Showing posts with label Pokemon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pokemon. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 10, 2019

Tales


"So you're called Ninetails, huh?"

"Yeah, but you've been spelling my name wrong. It's actually Ninetales."


"What are you talking about? You've clearly got nine tails! Why wouldn't it be spelled that way?"


"Just do a Google image search of Pokemon anthro fan art. Trust me, I've got some fucking tales to tell..."

Friday, September 7, 2018

#0094: THINKChip Pokemon Battle Stadium


I try to strike a balance on this blog as I send yesteryear's paraphernalia into the ether; the major impetus, obviously, is to select things that may be of some interest to the wider toy-collecting demographic. Folks out there tend to get a kick out of items related to popular '90s fads like Street Sharks. Less so when it's a pig I made from a sock. Go figure.

The other side of the coin, I must confess, is how much benefit I will receive from jettisoning these toys. Not fiscally, mind you, because I've made no more than a $4 return for Madden NFL 2005 on the DS (I legitimately had to argue with the staff member over trading in SmackDown: Just Bring It, as if it was carrying an ancient curse). Nay, the benefit I receive is slightly less clutter, hence why I've been trying to up the ante lately by turning my attention towards more unwieldy items.

It From the Pit no longer haunts the laundry room. Rock & Roll Elmo has ceased from tumbling out of the closet. And hey fuck you, those Gashapon figurines took up more space than you'd think.

So today, we shed the THINKChip Pokemon Battle Stadium. Now, the only battles we shall enjoy are the ones of our mind.


Two men enter. One will be blessed with immortality. The other, ripped piecemeal by the gnashing of a thousand bloodied fangs. Gotta catch 'em all!

Based on principle, this was one of the more relevant pieces of Pokemerchandise. You pitted your beasts against one another in the form of detailed figurines with a microchip lodged up their rectum. You could choose between a standard or a special attack depending on the type matchup, then press the button to stop a light on the floor as close to the middle as you could to maximise damage.

That made very little sense in hindsight, and I'm the one who wrote the goddamn sentence. It's all a bit much to explain it, so let me just refer to YouTube for further information. It's win/win, really. They get the extra two and a half clicks that come with my blog, and I cut approximately 800 words off my total. That gives me more room to say 'fuck', and that's very important.


Well, that sure was fun! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeb!

There were a couple of issues holding it back from being a rollicking success, however. If you've recently read my entry on the B.I.O-Bugs, you can probably guess one of those issues already (if you haven't, well fuck you you're not invited to my slumber party). For you see, it's all well and good to have these fancy electronic devices where you could trade data and battle your friends and rellies, but the odds are, nobody else is going to own a single figure to justify it.

So what was I going to do? Invite people over to play with my battle toy thing? How do we decide who gets which Pokemon? They're mine, after all, I earned them through hard work/wise investment/pleading with mommy and daddy. So to be perfectly honest with you, I don't think I ever actually engaged in mortal combat with anyone other than myself, and remarkably, all of those matches were gerrymandered to ensure that Bulbasaur would always win, because he's my boi.


These were all of the Pocket Monsters I managed to collect. As you can see, it's a fairly conservative figure (pun? Maybe?). Squirtle and Geodude came with the stadium, and near as I can recall, tracking down the others was an absolute nightmare. Bulby and Charmander were must-haves, because damn those Kanto starters make me moist, but I never got around to amassing anymore. Either I reasoned that I had plenty of time to find the others, or I saw the writing on the wall and knew that I would hardly ever use them. I kinda doubt the foresight on the latter.

Only during my current investigation have I discovered that they actually went as far as releasing a few gen 2 critters like Cyndaquil and Totodile, but had the audacity to deprive the world of Venusaur. Clearly, they reasoned that Ivysaur was already too overpowered, and they would have to suppress its potential before it overthrew the Indonesian government.

As you can see, the figures look really damn good. You can even move Geodude's arms around to help boost his street cred. The actual functionality of this is probably to make him a lot less fragile as you haphazardly yank him to and fro. Even if you ended up snapping off a limb, that would be fine - because let's be honest, nobody was using Geodude to begin with.

Once again, any intention I had of taking my THINKChip posse for a spin was put on indefinite hold once I opened up the battery compartment. If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times; take your fucking batteries out of your fucking toys. They're mean old pricks who demand your constant attention, and if you leave them to their own devices (or more accurately, your devices), they will leak aggressively.


Is it irreparable? Probably not. Is Tony going to repair it? Oh hell no. He's got more important things to do! He hasn't worked out what they are yet, but he's well aware that he's got to do them eventually.

In any event, you'll just have to venture over to YouTube for any battle fixin's you were craving. There's a fair few. Some of them are fairly cringey, I must confess, whereas I'm fairly confident that mine would have only proven to be mildly cringey (and rigged as fuck, because you know that everyone is jobbing to Bulbasaur).

So thank you, THINKChip Battle Stadium, for being there through thick and thin, during some of the greatest times of my life, and some of the worst. I'm not suggesting that it was super supportive, I just mean that it was literally there, sitting around. Doing jack shit. A bit like its owner, actually.

Monday, August 6, 2018

Good Eeveening


One more quick hit for my spree of Pokemania; I thought I would show off my collection of Eevee Legacy plushes. These gaffers retailed at $25 each upon launch, with one being released every month. Considering their size and quality, that's actually a pretty good price - I was able to nab them at $20 apiece, but that's neither here nor there.

Eventually they got down to clearance prices of about $9 each, which is absolutely mental, but by then it was just a few lonely Leafeons whose cherubic smile belied their internal misery. I have this weird obsession with collecting a full set, so once I ventured down the dark path of buying Vaporeon, I eventually knew I had to see the journey through. Which will be great until they inevitably unveil a new Eeveelution and I have to start all over again.

Also in this photo: a Ninja Turtles pillowcase I have had all my life and can't bear to part with, a sun-bleached fully packaged Rosalina amiibo and my cat alarm clock that used to annoy the whole household. The joys of visiting dad's place!

