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Philip Allen
03 June 2011 @ 01:21 am

Oh no! The Canadian Postal Service is on strike! Whatever shall I do? How will I mail threatening letters to celebrities now? Why I’d have to use D.H.L., U.P.S., Fed-Ex, or Purolator, etc.

Let me give you some idea of how antiquated the postal service is: I don’t even use e-mail anymore. I factually receive more letters marked “Current Resident,” than I do to my own name. I average one letter to the wrong address a month. I don’t even know how those statistics are even possible. No one’s mail box is exactly overflowing these days. There has to be about a dozen or so letters going out to a street per day. So one in every three hundred and fifty or so letters goes to the wrong house. Then it magically becomes my duty to re-mail the letter because I-don’t-get-paid-enough-Jr.-shorts can’t do their jobs correctly. Tampering with the mail is a federal crime, so by throwing it in the recycling bin I’m becoming a criminal, no matter what the contents of the letter are (Here’s a hint: it’s not money). It’s the mail carrier’s responsibility in the first place, but they’re in no way held responsible for their neglect. Looking at the stats, I’d say it’s virtually impossible for them to even do their jobs 100% correctly over the course of their careers, which means every mail carrier in Canada is a criminal. Yet they’re demanding more money to do something which no longer needs to be done. That takes balls, which makes their shorts wearing a poor choice.

Everyone knows the postal service is a cushy job. All you have to do is carry a bag around, read the address on an envelope, and put it in the corresponding mail slot. Plus: you get to bone housewives while their husbands are at work. 90% of the mail these days is junk anyway, so you could just dump your entire satchel down the sewer and call it a day. Considering the insane amount of personal details business are accumulating these days, I don’t know why I’m still getting flyers to sell my mortgage my own house when they know I don’t own my own house. The fact I’m in a apartment or basement suite kind of testifies to that.

Working in the post office itself looks less complicated that working in Burger King. You’ve got your scales, you’ve got your charts, what more do you need? Your on-the-job training is being able to read tiny numbers with your eyes. It’s like watching six year old kids play pretend store. 88% of your job is telling old ladies they need wrap their package up properly before mailing it away. If that same old lady tries the whole, “I’m going to pay in pennies,” routine, stamps are the only thing that costs less than a dollar. You’ve got their pennies counted before they’re out of the purse and you’re on to the next asshole. It’s not like you have daily quotas either, so you could have that line backed up out the post office like you’re the D.M.V.. If anyone give you shit, just look over at the wanted posters on the wall, scratch your chin and say, “You look kind of familiar…” then reach for the phone.

The things they bitch about are insane. They basically don’t want to do their jobs. They want to work outdoors, since it’s the only job where you get to walk around unsupervised, but they don’t want to see any kind of animal. If you have a tea-cup poodle on a leash in your yard, you’re not getting your mail, you’re getting a call from animal control. They hate having to deliver magazines, DVDs, or anything not regulation letter size. The entire magazine industry is going under, so subscriptions are in shorter supply, plus Canada doesn’t even have a by-mail Netflix service.

As for consistency: I’ve seen letters of mine taken by hand and placed into the corresponding slot by the lady at the post office after the letter was weighted, and the correct stamps were paid for and affixed. Never fucking got there. I waited months, and never heard back, over a matter involving quite a fair bit of money. I had to call the company on the receiving end directly so they could verbalize their shrugs at me and tell me to fill out the same forms with the same information. Of course, they’d have to mail the forms to me, so I could mail them back, because I’m apparently living in the fucking Stone Age. Long story short: I got jack shit, minus postage. That’s what sucks the most about the mail: the waiting. You’re expect to wait five to six weeks on some things, but by that time you’ve likely forgotten you ever sent away for mail at all. If it doesn’t arrive, how would you know?

This very day, we had to inquire about why we weren’t receiving our son’s magazine subscription. According to online and phone services, everything’s kosher, but it’s not showing up at the door. Why? Because fuck me, that’s why. It’s an excuse I hear often.

I moved in recent months and didn’t opt-in for the change of address service at the post office, since it only last six months. I instead changed my information with every service I could think of that I wanted to get mail from. I’ve gotten about seven letters in five months, mainly from the government telling me they want taxes and all of the personal information about myself that they already should have, because they’re the government. You want me to fill out my Census? Go look at my facebook profile like all my other would-be stalkers. Don’t pretend you’re not paying someone to do that already. Facebook knows more about me than my own country, and they’re selling all that data to organ thieves in Bolivia.

