of hearing him speak.
Lamest thing about Wesker: Apparently right before this game he saw the first Matrix, and not only stole Neo’s moves, he decided the wardrobe was 100% badass! Dork!
</SPOILERS>
One other nitpicky thing about the story, is when Chris finds a document on the ground, and reads it, then says something out loud pertaining to that document (or lackthereof), it really throws everything off. It’s like reading Catcher in the Rye, and then shouting out loud, “I should read Catcher in the Rye”. You sound dumb, just like Chris. I wish that there would have been good cutscenes of interaction between Chris and Sheva after some of these docs, to develop the story more.
Item Management fucking sucks! I understand that a normal human shouldn’t be able to carry 50 big ass weapons at the same time, but how are you telling me that a Rocket launcher takes up the same exact space as an herb you can shove in your pocket? Makes no damn sense. Using Sheva as a mule is a necessity, but there’s two annoyances to this. 1. You have to make sure it’s nothing she could possibly use, or else she will use it by Golly (except grenades, I wish she would have used them, and I never saw her use them once). 2. I would load her up on ammo, for my gun, and when the level started, I’d run away from her so she couldn’t give it back to me. She did it almost every time. Of course then I’d give it back to her (Capcom, this is one of the suckiest minigames ever, FYI). Of course, when I’m out of ammo, she wouldn’t give me a shit, and I’d have to request from her while some Manjini is about ready to rip my throat out. Thanks.
While it’s not on my list, why the hell would Capcom not only make you spend a shit ton of ingame cash upgrading weapons, then make you go through the game a bunch of times to get “credits” (it’s more or less out of game cash), so that you can make uber powerful weapons with unlimited ammo. To me, it’s just a pain in the ass and feels very artifical.
So is RE5 a good game? Yes. Without a doubt. It’s fun, there’s some moments that are over the top, and silly, and the combat overall is a joy. There are issues, but they aren’t deal breakers, just things I wish Capcom had spent more thought or time on. Watching headshots blow off Manjini’s heads never gets boring, especially near the end because you don’t know if they’ll just die or some parasitic fuckhead will launch out of it. It’s good stuff. Is it my favorite RE game? No way. That spot is held for either 2 or Code Veronica, and Capcom would basically have to remake those games with new visuals and gameplay to unseat them. So yes, get this game, and try to grab a friend to play through it with you.
one more <SPOILER> (HAHAH)
Hi, I’m Excella. I’m only in the game for an hour or two. I think I was only put in for more sex. Look at my boobs, why else would I be in here? I add nothing to the story whatsoever, and am pretty pointless. But you get great ass and tit shots of me in the two hours I’m in it.
</SPOILER>
My top 5 Philly artists of all time (punk/hc)
Top 5 and top 10 lists make sense to me. They allow you to easily put something that may mean a lot into an easily identifiable list. I swear my brain thought like this before I ever saw High Fidelity. Without anymore bullshit, here we go:
5. Atom and His Package – the precursor to Nerdcore in my opinion. Catchy, snooty, keyboard laden silliness that makes you just want to smile.
4. One Dead Three Wounded – hardcore with a metal tinge to it. Dark, brooding, heavy shit that was just amazing. Only ever saw them once but they were definitely cool fucking dudes with a great attitude.
3. All Else Failed – While a different style of ‘core than One Dead, they are rad. Good harmonies from Luke, though standing near him at a show means the possibility of getting a fist in the mouth (unintentional, but the dude is fucking intense). I like how their style tends to deviate from most modern hardcore.
2. Ink and Dagger – No list would be complete without the Philadelphia vampires. I am so glad I got to see them 4 or 5 times before their singer unfortunately passed away. Shows were intense bouts of energy and violence, and reminds of me of the good old days before violence was a concern for me at a show. Definitely one of my top 10 bands of all time, and they deserve much more credit than they get besides from old people like myself.
1. Arms of Orion – Yea, technically they are from West Chester, but they were all living in Philly for a portion of their career. While most other bands were trying to fucking hard to be catchy, they did it without trying too hard. Maybe I’m biased because I went on tour with them, but they are good dudes who should have blown up, instead of that fucking piece of shit label Abacus not releasing their full length before going under. You can grab their full length at http://www.purevolume.com/armsoforion, it’s worth the download.
So yea, that’s my top 5. If this were all genres, The Roots and Boyz2Men would be in, and this list would be longer than 5. Since I’ve been listening to a lot of the hometown stuff I stuck with what’s been keeping my attention.
(This and the following posts were from my previous blog, which I thought I had lost. I’m stoked I found them.)