Friday, August 3, 2018

#0086: Pokemon Gashapon Figurines


After the raging success of the last entry (I asked the serial killer who occasionally visits my bedroom what he thought. He described it as being 'pretty cool', then proceeded to remove another one of my organs), I surmised that we ought to continue embracing the frenzy of Pokemania. Today, we're going much more minuscule, and for once, I'm not even dipping into my usual fallback of McDonald's-related merchandise.

These nifty Pokemon Gashapon figurines are not only tiny and adorable like a Colombian prostitute, but I think I could eat them all without even a single episode during the digestion process. Sorry, all that talk of McDonald's made me hungry.

I have had many dalliances with Gashapon machines over my thirty miserable years on this earth. Though not every toy vending machine falls under that branding, you're pretty much getting the same thing from all of them; wee little trinkets that you'll probably throw in the bin shortly thereafter, or in my case, store in a drawer at your dad's place for a decade, for reasons unknown.

One of my most vivid toy vending machine memories came when I used one that was dispensing rubber bug toys. I received something with big mandibles that resembled a stag beetle, which is fairly unspectacular by most accounts, but the main reason that I remember it is that I somehow broke the container in my feverish attempt to wrest my prize free, cutting my hand open on the jagged plastic. Think of the most gruesome death you've ever seen on The Walking Dead. It was basically that, but worse.

Fortunately, this happy trio is yet to cut me open. It consists of Turtwig, Chimchar and Piplup, the starting Pokemon from Diamond, Pearl and Platinum. For various reasons, gen 4 doesn't receive a lot of love; the victims of Pokefatigue and perhaps less ambitious than they should have been, they are still, of course, fantastic games that don't deserve a lot of the flack they catch. That kind of vitriol should be reserved for gen 7. Ho ho! Controversial.

Turtwig et al play merrily below an unspectacular tree, the ground dotted with several holes that suggest there was once some kind of apparatus to stand the figurines up. Of course, such an apparatus remains only a telltale whisper on a scandalous wind, so its veracity is dubious, at best. That there is fancy talk for I dunno where the fuck them things is at.


Don't worry, boys. We've all been there.

The figurines are unfathomably small, to the point where if you were to give them a whiff, you'd risk snorting them directly up your nostril. As such, any kind of aromatic pleasure you hope to receive from them is a fool's errand, and is best reconsidered. They have an admirable amount of detail, from Chimchar's cheeky monkey grin to Piplup's plumage. I bring attention to the latter because it has these white dot things on its chest that look all too much like nipples. Frosty penguin nipples, for all the world to enjoy. ...Did you enjoy? I thought they were okay.

What I can't help but wonder, though, is what purpose they are meant to serve. Not only are they incredibly losable (which is apparently a real adjective and that makes me very happy), but they don't really do much of note. They are more ornamental than anything else, and once you lose the pegs to actually make them stay put, as I am wanton to do, they don't even perform that task particularly well.

If you intend on flipping the script, pointing an accusatory finger my way and demanding to know why I bought them in the first place, my extravagance is already well-established. You are, after all, reading the blog of a man who bought this, these, these and this. Your words can hurt me no more than I can hurt my own bank account, so neener neener neeeeener!

I also have another Gashapon critter in my possession, but this one is even harder to explain.


Yes indeed, that there is Mr. Fancypants Darkrai, still in his original packaging and coming complete with a transparent Ash Ketchum boy toy of his very own. He comes from the Pokemon Diamond and Pearl Blockbuster line of Gashapon figures, and I can only surmise that this refers to the fact that they all had a movie about them at some point. I know for sure that that was the case with Mew, Lugia and Entei, each of whom are also included despite the fact that they have nothing to do with Diamond and/or Pearl, but the rest I'm not so sure of.

In fairness, there have been approximately 195 Pokemon movies, and most of us checked out mentally during the first one when the conflict between good and evil was resolved with tears. I was nine at the time, and as I sat there in the theatre with my dad, I couldn't help but feel ashamed by how lame that was. WHY WAS MEWTWO UPSET BY THIS DESPITE THE FACT THAT THIS WAS HIS INTENTION THE WHOLE GODDAMN TIME? BY HITTING CAPS LOCK I LOOK LIKE EVERY INTERNET COMMENTER AND WOW, IT'S A LOT MORE SATISFYING THAN I EXPECTED.

Darkrai is of a more serviceable size, but despite this utility, I kept him imprisoned like a particularly off brand version of Han Solo. And you know what, I really can't begin to tell you why. It's not like I was dismayed that I hadn't gotten Jirachi instead, choosing to cast Darkrai aside in an effort to show him that he's not pretty enough.

The mystery is so deep and complex, I think I'll keep him in there as I send him off onto his next chapter in life. Someday, someone more benevolent than I may decide to release him from his stasis, or the cycle will continue forevermore; a perpetual loop of ghastly misery.

As for Turtwig, Chimchar and Turtwig? Man, fuck those guys, they won't even stand up long enough for me to snap a decent photo. As if I care where they end up.

...Spoiler alert, I actually do kind of care, because I'm vaguely hopeful that someone really will either eat or snort them up. I don't know why I'm this way. I just am.


Tuesday, July 31, 2018

#0085: Charizard & Blastoise


Ahh, Pokemon. That kooky phenomenon that captivated the world for a solid two years or so. This may sound insignificant in the vast enormity of pop culture history (and even more so if you extrapolate that figure to the dawn of mankind), but that is, in actuality, an incredibly long run for what some might deem a 'fad'.

To be fair, Pokemon has more merit than the curios of yesteryear like Beanie Babies and Pogs, by virtue of the fact that it was built on the foundation of a video game that was actually incredibly good (albeit hugely flawed, if you're willing to incur the wrath of stubborn genwunners who have had their fingers in their ears for the last two decades), and as such, it has enjoyed great success to this day.

But damn, to be a kid at the turn of the millennium when it was at its peak, it was something else, man. And other than everyone's third favourite rat Pikachu (behind only Mickey Mouse and Donald Trump), this formidable duo was at the forefront of the whole thing.

