More swag!

Here are some other things I've gotten rid of lately. Things that are relevant to this blog, but not important enough to merit their own entries. Though you could argue that things like my sticker book didn't deserve their own entry, either. In which case, touché.

Old console/controller boxes! These things have been in the garage since before you were born. The spider inside the Genesis box was enormous and terrifying. If this was a 90s commercial, it would have yelled 'SEGA' at me.

This excellent poster details the hot new games you can get for your Game Boy. That Donkey Kong Land III looks pretty revolutionary, doesn't it? It kind of looks like James Bond is in Cerulean City.

A breakfast cereal collectible card from Babe 2: Pig in the City. I don't know in what sense it is collectible, but dear golly, my collection of one certainly included Thelonius.

One of these books supposedly contained 1001 cool jokes, but I'm not quite positive as to what qualified these jokes as being 'cool'. I certainly didn't feel cooler for owning it. The other book was my secret spy book. And clearly now, the secret is out.

This magical Sylvester head holds stunning secrets. You can keep candy in there! I mean, I'm sure there are other things you can put in there, too...

"No! Just candy, Ned! Ninety dollars!!"

#0055: Resident Evil 3: Nemesis (GC)

I give you fair warning: I'm kind of drunk right now. So if I spout anything incoherent or controversial, I assure you they are not necessarily my views, but the ones forced upon me by my good friend, Mr. Miller.

That being said: Euthanasia! Abortion! Stem-cell research! Cel-shaded Zelda! Controversy is fun when it's also incoherent.

Eight. (I wanted to say 'right', but I mistyped it three times on my iPhone and gave up) Tonight we look to tackle zombie masses, with a series I only have brief history with. The Resident Evil games have been lauded over the years for their eerie atmospheres, clever blend of puzzles and action segments, and the ability to seamlessly introduce sharks in a mansion. That's right: MANSION SHARKS. The fear of every billionaire!

Originally made for the PlayStation, the first title was later re-invented on the Gamecube. And boy, did it look pretty. With approximately four times the graphical power, those zombies were comin' atcha with a whole new look, like a brand new Edgar suit.

Unfortunately, either in an effort to cash in, or a queer way of re-establishing the timeline for RE4's premiere, the next two titles were hastily ported. Resident Evil 3: Nemesis is all 32 bits of terror, brought to you, as the box says, 'in all its original glory'. It's like asking for an iMac and getting the 1998 G3 model. Sure, it's neat and all, but times have changed, and the peak of the iMac came with Zoolander. Henceforth, I'm going to envisage Nemesis as being voiced by Owen Wilson. Golly, almost makes him seem cuddly now!

I've decided that I'm suddenly a BAMF, and I opt to select hard mode. ...At least, I'd like to claim it was because I was a BAMF: in actuality, I selected hard mode by accident. Indeed, the very vibration of the controller and menacing voice stating the title of the game was enough to frighten me.

The game starts with a bang (literally). Jill Valentine, who between RE1 and now has concluded that zombies are best fought in a tube top and miniskirt, muses that this is her last escape, before exploding through a wall like the Kool-Aid man.

A pair of zombies lurch out behind her, and when I first played the game on PlayStation, un-aided by a manual, these zombies were serious trouble. Why wasn't the attack button working?! Was I already out of bullets? A quick squiz at the control screen reveals that you first have to take the attack stance in order to fire, but obviously the zombie invasion had me in such a panic that I failed to realise this. Tragically, I fled right into the waiting arms of a third zombie, who gave me a most unpleasant hickey.

But now, I am a wily veteran. Pow, pow! I shoot the first one in the head, and then dance over his fallen body. Whether it's because hard mode makes them faster, or I'm just an idiot with no depth perception, the second and third zombie close in on me quicker than expected and commence devouring me. Om nom nom! According to lore, that should be the end for me right there, but Jill's a hardy lass who shrugs it off. Regardless, I proceed to piss bolt down the alleyway, squealing like Cyndi Lauper.

So obviously, I'm no better at this game now than I was in 2003, and 2003 Tony was no better at this game then than he was in 1999. I'm glad to know that in a potential zombie invasion, it appears as though I will be quite useless. In all likelihood, I'd probably stay with the dude who locks himself in the shipping container. We could talk about Goof Troop into the wee hours of the morning. Sounds okay to me.

After my inauspicious start, it's a romp through the rendered backgrounds of Raccoon City, fighting for survival and seeking signs of life. Personally, I always struggle trying to find my way around these environments: since every setting is static (save for a camera angle change as you move around), I occasionally have trouble differentiating props from paths. I like to press A to observe everything. I enjoy the concept that Jill would take her eyes off her attackers long enough to note partially eaten food and a discarded toy box. Also, for shits and giggles, I take any opportunity to climb up on things and mock the monsters who are just out of reach. Which was great fun until one of them vomited on my Ugg boots. Fucker.

Twenty minutes into gameplay, and I am so frigging lost, and so frigging out of bullets. It's rapidly shifted from a game of survival into a really upsetting game of tag, and I'm fast lamenting my earlier decision to take pot shots from a balcony, naming the zombies as I shot them.

Finally, after sidestepping countless enemies and eating some green shit I kept finding on the ground, I've made it to the police station, an excellent place for me to chill. Before I can enter however, I'm confronted by the titular Nemesis, who, as you can see from the cover, is not a friendly sort of fellow. He lumbers towards me, muttering 'stars' like an obsessive Javert fanboy, and I'm given the option of running into the police station, or taking his ass out.