Mail theft is a huge problem, especially in my area of the country. Any time I’m being mailed a new bank card, there’s a good chance someone’s going to clean out my entire back account. What’s being done about that? Jack shit. It’s not the postal service’s problem, even if they’re the ones stealing or looting my mail. My point is the mail service is basically designed to give people newer insight into dementia. When your Grandma’s screaming about how people are stealing from her at the home, that’s basically you with the postal service, and just like your Grandma, you can’t prove shit. It’s a victimless crime, except for you. You think some ace detective is going to stake out your corner mail drop-off for a week to catch the criminal? He’s got minorities to shoot.

So if the mail doesn’t get there? Who can tell what went wrong? It could have been stolen; it could have been dropped; it could have gone to the wrong house; it could have had the wrong postage; or the mail carrier could have looked at the handwriting on the envelope, decided they didn’t like what they were seeing, then rolled it into a doob. There goes your passport. It’s not like a pizza delivery service where if you don’t get your pizza in thirty minutes you can call and say, “Where the fuck is my pizza?” then some poor kid gets fired. Then he goes and lights a doob.

Have you ever mailed away for something and then not gotten it? It’s a terrible feeling. I remember sending away for a StarCom Catalogue when I was a wee lad. I waited months and months patiently. And months. And more months. Then I turned into an adult and started drinking to numb the pain. Or else you get something, but it’s insanely late, or the package is badly damaged, or it’s even clearly been opened. Have you ever looked at your mail and seen that the border service opened it, and rifled through it, with a note telling you, “Fuck you, we went through your things.” What the hell is that about? I’ve gotten issues of my now extinct ToyFare magazine like that, a magazine about action figures and whimsy, and they went through it like it was fucking contraband. Every issue of my magazine also arrived late, despite the fact it was supposed to reach my door the same time it hit shelves. I could download the issue online and read through it all weeks before it would arrive at my door, just in time for the next issue!

Then of course there’s the notes on your door telling you to go to the post office and pick up your package. They could have knocked, or rang, and given you the package, but slapping that note on your door is easier somehow than carrying it from their mail truck. They’d have to be ninjas to not get my attention at the door, but then they expect me to drive across town and sign out for a package I don’t clearly remember ordering, and never expected. Of course, it’s worse when it’s for someone else at your household, and you were the one home at the time. The write down the time just so you know who to blame, and they are most assuredly blamed. That’s why they have the notepads to begin with: to fuck with you in your own house. The looks you get when those notes are discussed. The questions that arise. If doubts about you didn’t exist before with your loved ones, they will sure as hell crop up after. It’s a mindfuck. They’ll be looking sideways at you later while cutting up vegetables, wondering what you’re plotting, with the knife in their hand.

What really gets me is how traditionally difficult it is to break into the postal service. You’ve got to know somebody and be blood, and a minority, and speak French to get in. Once you’re in though, it’s smooth sailing, because these fuckers get paid more than I do. I’m on my feet all day, I’m lifting heavy items, I’m out in the pouring rain, and I’m dealing with the public like them, and they’re getting paid more than me. Plus: they’re striking. I can’t strike for shit. Fuck them.

I’ve got a baby on the way, and with babies come cards of congratulations. Those aren’t coming now, or if they are, he’ll be seventeen by the time they make it to my door.

What truly makes me an insane person is the belief that somewhere there’s an office with my letters in them, waiting to be delivered, and that if I go down to the office I’ll receive a veritable treasure trove of goodies. I’ll get dirty magazines and graduation money, and letters telling me that Doc Brown isn’t be dead, he’s just stuck back in Ol’ West.

So basically: fuck the mail. It’s criminally evil, and so are the people who deliver it. Them and their short-shorts, toned legs and bushy moustaches. I hope they get fucked over by their own unions and the government at large, because if I’m not getting mine, why the hell should they get theirs?