Odds are, you have fond associations with your very first Pokemon, particularly their evolved forms, Charizard and Blastoise.


...Unless you were smart enough to choose Venusaur, that is. But hey, we can't all be luminaries.

By the time we had reached 2006, Pokemania was little more than a collection of shrapnel scattered on the floor, threatening to be carried away by a strong Gust (it's super effective!) But I was still hooked. I am still hooked, obviously. I'm little more than a petulant man child who happens to be wearing a Litten hoodie at this very moment. And no, you can't have a photo.

So it was an inevitability when Jess and I arrived at McDonald's that Saturday evening in September that I would be walking out there the proud(?) owner of a figurine made for children. To give you the full scope of the situation, here's a blog entry I made the day after...

Our order was prompt; twenty chicken McNuggets, a quarter pounder and a Big Mac. ...Hmm, sounded more impressive at the time. And I lie, it was not prompt; I hesitated in my decision to go with the Big Mac. Foreshame, Tony.

Possessing the sustenance, I peered up at the menu above. I keenly noted that they were still hawking their cheesy Happy Meal wares, and today's selection would be of the Pokemon variety. Ho-hum, how tacky, how 1997, how childish, how droll... OH MY GOD THEY HAD CHARIZARD.

I will now admit, I get all giddy at the very mention of Charizard, simply because he's a massive angry dragon whose tail is on fire. He's everything I ever dreamed to be, and though in actuality he ranks like thirteenth or fourteenth on my list of Poke-preference (the upper echelons reserved for such legendary beasts of valour as Venusaur and Dragonite. Those are the money-mon), he was always meant to be the most utmost cool Pokemon. I mean, seriously, his trading card game card cost like $100. That's one expensive lizard.

I had previously expressed my Charizard-fancy to Jessica (probably as an off-handed remark; 'Yes I'd like a coffee, and some scrambled eggs, OH MY GOD CHARIZARD RAWR'), and she could no doubt see the intensity in my eyes.

She quickly asked how much the toy would cost on its own, and I was taken aback. Sixty years from now, though there shall be a special place in my heart for my graduation day, wedding day, and the inevitable day I win the Superbowl, they will all bow down to the day when Jessica would buy me a Charizard. That, ladies and gentlemen, is the true mark of saintliness. ...After all, it's not like I was gonna ask for the friggin' thing, I look like a twenty-six year old stoner, don't need to act like one too.

I merrily watched on with anticipation as the McEmployee sifted through her box of mystery for the Char Czar. She came back empty-handed, expressing that there were none available.

WHAAAAAAAAT?? The sign clearly stated, AVAILABLE NOW. Had NOW expired in the duration of the last couple seconds? Was the Charizard on display in the case next to me mocking me at that very moment? I should have staged a McMutiny. I should have sent HER to St. Louis!!

She did however mention that for $2 I could have a substitute Blastoise. Jessica asked if I wanted that one, and, save for the fact that I felt like a seven-year-old who was just denied his favourite toy, I couldn't help but pity the poor Blastoise.

He's no fire-brandishing dragon, nosirree, he's a turtle with water cannons. He's like the G-rated Charizard. The Diet Coke of Charizards. What Charizard would be if he was a sissy. Whereas Charizard sits at a mighty 18 on my Poke-list, Blastoise probably occupies a conservative 35. I was still gonna get the Blastoise, oh hell yeah, but I was gonna sulk all the same. Additionally, keep in mind that the previous couple paragraphs all happened within the span of a couple seconds, which suggests that I really do ramble on.

Funny how times have changed. Charizard later took a tumble down the power rankings, fuelled by my bitterness that it got such adulation where others would be forgotten. But enough about that. What of the toys themselves?

They're both pretty damn cool. Quality figures, with their own little quirks and hidden abilities. Charizard's tail lights up with the fury of a thousand suns (or at very least, an alkaline battery or two), and if you press a button on its back, its wings wiggle. Barely. When I unearthed it from the drawer, it was doing its best Sephiroth impression by being a one-winged angel, and even after I had tracked down the missing appendage, its movement is particularly unmoving. It may have to take these broken wings and learn to fly again, learn to live so free.

Blastoise don't mess around, on the other hand. It's a wind-up toy, and boy howdy does it go like the clackers. Its hydro cannons poke up and down as it powers along, and its arms are outstretched in the ultimate display of aggression. Plus, it just has this look of genuine unhappiness on its face that I can only assume comes from having been dismissed as my 35th favourite Pokemon twelve years ago.

Which one is the truly superior toy? Well, there's only one way to find out...


In hindsight, there was probably a more academic way to solve that.

Monday, February 1, 2016

Addiction renewed, part 1

So what happens, you may be asking, when a blog dedicated to clearing space and moving on in life comes to a stall?

...Addiction sets back in, of course. And because I've arbitrarily made the commitment to never get rid of any toys unless they're in the guise of this blog, there's only things coming into my possession, when it's supposed to be the other way around.

But hey... I hope you enjoy my amiibos!! I certainly do. I wonder if they're the only item that's rapidly multiplying? Stay tuned...



Monday, November 23, 2015

Team X-Stream

So it's been a few months now, and no doubt the lack of updates have given y'all reason to believe that I have, in fact, fallen into a bear trap of unfathomable size, been accosted by deadly wasps with laser eyes, and then combusted into a million pieces, each of which was then eaten by camoflagued wolves. It's the only logical explanation, after all.

The good news is that it's only the half truth. I'm doing fine, and will possibly begin toy blogging in a few months. Got that wedding to save for, after all. Should you miss your quarterly intake of Tony, however, you may be excited to know that I've taken up streaming and Let's Play-ing (awkward verb is awkward).

Check me out on Twitch if you're so inclined, or head on over to my YouTube channel to see gaming excerpts of all shapes and sizes. You might like it!

...I mean, you might hate it, too, but that's a risk I'm willing to take to hawk my shoddy wares.