The choice is obvious: I'm going to fight him like a (wo)man! Here's a video detailing how it went:

...No, this isn't what actually happened. As you may recall, I had no more bullets, and I've yet to figure out a way of throwing my gun like a boomerang. He killed me quite swiftly. The game handily informs me that I died. I make sure to check that I am actually still alive, and begin typing this entry. Pretty sure its claim was erroneous, but I suppose I could just be a particularly wordy zombie.

As a final side-note, I always felt very morose when fiddling with the options screen. A combination of this music and a depressing grey background of twitching, infected cells certainly made me feel guilty for being there. Dammit, all I wanted was to change to control type B! Don't judge me!!

#0026: Tales of Symphonia

The Nintendo GameCube may well have been my favorite console. Not necessarily for it's catalogue of games (though it does feature magical titles like Smash Bros Melee, Wind Waker and Pikmin!!), but because of the memories I have associated with it.

It's lifespan of 2001-2006 corresponded with my high school years, a time when your mates could just swing by your place after school and have a gaming session, and it would be SWEET.

Melee, Mario Kart, Phantasy Star Online, you name it, we'd sink hours into 'em. And for that reason, we were always on the hunt for multiplayer games, particularly ones that allowed for cooperative play.

So that's how #26 on our list (or should it be 25, since I cheated with the talking Pikachu?) came into the collection. It was a title that toted cooperative four player gaming and a great, big immersive adventure. How then, did Tales of Symphonia disappoint? Read on, you crazy diamond...


First, some background: one day, as a joke, I put a couple of dollars into an envelope, that I creatively dubbed 'the Lovely Envelope', and asked my friends to make a donation. They did, and as time went on, we continued putting in the occasional coins until the envelope swelled with money.

We transferred our funds to an empty Pringles tin, and the cash kept going in there. I guess when you're that age, you don't have much to spend your dough on, so offloading a few bucks for no particular reason is more acceptable.

We had determined that we would use the money to buy gaming-related items. We started with a multitap for the PS2, allowing us to plug four controllers into the console instead of just two. A good start, and our SmackDown sessions thrived as a result.

Our second purchase (and if memory serves, the last one) was ToS here. My buddy Matt had done a bit of sleuthing and come across it. It fulfilled the necessary criteria to be appropriately awesomesocks, so it was with great anticipation we popped it in the little black cube and started it up.


It's story follows the escapades of one Lloyd Irving, tasked with awakening a goddess to prevent the destruction of the world; a dire fate set off by the sacrifice of a hero to save a particularly important tree.

Yeah, I dunno either, but it's not like we're playing this for the story. (Our first of many mistakes!)

As Lloyd and an ever-changing cast of allies, you travel the world, encountering enemies and battling them in an arena-like enclosure.

So that would make this an RPG with real-time combat. And right off the bat, that proves to be a chaotic gaming style. Because, if you weren't aware, RPGs are most often heavily story-driven and laden with dialogue. This would be fine under usual circumstances, but this is a multiplayer game, and most sweaty frantic teenagers aren't keen on sitting around and taking in a whole lot of text.

From the opening scene in the classroom, we moaned about when they'd cease their incessant blather and let us play.

I wanna move! I wanna kill stuff! What's that, a chair? CAN I KILL IT?


Then finally, Lloyd came free of his stint in suspended animation, and we were permitted the exciting gameplay element of MOVEMENT.

And what did we have to do? T-t...talk to people? No! Killing! Pleeeeease! If we were playing Smash Bros, we would have each amassed twenty kills by now! (Except my mate Dom. He was shithouse.)

Herein lies the dilemma: the combat is appropriate for four people. The overworld, however, is 100% RPG, and that's a problem. Even when there's something interesting happening, like exploring a dungeon, only player one is even present.

So you watch a lengthy cut scene, you take a few steps forward, you watch another cut scene, you might progress a few more inches, then finally you have a little fight, followed by a cut scene expressing how you all felt about said fight.


Furthermore, as the cast isn't static, there are times when there simply won't be enough playable characters for everyone. You wait around for four folks to turn up, you smack some cronies around, then you go onto the next storyline arc, and all of a sudden, Lloyd is alone again.

What kind of demographic are they hoping to appease with that? Patient children? Frequently absent gamers? One person with eight hands?

In case you couldn't tell, this game's failings really stemmed from the fact that it didn't suit my friends and I. Not necessarily it's fault, but when you're eight minutes into a multiplayer game without having done a single thing that even vaguely resembles gaming, you have a problem.

Then finally, you get out in the field and start killing some zombies, ghosts and unlucky little bunny rabbits, and you think... that's it? The combat is nice, but it's not exactly enough to hold your attention amongst the overworld stuff.

...I think I should have preceded that video with 'spoiler alert', but it seems as though every ToS fight on Youtube is one. My lore is no more! Also, that fight looked kinda cool, which really contradicts the point I was trying to make. Er-hem.

Effectively, the biggest fault of ToS is that it's a single-player experience masquerading as a multiplayer game. It has a large cult following, so obviously it's doing something right, but it most definitely was not for me.

...Wow, this entry wasn't funny at all, was it? It was borderline informative, in fact! I guess I'm still dwelling on my Sonic Generations plight.

Oh well. At least selling ToS will bring be approximately three dollars closer to my goal...