QA is a good thing (or why Toynami QA sucks)
I’ve been on a kick lately, one that involves giant mecha who defend humanity. This involves the following:
Macross (all the old and new series from Japan)
Mospeada
Gurren Lagann
Gundam (starting with the 1st series)
Patlabor
Due to this, I’ve bought a few collectible toys.Yamato is simply amazing. They make a great product that’s fun to transform, and looks gorgeous. Even though I like the Japanese show’s much more than their American counterparts (re: Robotech), I decided to check out 2 of their toys, the Alpha Fighter and the Beta Fighter. The day I got them, I excitedly tore open the packages, and went from frustration to elation, and back again. Here we go.
At first glance, the quality between the two seems the same, at least between the boxes. Huge collectible boxes that show their pilots, with collectible numbered seals. Gorgeous. This is where the similarities end.
Even though I opened the Alpha first, I’m going to start with the Beta, because it’s much easier to talk about. It’s a great toy. it’s heavy, transforms well, and presents itself as something that exudes quality. I love it.
There’s a great amount of detail, and it feels solid during transformation. While the price is a bit much, it’s definitely worthwhile. The Beta has great fit and finish.
Back the the Alpha fighter. This is a sad state of affairs. The fit and finish is worse than a bootleg toy from a flea market. While it’s metal, which is nice, the paint application is terrible. There are chips and overspray all over. While transforming it, there is all kinds of paint and plastic just shaving off. In Battroid mode (Battloid for you Robotech fans), the figure can’t even stand up straight. It sorta does this flopping over like a hunchback. The hands for the figure feel like they are going to fall apart, and i couldn’t manage to make the figure hold the gun. Needless to stay, I am currently talking to Toynami about getting the Alpha Fighter sent back for a refund.
I don’t get how Toynami can find this acceptable. While the Beta Fighter is a well made figure, the Alpha is a dumpy piece of trash. While the ideas are there, the execution is terrible. I’m surprised I haven’t found reviews all over the net bitching about how terrible this toy is. So yea. Just skip the Alpha series. Not worthwhile at all.
“Cloud Computing” or am I ready to be totally untethered?
Posted by syn1c in personal, technology on November 13, 2009
While I’m writing this blog post, I am waiting for my fiancé’ to get done with work. I am on my Inspiron 11z, no cords, grabbing WiFi and using a battery. Next to me, my BB blinks red for new email. It’s amazing how I can be in such a foreign place such as her office and yet be totally comfortable, the Internet there, Twitter and Facebook blinking at me occasionally from TweetDeck. Google Chrome is there as well, along with Outlook. I have a bunch of people I could talk to on Pidgin across 4 or 5 different chat protocols. It’s pretty scary if you think about it.
Years ago I would back up my data to disk. First it was floppies, then 100 Mb Zip Disks and then CDs. I still have so many old backups of documents, applications, conversations on a binder of cds I never look at. I have had the same spindle of CD-Rs and one of DVD+RWs for over 2 years. They are pretty low, but I hardly ever use them. Why is this? Why this change over the last year plus? Is it the Cloud?
Cloud computing has lots of different definitions. To me, it basically means that I can access anywhere. I can read, write, listen to all my favorite things right here, or at work, or on a train, or anywhere. I can make a Twitter post in an airport, while listening to my Pandora account, and be chatting to someone at the same time. I know some people are paranoid about their privacy and all that, which I respect, but I honestly don’t think my stuff is all that special, so privacy isn’t that important in certain aspects to me. At the same time though, I still use Outlook at home. While all my email accounts are IMAP, (gotta be synced everywhere), I just haven’t found a great alternative to having a centralized app for email. I also haven’t converted to Google Docs yet, and still use Word, Excel, and the like. Why is that? Why is it in certain aspects I’m so willing to put everything out there, while email and my documents are not?
I think a lot of it is habit. Documents are supposed to be on your C drive, right there next to Spreadsheets and various other crap. That’s where I’ve always put them, and I just haven’t given enough of a try to put it all on the Cloud. Don’t know if I should or not (the idea of needing a doc and not having b/c of lack of Internet terrifies me), but who knows. I am however beginning to use DropBox, and so far I like it as a nicer way to shovel around files between home, work, etc.
Maybe in a year I’ll be able to have a computer with an OS, a web browser, and nothing else. I don’t think I’m there yet though.
Going back
Here I am. On a US Airways A321 plane. Okay. The last 3 months, I’ve flown to or from Denver, Idaho, and now Philly. Every plane I’ve been on has been a crapass prop that makes me feel like a contortionist. Hell, even the one from Durango to Phoenix was like that. When i got to my seat on here, I originally thought I was going to be screwed on a middle seat. They said it was an exit row. Not exactly. It’s right behind the huge leg room exit row seats. In the middle. Fuck. I prepared to have no feeling in my legs for the next 4 or 5 hours.