Tuesday, January 13, 2015

5 Life Lessons from the Nintendo 3DS


So the Nintendo 3DS is a great many things. From an enjoyable plaything to a portable time waster to a tool for taking surreptitious photos up women's skirts (in 3D!), it's given us years of fun. What most don't realise, however, is how many things it has taught us over the years. Important lessons: Fire Emblem Awakening gave us the harsh reminder that death is final. Super Mario 3D Land showed us the virtue of patience and perseverance. Pokémon Omega Ruby and Alpha Sapphire revealed that 80% of people in the world are assholes, and that said assholes often come equipped with Mega Rayquaza.

These are the most obvious teachings that it has bestowed upon us. But if you delve a little bit deeper, you'll find a hidden layer of gems that will make you wiser, bolder, and Vaiker. Allow me to bestow upon you the invaluable life lessons that the Nintendo 3DS has taught me, and, through the power of bold assumption, therefore taught you, too.


1. Animals are vapid, shallow people

In fairness, animals were never intended to be people to begin with. It's a crime upon both god and nature. But once that line was blurred, we were treated to a world of gossip, bickering and more lost handkerchiefs than an aristocrats' bender.

For one thing, how come nobody in this town seems to have a job, other than the unfortunate few who appear to actually live at their place of employment? If the one human resident goes missing for too long, he returns to a village overrun with weeds. Surely, the goddamn sheep could have done something to prevent that - she doesn't appear to have much else going on in her life.

Animals also seem to love letters. And sure, being sent a lovely letter from a faraway pal is a nice gesture, but if you have to ask a person standing right in front of you for a letter, it a) defeats the purpose, and b) is a clear indication that you don't have very many friends. Then, they can't seem to read the damn things anyway. You wanted to tell your close companion Bill to 'Throw caution to the wind as you embrace the changes riding on the breeze; a telltale whisper that brings forth a new era', but if you want the stupid ducky to decode it, you'll have to dumb it down to 'I like you. You have a good face. Here is a cherry.'


2. Any relationship is possible if you believe enough

Let's face it; you'll probably never get the chance to hang out with LeBron James and Emma Stone. At least, not until you turn on the 3DS and create them yourself, then you can be best buddies forever! You can even coerce them to date one another and get hitched. The resulting baby will probably be named Dexter. You may send him on a journey around the world. LeBron and Emma will be so proud. Don't ever tell any of your friends you did this. Unless LeBron James actually is your friend, in which case, you probably didn't read this far.

We all have our ideal partner waiting out there for us, somewhere, and we're often convinced it's some celebrity who would 'totally dig us if they just got the chance to meet'. You could either pursue this in real life with messy legal ramifications, or save yourself the effort, the emotional turmoil and the lengthy jail sentence by dating a Mii facsimile.

You may even learn something, after all. For example, once upon a time if you told me that Miranda Priestley from The Devil Wears Prada would consider romancing Topher Grace while he was inexplicably dressed as a farmer, I'd dismiss that as impossible. Now, I know the truth, and there is indeed love in the air.

...Though I'm mildly concerned about ramifications from her besmirched ex, Walter White. Topher's best course would be to tread lightly. Or beat Walter in a rap battle. That's always an option.


3. You will be rewarded for being attractive

In Pokémon X and Y, you're finally provided with the opportunity to customise the appearance of your trainer. You can give them silly little hats and hairstyles, and make your avatar seem really unique. Alas, they'll always have the same goofy grin on their face, and are perpetually locked in as a prepubescent child. I wanted to make my trainer an overweight Asian man with a mighty beard, but the option was not available to me. Maybe in gen 7.

One of the curious mechanics is that your wardrobe choices will actually have an effect on how people view you in the world of Kalos. Strutting the streets in a beanie and an old coat? You'll be paying full price for everything, and barred access from the coolest places like some kind of leper. Snazzify yourself up, and you'll be treated like royalty. When the cab driver first discounts your fare because of how hot you look, you feel flattered. ...And then, a little bit creeped out, because, like, you're eight years old or whatever. Don't get back in the cab.

And the less said about Mr. Bonding, the better. The mysterious fade out as he 'teaches' you is bad enough, but the fact that you have to look stylish enough in order for him to gift you with the final O-Power (which is, ironically, the power to hatch eggs) is simply cruel. Why are we not good enough for you anymore, Mr. Bonding? Aren't we pretty anymore? Why won't you bond with me?!

... Eight year olds, Dude.


4. Raising a Nintendog is much easier than raising a real dog

As the wise Milhouse Van Houten once opined, 'Dogs are outstanding!', and indeed, they are. They'll be your friends for life, giving you the unconditional love of a true companion. In return, however, you must do the following things: feed them, walk them, train them, clean up after them, and just generally take care of them. As though they were your hairy offspring.

Sound like too much work? Then grab yourself a copy of Nintendogs. For a fraction of the cost of one real pooch, you've now scored yourself dozens of puppies. And, yeah, some cats too, if you're some kind of sick freak.

Sure, you are supposed to do the same kind of things; the feeding, training and poop collecting, but you could just as easily not. On several occasions, I've left my Nintendogs unattended for months on end, but when I walk through that door, there they are! They're filthy and famished, sure, but they aren't emaciated corpses scattered about the living room, and the husky hasn't killed the pug out of hunger or boredom.

Plus, these dogs can make you money! Enter them in contests, fling a Frisbee off into the distance, and watch in amazement as your Jack Russell Terrier does an incredible midair flip before coming down with the disc in his mouth. Aww, little Mr. Pepper won you a trophy! Let's reward him by sending him off to the doggy hotel (read: the pound) so you can buy one of the more expensive dog breeds.

It's a cruel world in there, but I haven't been bitten once, so I can't be doing too badly. Besides, if Animal Crossing is to be believed, these dogs are about as intelligent as the Kardashians. They probably haven't even noticed.


5. Combining two people to see what their baby will look like always leads to tears

I think a divorce is the best course of action here.

Friday, January 9, 2015

5 amiibo Crossovers That Would Be Awesome


Nintendo have proven time and time again that they rather enjoy your money. Apologists may try to dismiss this concept, but ask anyone who ever bought the first version of a Nintendo handheld. After about a year, a better version is released, causing you to jettison the old one like it was a discarded tissue. A $150 tissue that your parents probably bought you for Christmas, no less.