Philip Allen
01 June 2011 @ 02:03 pm

Activision is trying to get players to pay for a monthly subscription to their Call of Duty franchise, which is evil. Activision, by it’s very nature, is an evil company. Activision owned Infinity Ward released Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, the most successful video game of all time, and the people responsible were promptly robbed of their appropriately huge bonuses, fired, and sued.

Evil as they are: they could be eviler. Paid subscriptions aren’t nearly enough. Activision own Blizzard and the World of Warcraft franchise, which forces players to pay a monthly subscription to be called a noob, kicked out of their guild, and slain by an orc. Yet, WoW has a booming second economy of Gold Farming, wherein “players” will accumulate huge sums of in-game currency and then sell that fake money for foldin’ money (usually in Chinese Yuan). It’s a million dollar industry. Of course, having control of the game means Activision has control of the currency. There’s absolutely nothing stopping them from selling fake money on the side. They could be doing it outright like some free-to-play games out there, but then they’d suffer a backlash from loyal players. This is game where people will mass suicide their avatars in front of the auction house for any reason. Any reason whatsoever. Still, those people killing themselves are paying to kill themselves. I’d charge them extra for the feature.

They could also be controlling the illicit secondary market. Just set up a fake shop with a Chinese front and sell gold to people. The added advantage is that none of the money will go to the starving Chinese, since everything’s coming directly from the company itself with only the illusion of a middle-man. Who the fuck is going to say boo to them? No one would ever suspect, unless they’re being paid to suspect something, and Activision is the one paying investigators to root out gold farmers online. It’s the perfect crime, because it’s not even a crime, it’s an evil business model.

Philip Allen
01 June 2011 @ 01:39 pm

On the 360, you’re able to earn Achievements with each game. Earn them all, and they’ll go up on your board as having 100% completion. There’s Achievement whores out there who’ll obsessively play video games just to earn this kind of status. I was looking over L.A. Noire’s Achievement list, and noticed how it was perfectly reasonable to get 100% if you put enough effort into it. Then I noticed the bonus content. You can buy a copy of the game in store, finish the game, and still not get 100% because you didn’t pay for and download the extra content. For instance, Red Dead Redemption by itself has 1000 points/50 Achievements. Then the downloadable content bumps that up to 1500 point/95 Achievements. There’s sometimes a window of opportunity to get 100% before the downloadable content goes online, but L.A. Noire shipped with the bonus Achievements in the list. Only: you couldn’t download the content yet online. You had to have bought the game at Gamestop and gotten the bonus content with that, and then have bought a second copy of the same game at Wal-Mart with it’s own  exclusive content. Two weeks later, Rockstar then released both versions of the content online at a price, some of which came free with the game at the exclusive retailers.

Of course, all of this could have come free with the game itself, but publishing companies want your money. Offering paid content ensures that even if you trade in your game, they’ll recoup the losses of the re-sale to the secondary market customer who otherwise would have bought it at shelf-price, with the profits going in their pockets instead of the retail outlet. With video stores like Blockbuster going out of business, you’re less likely to see people renting video games, which will further increase publisher’s profits as more people will buy their own copies. Yet, some games have quick play-throughs, with little re-playability. L.A. Noire takes about a week to finish, if you have a life, so you could easily rent it and get the same experience as having bought it, at a fraction of the cost. Publishers tease customers with their “bonus” content. You’re not going to buy the content if you’re not going to buy the game, obviously, and if you don’t buy the content you’re not getting the full experience. So some people are going to buy the game and hold off on trading it in in case new content drops, and there’s always prolonged media reports about new content, lasting up to a year after the game’s release, at which time the next game in the series will come out and the cycle will begin all over again.

Plus, usually a year later, popular games will release hard copies of the downloadable content in “Game of the Year” packages, at a reduced bundled price in stores. The new version will cost the same as the old version when it launched, while the old version gets a severe price drop, which means that they absolutely could have shipped the original game with all the content at no extra cost to you, the consumer.

Now, the new thing is about to hit. Rockstar just game out with the L.A. Noire Rockstar Pass, which means that you can buy all their downloadable content at a reduced price rather than buying it all separately. However, since you could have bought an exclusive copy of the game at a retailer with some of the content already in it, you’re paying for a product you already own.