Fortunately, by the time we had all boarded, there was an aisle seat on the exit row, sorta of a diagonal. The guy next to me told me to go take it, since it was empty. So now here I sit, with enough legroom that makes 1st class look jealous, no one sitting directly to the left of me. All I need is a Stella and I’m pretty much perfect.
In case you were curious, I’m going back east. Jersey and Philly to be exact. I haven’t been back in about 2 years. Buying houses, job, lack of money, make trips back east tough. Also, the last time I was back east it was my brother’s wedding, and my family was in a clusterfuck. At least now they are talking. I’ve started smoking about 2 years ago as well. Meh. I’ll be quitting once I get back to Colorado. Need to call that hypnotist.
This month has been insane. From my wife’s family being around to my father-in-law’s wedding, to going to fucking Idaho to bring my mother-in-laws car to her. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been a great experience, but I am fucking exhausted. Through all this, I’ve still had work, and while it’s been great to see a bunch of people I haven’t seen in way too long, it’d be nice to have a week without anything. 2 weeks from now, that’s where I’ll be at.
This is the last leg of my September insanity. Going out to Philly. Seeing my family. Seeing one of the closest people in my entire world. Part of me wants to cry I am so excited. I think people might freak out though so I’ll keep it inside. I don’t know if it’s in preparation of going back, or because of it, but my playlist lately has been pretty old.
Indian Summer
Portrait of Past
Portrait
You and I
Bound
Most people will have no idea who these bands are. To me, these are some of the most influential bands I have ever had the privilege of listening to. You and I and Bound were old “screamo” hardcore bands from New Jersey (I think that term is funny on so many levels).Members of each went on to form things like Neil Perry, Kid Dynamite, None More Black, etc. It’s unfortunate that I only got to see Bound’s last show. It’s funny because that was where I found out a kid from one of my college classes was the singer of Bound and was going to be the singer of Kid Dynamite. I fell in love with that CD. Melodic, heavy, with out there almost occultish lyrics at times. Fucking amazing.
You and I I saw in Marlton at a show with blue.skies.fade. I think that was during the time of shows happening almost every weekend, and hanging out with Refuse 2 Fall from North Jersey. These were some of the best times I had ever had in my life. Seeing a shit ton of bands, both bad and good, hanging out with friends, going to the Medport Diner till all hours, then going to school in Philly. Pretty amazing if you ask me.
I remember talking to Justin(?), the singer of You and I after they played. He said that show gave him the worst headache. I can see why. Playing live,they would destroy and torture themselves. Crying,. screaming out. It sounds pretty lame I know, but at that time it was one of the most intense things I would ever experience. I think that the only thing I could ever compare it to was an amazing orgasm. An intense, amazing orgasm. One that obliterated your mind and body. Too rad.
Indian Summer and Portrait of Past are bands I heard of randomly (thanks Internet). Similar vein as the previously mentioned, but maybe 3-4 years earlier time wise. I also doubt they ever played in Jersey or Philly, but who knows.
It’s sad that music like that doesn’t really exist anymore. I’m not talking about generic modern day “screamo” where the kids dress a certain way (though we all did the same damn thing. Somehow I could justify wearing huge jeans, visors or headbands, and tons of chain and beads.Obviously this was so much better than wearing tight jeans, white belts and eyeliner. Amazing how jaded we become.) The music just all sounds alike. Whereas I think bands at the time were just trying to be spoken word poets who happened to have music as their backdrop, these modern bands have a blueprint. I try to listen to some of it, and while not terrible, it doesn’t make me lose my shit like the bands when I was growing up. Experimentation makes all the difference in the world in my opinion.
So that’s been pretty much my playlist for almost 2 weeks. Makes me feel like I’m 20 again. Makes me feel like when the only important things in life were seeing as many bands as possible, and hanging out with friends, and making fun of show hoes. School, my job(s), they weren’t nearly as important. Maybe they should have been. Fuckit. I wouldn’t trade those memories for the world. So many shows. So many people. It was an amazing time. A time where all that mattered was that day, nothing else. Tomorrow, yesterday, didn’t matter. Only the here and now.
Next stop. Philly. Jersey. Mom’s house. I’m excited. I’ll post this once I get to a connection. But hey, greetings from some 20,000+ ft above you.
A New Beginning?
Posted by admin in Uncategorized on August 24, 2009
Wordpress took a shit on me trying to make changes. Lost it all. So we’re starting clean. Stay tuned.