Their latest foray into dollar gobbling comes in the form of the amiibos. For those unfamiliar, they are small, Skylanders-esque figurines that you can touch onto the Wii U gamepad to interact with certain games. The most fleshed out example so far is their implementation in Smash Bros. Place your cute little Kirby amiibo onto the gamepad, and voila! He's in the game, as an AI-controlled character that you get to train like a pet. You teach him, of course, by beating the everlasting shit out of him. In response, he grows meaner and more ruthless with each skirmish, while occasionally giving you presents and trophies. It's the Nintendo cockfighting you've always longed for!

In the case of Smash, there will theoretically be an amiibo for every single playable character, so start saving up now. Then, try and see if you will ever find a single other opportunity to use your Duck Hunt amiibo again. I suggest while on an actual hunting trip, brandishing it whenever your friend misses their target. Be warned, they might actually shoot you for this.

Some amiibos have also had interactivity with other games; Mario Kart allows certain figurines to provide your Mii characters with costumes, while the Zelda-related amiibos give you special items in Hyrule Warriors. And this is where things get interesting: how does one dictate which characters will be compatible with each game? The Mario cast were obvious locks for Mario Kart, but considering you can make your Mii cosplay as Fox McCloud, the alternative opportunities are limitless.

Here are some potential crossovers that would be undoubtedly awesome:


Mario in Wii Fit

For a man capable of doing backflips, springing onto roofs and literally jumping off of walls, Mario sure is a portly fellow. He must be doing some serious binge eating between each adventure. But we can help change things from 'he fat' to 'Wii Fit' by replacing the eerie monochrome trainers with Nintendo's mascot.

Besides, we've known Mario all our lives, we love Mario, we trust Mario. "Let's stretch-a our legs, wahoo!" Mario advises. And so, we stretch-a our legs. "Hoo! Take-a da deep breath." He instructs. Da breath has never been deeper. "Try to keep-a your center of balance within da yellow area - OK?" ...Actually, it's hard to picture that in Mario's voice. This coming from a guy who learnt how to play backgammon from Mario.

The only concern would be whether featuring the famous Jumpman would lead to people actually leaping on the balance board during mini-games. For the record, such a transgression leads to you being automatically booted from the game. That balance board sure doesn't mess around.


Mega Man in Zelda

Link's got all of the tools and the gadgets in the world, who else could have an arsenal wide enough to tackle the vast landscape of Hyrule? Why, Mega Man of course, a hero infamous for stealing the abilities of slain foes like Sylar from Heroes, or Jet Li in The One, or Zynga whenever they make a new game.

The point is, Mega Man has a tool for every situation. Need a melee weapon to mow through legions of minions? Equip the Flame Sword and lay hellfire in your wake. Can't reach that elusive Heart Container? Climb aboard the Rush Jet and zip over with ease. Faced up with a particularly nasty enemy with no apparent weakness? Use the Top Spin, and spin at them like a maniac to cause massive, inexplicable damage. Seriously, Shadow Man, you disappoint me.

And just think of all of the Zelda bosses you've encountered over the years. Sure, completing their dungeon would score you a sweet new weapon in the process, but how much better would it be if you could steal the bosses' own powers? From the Helmasaur King's mighty shielded noggin to Barinade's electrified jellyfish, the range of awesome tools you could have at your disposal is scintillating. Props to any person who activates Gyorg ability to turn into an angry fish. Because that's not quite as cool, obviously.


Pikachu in Metroid

Since their appearance as allies in Smash Bros Brawl, the Internet has embraced the concept of Samus teaming up with Pikachu. Perhaps it's because of Samus' colourful past of enlisting the services of local animals, or something far more complex, but a quick search reveals that fans have fallen in love with the unlikely duo. It also leads you to drawings and fanfiction that take you down the darkest corridors of the human mind, so there's that.

So far, amiibo implementation has never given you anything too hugely different from the typical gameplay experience, but introducing Pikachu as Samus' little adventuring chum could change all that. Imagine if certain areas were only accessible after the little electric mouse. If you could use his voltage to recharge certain weapons. If Pikachu could one-hit KO Ridley for no definable reason other than to bemuse us all. Would purists cry foul at the tie-in? Or did purists already bail out after Other M?

The juxtaposition of the dark, sinister world of Metroid and the cuddly little Pokémon is also an amusing image that could only be topped by the juxtaposition of Metroid with Wario. Would there have been as much fanart of a Samus/Wario crossover? I shudder to think.


Captain Falcon in Star Fox

The obvious route here is for the amiibo to provide aesthetic changes to the Arwing. And though it would no doubt be cool to travel the Lylat system in the Blue Falcon, they should take it further. Much, much further. I'm talking about replacing perennial wingman Falco with Captain Falcon himself.

Can you imagine it? The banter-heavy Star Fox universe improved drastically by Captain Falcon's completely irrelevant one-liners.

Fox: "Just what I need to see. Star Wolf."
Falcon: "Show me your moves!"

Fox: "Falco! Where you going?"
Falcon: "Falcon kiiiiiick!"

Fox: (upon crashing to his death) "Ahhhhhhhhh!!!"
Falcon: "YES."

Perhaps his inclusion could even make the game harder, as he occasionally rams into other ships, friend or foe, while screaming out "Falcon PAWNCH". You'd hate it until he started targeting Slippy, be honest.


The Villager in Mortal Kombat

Okay, so this one strays from the realm of Nintendo IPs, but we all know that the true malice of Animal Crossing's Villager is being limited by the games he's confined to. In a world of hell-bound sorcerers, zombified Shaolin monks, and whatever Mokap's deal was, the Villager would simply thrive. He collects bugs, he collects souls.

His shovel and axe make for obvious weapon choices, but the most exciting concept is trying to work out what his Fatalities would be. Whether he uses his fishing rod to tear a skeleton from its skin, or unleashes an army of angry tarantulas from his pockets upon hapless enemies, his visage would be remembered across the NetherRealm for generations to come.