Also: the restructured Infinity Ward (everyone was fired/quit after making the best-selling game of all time) is releasing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3 in November, along with the Call of Duty: Elite paid subscription. Say you’ve already paid for the game. If you’re on the 360, you’ve paid for online multiplayer. Now you’ll be paying monthly for a full-feature online multiplayer. Details are sketchy, but basically by paying $8 a month you can take videos, follow stats, and get access to new maps. Now: all those features except for maps are already free in the game. Activision makes you pay far up the ass for new maps, even if they suck so very, very hard. Every map they release is basically a repaint of an old map. Here is what they all look like:




Two opposite sides with three paths leading across, and you’re expected to go straight down the middle (just like an orgry). I just spoiled the otherwise disappointing experience for you and saved you $15 in the process. If only I had been there when you lost your virginity. This pattern is true for the maps Zoo, Hotel, Convoy and Stockpile in the Escalation Map Pack for Black Ops, which is 4/4. Plus, you’re guaranteed at least one snowy terrain map. 

They basically found a way to make you pay even more for those new maps, plus tagged on some bells and whistles. It’s like having a club membership you pay for every month, only at this club you get called racial slurs and tea bagged. So maybe it’s exactly like your club membership.

Philip Allen
31 May 2011 @ 04:27 pm

This was in my inbox:

Black City

HOLY SHIT! I better get on this. I mean: look at those gleaming buildings. They’re gleaming. Do your buildings gleam like that? If not, you need this game.

To recap: they’re trying to get me to shell out another $39 to buy the exact same game I already own, only this one is Black! It’s the same logic used to get people to buy new iPods and MacBooks. It’s the same iPod you already have but… wait for it… IT’S A DIFFERENT COLOUR. Never mind that the first thing you do after getting a new iPod is buy a case for it, so you’ll forget what colour it is within days, if not hours.

Is it sad that I’m still talking about iPods when iPads are the new thing, or is it sad that there is a new thing, which is essentially the same as the old thing, only bigger, when the old thing was the “thing” because it was so small. Then they made the iPod Nano, which was even smaller. Then they gave up on that and made the iPod Touch, which was the same as the iPod, but you could touch it, unlike girls in high school. Then they made the iPod Touch into the iPhone, which was the same, but it was a phone. Then they made the iPhone into the iPad, which is the same as the iPhone, only it’s not a phone. So to recap: they killed record stores by getting everyone to go digital, then they decided you shouldn’t even listen to music at all, because music is for wannabe hipsters. They’re doing the same to books now. They going to get you to throw out all the books you own and buy them all again for your iPad, then move on the the next thing. What’s that you say, your iPad needs a new battery? You’re still using an iPad? L-o-s-e-r. Everyone has the iPot now. It’s exactly what it sounds like. What’s that, you still want to read books? TOO BAD, WE GOT RID OF THEM ALL! WESTERN CIVILIZATION IS DEAD!

But I digress. Seriously, every Pokemon game they’ve made in 20 years is the same. Plus their ingenious marketing scheme has always been to release two identical games simultaneously, but give them different colours, then try to scam you into buying both by holding Pokemon hostage. You want to catch them all? You can’t unless you get both copies of the game. You could always try to trade someone online for the Pokemon you’re missing. Want a Level 1 Snorlax? Give me a Level 100 Zerkom. That is how Pokemon trading works: unreasonable 9 year olds cheating pathetic college seniors. You think your friend who owns the other copy of Pokemon will give over his exclusive Pokemon without screwing you over in the process?

Citing the breathtaking architecture worthy of an SNES Mario Paint background as the reason to buy a product isn’t very convincing. We’re dealing with Next-Gen systems right now. The freakin’ new DS is in no glasses 3-D, and they’re pushing their 8-Bit crap on us without any irony. Look at those buildings. There’s like four colours in each building. You think that comes cheap? Some poor Chinese kid had to slave for weeks programming that building, and now he’s in the pit with the rest of his political dissenters. Notice how nothing is to scale. Your sprite could barely fit through that door. It’s like a dog house for people, but, “Black City is efficient. I like that in a place!” Also, property values are low, because it’s called, “Black City,” if you catch my drift. It sounds like a Spike Lee movie title. I’ve never seen a  place I’d like to visit less, and I’ve seen Hell (in the eyes of a puppy dog).