Just... don't ask me what fighting style he would use. Surely judo would suit his short stature, but he doesn't appear to have great upper body strength. In actuality, he would probably only be able to punch people in the nads, and that technique remains the intellectual property of Johnny Cage.

Monday, December 1, 2014

amiibo and Me

To cap off what has inadvertently become Pokemonth, I thought I'd show you another one of my wee little purchases. As I had alluded to earlier, Nintendo's got a hot new toy on the town in the form of the amiibos. If they were just figurines, I could have resisted. However, the fun integration they have with Wii U games shows a lot of promise. I've only been able to test it out on Smash Bros, but I'm looking forward to seeing what else they are capable of.


That's my boy, Pikachu. With each battle, they grow in level, learning new techniques and traits along the way. After a few skirmishes where I smacked the little yellow guy around, he began to wise up. I came at him with a dashing attack, something he was previously quite vulnerable to, and shock! He sidestepped my assault, grabbed hold of me and flung me off the stage. After the KO, he taunted, just like daddy. Aww. ...Daddy's a dick. And now he is too. I love him.

Anyone else investing in the amiibo frenzy? If so, who did you select? A marvellous Mario? A legendary Link? An alliteration-absent Wii Fit Trainer? Show us your haul!

Sunday, November 30, 2014

#0082: Pokemon Sapphire Version



Have you bought your copy of Omega Ruby or Alpha Sapphire yet? I sure have, and I've been playing that sucker to my heart's content. I can never decide which generation of Pokemon is my favourite, but the third is a strong contender. The locales of Hoenn are vivid and interesting, the story and enemies are probably the series' best, and so many huge mechanics were added that changed the metagame immensely. Now that I have the remake in my possession, I thought I might pass this classic on to a new owner. After all, I also own Ruby as well, and effectively triple dipping on this game felt redundant. Also, kind of delicious when phrased that way.

The moment you fired up Pokemon Sapphire Version, you knew you were living in the new generation. An enormous colour palette! Four Pokemon battling at once! A sombrero-wearing duck creature!! Holy hell, were we truly ready? Early in the game, you see a couple of Machoke moving furniture. This, to me, was simply exhilarating. In previous generations, non-battle sprites were just ambiguous fairies/monsters/flowers/puddles, whereas here, it's as it should be: a scary, artery-brandishing behemoth. You approach it meekly, staring at it in awe. 'Guaaaffaaaahhh!' it roars at you. Possibly because you stepped on its foot.

Soon, you meet your new neighbour and rival. if you chose the male character, your neighbour will be the girl, May. I like to call her Haruka, because that's her Japanese name and I think it suits her. If you chose the female protagonist, you'll get the boy, Brendan, next door. I like to call him Douche, because he's an absolute douche.

As the story progresses, you'll do battle with the nefarious Team Aqua, who plan to cover the planet in water. Consequently, on the sister game, your adversaries come in the form of Team Magma, who, as you could appreciate, intend to do the opposite. The other team will act as foils to these dastardly plans, though frankly, I always thought the Magmas had the more wicked intentions. I mean, seriously - Team Aqua floods the world, okay, we take a leaf from Kevin Costner's book, and become a society of pirates. Team Magma turns the whole world to arid, dry land? Fuck that shit. I've been living in the desert for seventeen years, and it's shithouse. You think you can handle it, you try spending one Christmas in the summer. You'll forsake Christianity real fast. And I still haven't seen a single Regirock out here.


Anyway, in memorium of... wait, memorium isn't a word? That's really awkward. It's like the time I pronounced the word vehemently as it's spelt. Well, whatever. In memory of Pokemon Sapphire, I thought I would share with you an excellent poem I have formulated (just now) on my favourite Pokemon from this generation.

A-hem.

His crest is red
His body blue
Should he strike
You'll have nothing to do
But fear not, old salt
For his name is Swellow
He shan't attack you
He's a friendly fellow


He flies with great speed
And exquisite grace
His talons are sharp
I like his face
He wins in battles
He wins at life
He won many contests
That won him a wife


Special attack is abysmal
Defenceless is he
Not a physical threat
And sub-par HP
But oh, is he fast
Just watch him go
He makes the swiftest
Appear sluggishly slow


Zip, zip, zip!
So agile and clever
He's an Aerial Ace
Who shall always Endeavour
So come watch the show
Fill the whole auditorium
We honour you, Swellow
At least in memorium


...The FUCK, Internet?!

Friday, November 21, 2014

Diancie, or: how I am still addicted to 'video game perfection'


Are you familiar with this sparkly little character, by any chance? It's called a Diancie, and it's the latest in a long line of special promotional Pokemon that are not normally available in-game. Ever since the first generation of the franchise, Nintendo have locked away at least one special little critter, and though the means of distribution have changed over the years, the gist is still the same: join in, or miss out.

Diancie is the first of three special Pokemon for the sixth generation of games, and in order to get it, you have to go into a participating retailer and grab a code. Redeem the code, collect your Diancie in-game, shove it in a PC box, and wiggle with giddiness that your perfect Pokedex streak remains intact. In Australia, the promotion is running from November 10th to the 27th. Once the date is over, the codes can no longer be redeemed. That's fine, obviously, because all of the previous promotional Pokemon were also only available for a limited time.

What makes things different, this time, is the code distribution method. As I alluded to, the way you've gotten these Pokemon has changed over the years. In prior games, you needed to simply connect to the Wi-Fi network of participating retailers, collect the Pokemon wirelessly, and knick off. There I was, the creepy guy sitting out in front of EB Games with a 3DS in his lap, hacking into their system to collect a Meloetta.

Obviously, the simplicity of this wireless method meant you never really realised the sheer scape of how popular Pokemon still is. Because you never interacted with anyone, and there was an unlimited supply on-hand. It was nothing like the old days, where I was standing in line at a shopping centre for hours - an eleven year old boy at the peak of Pokemon's hype - to collect my very own Mew during PokeTour 1999.


I didn't rush into retailers on November 10th, because obviously, I'm a mature adult in his mid-20s, and I had plenty of time. The previous giveaway this generation, of a shiny Gengar, was a smooth operation: get in, awkwardly ask for the imaginary ghost in the children's video game, and strut out.

On the 14th, I had a day off, so I decided I'd take the half hour walk to the nearest EB and snag my Diancie. It's free, after all, and I'm still a completionist at heart. For some reason, I felt the need to call in advance and ask about it. You know. Just in case. ..And they told me that they had run out.

Here's where the game has changed, you see - each of these codes they give away, is effectively one Diancie. There's no 'connect to the network and generate your own'. These codes are... actual... freaking... Diancies... And there weren't any left. I called the various EB's and JB Hi-Fi's in my local area, as well as the ones in the CBD. All of the nearby stores were completely out, and the major branches had gotten a second batch from a Nintendo representative a day ago... that had also run out.

And this is when I realised that there is something in me that I can't quite explain. To simplify it, I have an unhealthy addiction with perfection in video games. Sometimes, in a gameplay sense: In Super Mario 3D Land, your file progression is marked by stars. If you've finished the game without dying five times, those stars are shiny. I couldn't risk not having those shiny stars, so on every near-death, I quit the game before it was too late. I was playing Mario ultra-cautiously for menu aesthetics.



Sometimes, my addiction grows so frantic and ugly, like it did when I was trying desperately to find the Sonic Generations collector's edition, that I'm calling up every retailer, and visiting other ones physically to try and acquire the elusive item. Not because Sonic Generations was a hard game to get, but because I felt this sense of duty as a Sonic fan to get this particular, ultimate package. In the end, I gave in to my demons and paid some bastard on eBay $527.32 to get it. That's $362 more than its RRP. I paid half a grand to validate my fandom.

And here we sat again. My video game perfection causing a feeling of great unease. Because I've gotten every Pokemon up to this point, and if I miss out on Diancie, my whole collection is ruined. Every subsequent game will have a blank spot at #719 because I didn't get in quickly enough. How is this logical thinking, exactly?

I won't beat around the bush; through constant calling and prodding, I ascertained that the Nintendo rep made the rounds on Thursdays. I called JB Hi-Fi yesterday to see if they had gotten any in. The staff member asked me, in a rather serious tone, if I was going to be able to get there that day. I answered in the affirmative, and he said that was the only way I could get one, because they had only received a limited supply. I got in, I got my Diancie, I did a little dance(y?), and I had scratched that itch once again.

Obviously, it wasn't quite so bad this time, but how long will it be until I feel that urge again? It's debilitating, in the sense that it makes me make rash, stupid decisions. Frankly, if you put the word 'limited' or 'collector's' or 'exclusive' on anything I like, it will make me consider it. For example, I recently heard about the rush on the first wave of amiibos. And though they will get more in stock, I really wanted to be able to use one when I first play Smash Bros in December.

And so... Well, you'll see.


私の友達


はじめまして、僕はフシギバナ様。 日本人よ。 僕は面白いけど親切だ。そうしてとてもハンサムだね。
どうぞよろしく。

えっと。。。一緒にたべませんか!!

...That was so hard to type on my phone. Never again. Say hello to Fushigibana, also known as Venusaur. I got drunk a few weeks ago and bought him online.

I don't know what to do with him now, but my god, is he pretty. Resisting the urge to make an unboxing post... Hnnnnnnnggggg.... ダメ。。。

Thursday, March 14, 2013

#0068: Pokemon Silver Version


In April of 2011, I decided to do an odd thing. I scavenged about the closet, unearthed my Game Boy Advance, and popped in my old Pokemon games. Did I intend to play them, seeking a surge of nostalgia? No, not exactly. After all, the first two generations have since been faithfully recreated, and I'm actually still in the middle of my Heart Gold run-through. In actuality, I kind of wanted to look through my legions of old Pokemon, just for shits and giggles.

I'd sunk about 200 hours into Pokemon Silver Version, and boy, what a time I'd had. Back in the days when Pokemon was still the exciting thing, the second edition certainly delivered on all fronts: new Pokemon, new abilities, the revelation that your darling little princess Clefable may actually have a wang... It was all terribly exciting, wasn't it?

And so, I fondly surveyed the contents of my PC boxes. My Typhlosion, the starter Pokemon who would join me as I trekked through this uncharted new region... Reddy, the cleverly named shiny crimson Gyarados... and of course, my Quagsire was in there somewhere. I adored that Quagsire. She was dopey as fuck, with this great big grin on her face; a veritable Brad Garrett of Pokemon.

But where in the hell was she? She wasn't among my party. She wasn't sitting in the Water or Ground-type boxes. She wasn't even on a vacation over on my Crystal version. She was nowhere. ...My Quagsire... was dead. In my misery, I wrote her a touching eulogy.

Pokemon Silver claimed my Quagsire far before her time. She was going to be celebrating her eleventh birthday this year. She was so beautiful. She loved to Rollout. So young, so innocent.

In memory of Nautica the Quagsire
2000-2011



Fast forward to today, and I thought I'd pay the Johto region another visit. But it would seem as though the cruel hand of fate has plagued this once pristine part of the world, and claimed another victim. And this time, that victim was the Johto champion, ANTHONY, trainer #15939.

Yes, it would seem as though the entire save file has disappeared, and with it, the Typhlosion, the Umbreon, the Crobat... Every last one, gone. Professor Oak approaches, but he's practically unrecognisable. He once lived an existence of great joy and unbridled passion, reviewing the progress ANTHONY had made on his Pokedex. But now, he is a shadow of his former self. He asks you for your name. He mutters something about the world of Pokemon. He hands you the ghastly corpse of a Chikorita. Then he shuffles off into the dark recesses of his dilapidated laboratory.

The world that once looked so vivid seems to only contain 56 colours, all of them melancholy. New Bark Town has only a few scattered inhabitants, who are all wandering back and forth aimlessly, their eyes glassy and pixelated. Strangely, though, people seem to be going about their day in much the same way they had back at the turn of the millennium.


They tell you about recently discovered Pokemon like Marill and Natu. They talk about the exciting new technology of the Poke Gear. They're listening to Sisqó as if he were relevant. However, mentioning the name ANTHONY only receives confusion and indifference. Why, it's as if you've jumped back in time to a perverse version of the past, one where ANTHONY never received that Cyndaquil, never bested Lance at the Pokemon League, and never prevented the uprising of Team Rocket.

He's been erased from the memory of everyone in the world! ...Which is odd, considering that he's also the champion of Kanto, Hoenn and Unova. He would have been the Sinnoh region champion as well, but I decided to name him MR. BUTTS instead. Hahaha! Butts.

I shan't dally for long. Clearly, my very presence here, with my fancy new iPod and Terrence Ross Raptors jersey, is causing suspicion. I'm a practical paradox, and my Game Boy Advance isn't backlit, so I can't make out a damn thing anyway. Tears in my eyes, I take out my Poke Ball, and release my Swellow, ready for it to fly me away from this horrible place.

Unfortunately, Swellow doesn't exist yet. The save file is now corrupted, and New Bark Town is renamed HW!%RRR!PWWW. Fuck.

I hope you're out there somewhere, ANTHONY. Still farming those Charmanders. Still giving those Pokemon the horrible movesets you thought were so tactful as a twelve year old. Still nicknaming Hoothoot as Lugia, and trading it to unsuspecting children. You old dick, you.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

The world works in mysterious ways

While I was at work last night, I was paid a visit by my sister, who had brought with her my early birthday present. And you might be surprised to see what it was...


Coincidence? Entirely. But an awesome coincidence? You bet!

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Your First Pokémon

It's Valentine's Day today, and more importantly, the birthday of the late, great Steve McNair, and as such, today is too important to merely dismiss with little more than a eulogy for a typewriter.

So, today, we shall reminisce about one of our first true loves. ...Do you remember your first Pokémon?


Bulbasaur was my first Pokémon. It did not get past the first day, unfortunately. I was trying to formulate a clever nickname for it, and clumsily typed in Bulba(PKMN) by accident. Somehow, my thumb then landed upon the start button, and though by all accounts it sounds almost purposeful, I really did not intend to have a Bulbasaur named Bulba(PKMN).

...So I restarted my game. Bulba(PKMN) was no more.

The second Bulbasaur, who I wisely decided to leave unnamed, fared much better. It schooled Gary's Charmander with ease, not even needing assistance from the Potion that I apparently kept in my computer.

And so, me and my Bulbasaur travelled the land. All the while, we seeked other mighty Pokémon to join our six-man posse. And of course, this was back before we all knew about which Pokémon were good, and which were crappy. Toting a Rattata, Pidgey and Caterpie, I was most definitely not an impressive sight to see. I was one of the sad, pitiful fools who learnt the hard way that a wild Metapod knows only how to Harden. What a god-forsaken battle that was, I can scarcely remember who won (oh yeah, not me).

Later, I finally saw fit to name my newly-evolved Venusaur. As the harbinger of all things mighty and grassy, I dubbed that warty mofo Leaves.


Having somehow managed to defeat all eight Gym Leaders, Leaves and I had finally hit the plateau. Quite literally. For we were at the Indigo Plateau. Though not entirely literally, because then we would have actually physically hit the plateau, and that would surely have been pointless.

Armed with a tactfully woeful and simply foolish team, Leaves and I would tackle the Elite Four. Articuno and Zapdos were crucial that day. Leaves held its own in the fray. Vulpix did absolutely nothing, but it looked very pretty. Historic records are hard to find of those epic battles, because a fateful encounter with a MISSINGNO. led to a virus in the Pokémon League computer. Or maybe it was hacked. I can't be sure.

The point is, I would become champion. And, like any great champion, my reign would be surrounded with a great deal of controversy. I burst into the delicate ecosystem of the Cerulean Cave, and killed various rare fauna before snaring the mutated lab creation Mewtwo within the experimental Master Ball.

I had previously considered catching a Weedle in this ball, but cooler heads prevailed. To the victor go the spoils!

But I wanted more. I wanted to be the most powerful trainer in the land, but I didn't want to work for it. I would seek out that same MISSINGNO. and, through some sort of wicked magic I can't decipher, battling it multiplied the seventh item I had been carrying by the hundreds. It took two attempts to get this right, because the first time I had a bicycle there. It was a really awkward moment when hundreds of bicycles shot from out of my pants. Good thing Cinnabar Island only has a population of about eight, otherwise people might have started asking questions.

So now, I had a jackpot of Rare Candies. Their properties caused Pokémon growth to accelerate, and as their name implied, they were harder to find than the McDonald's Lowly Worm. However, I had outsmarted the system. In my possession, they were practically Common Candy. I force-fed Leaves the lollies by the shovel-load, and now, the Level 100 Venusaur was the pride of Canada, worthy of joining the greats.


The next few years would pass without incident, until I made a visit to Goldenrod City in Johto. I left Leaves at the daycare like a responsible parent while I played the slots at the Game Corner, and when I returned, I made a shocking discovery.

Leaves was a broad. And she had been knocked up by an Ampharos.

I of course sued the daycare for negligence, and after months that seemed like merely 5355 steps, Leaves had given birth to two sons; Leaves II and Shrubs. At least something good came out of such a dark encounter. To this day, however, I've never trusted a sheep, for fear that it'll sprout a ruby orb from its tail, shed its fur, and make love to my plants. Note, I said PLANTS. With an 'L'.

Leaves has since retired, and recently celebrated her thirteenth birthday. She watches as these fancy new creatures come and go, and as each bright-eyed trainer receives their very own first Pokémon from a professor named after a tree. These are the golden years, she thinks, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Every now and then, she gathers with her old friends, and reminisces over the good old days, and their glorious reign as supplement-taking behemoths. The Ninetales, formerly the dainty Vulpix, still a looker at this ripe old age. The Dragonite, who destroyed all in his path, and has the history of arrests to prove it. All except the Alakazam, who was a know-it-all and a prick. Plus, Leaves could hardly ever understand a word he said.


...Do you remember your first Pokémon?
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