Has anyone ever really caught them all? I mean really? It would require countless hours, multiple games and multiple game systems, and being Japanese, all for the sake of having a poorly animated monsters with all of four attacks. Your Great-Grandma has more than four attacks, and she’s dead (I can attest to this). Plus, there’d be a new game in a year or two, with two copies, that you have to buy both of.

Of course, maybe I’m just looking at this objectively because I’m not 10. That could be the main problem.

Philip Allen
30 May 2011 @ 12:01 am

Anyone who has gone through the educational system knows that English class is a glorified book club. You’re expected to read whatever tripe gets put on your desk and report back with the standard essay. Your teacher will claim to want originality from you, but you’re the 124,928,123rd person to write a paper on a book every student has to read in every school across the country. Originality is impossible. Should you try to obtain this elusive beast in your essay, you’ll have to enter into the fringes of the churning abyss. It’s a fine line to walk, and the slightest misstep will sweep you away under the waters of madness.

Take for example: Moby Dick. The white whale is an excruciatingly prolonged metaphor for God, which is supposed to blow your mind, assuming that you’re appropriately stoned and easily impressed.

So what if Moby Dick really was God? God is just essentially an unobtainable metaphor, and Moby Dick is a metaphor for God. If Captain Ahab were to kill Moby Dick, would that mean he’s factually killing God? Yes. If God’s dead, how can the universe continue to exist? It can’t. The reason Ahab therefore fails in his quest and is dragged down into the briny depths of the Ocean with his hated killer isn’t because of his hubris, but rather because of the essential paradox he creates otherwise. Say that Ahab kills God/Moby Dick, or Godby Dick as I call him: he’s killing the universe’s source of perpetuation. Without God, all time and space collapses in upon itself, creating a vast nothingness. No time means no past. No past means that the events leading up to the universe being destroyed could never have taken place to begin with. Thusly: reality is thrown into a loop until an outcome allows the events to skip over God being killed: so Ahab is killed in Moby’s place. Also: Moby is a giant fucking whale.

Let me explain using Batman:

Batman has to “kill” Darkseid, whom as one of the New Gods is a metaphor for God as well. In a way, Darkseid is Batman’s Moby Dick, but unlike Ahab, Batman doesn’t fuck it up, because he’s Batman. He uses bullets that travel back in time, and in simultaneous retaliation, Darkseid’s Omega Beam eyes “kill” Batman by unsticking him in time, turning him into a living bomb that will accumulate Omega energy until he returns to his point of origin and destroy reality itself.

Fact is, Batman’s dealing in metaphors. The gun he’s using is the metaphor for every gun, and the bullet is the metaphor for every bullet, and he’s just a metaphor for a bat. Fortunately, Batman is also the World’s Greatest Detective and becomes self-aware of the fact that he’s aware of the fact that he’s a metaphor for himself. Thus, he stops Darkseid’s evil plan and saves the universe and we’re aware of all of these facts by proxy because the universe wasn’t destroyed. I mean that literally: Batman would have destroyed the universe by killing Darkseid had he not gone through these steps. So: Moby Dick is “dead,” but we’re still here.

Ahab’s an archtype as well, but he’s not Batman. So, if he killed Moby Dick, that would have been it for everyone. On a subconscious level, Heman Melville must have understood that his own shitty writing would have gotten us all killed and stopped himself short of being awesome. That’s what happened with Samuel Taylor Colridge and Kubla Khan. The opiates wore off and he tore up the original manuscript, because it would have killed us all. In all likelihood, Nathaniel Hawthorne probably saw what Melville was up to and warned him off, while fending off his homosexual advances. This happens in all cases of End of the World prophecies. Recently: the May 21st/2011 apocalypse came and went without us knowing. The world did end, just like it did in Y2K, but the self-correcting nature of reality smoothed everything out. The world is destroyed just by believing it’s destroyed. Factually committing a powerful metaphor like this into print ensures it stays destroyed.

So take that: English Professor, and stuff it in your hipster retro pipe. Is that original enough for you? Arguing with me is like arguing with Batman, it gets you dropped off a building. If I submitted this in Grade 11, you know what it would have got me? An F+. They’ll want to punish my ideas as being too “revolutionary,” but still they’d be too afraid, because they’d know that anything with Batman in it can’t be wrong, except for Batman and Robin.

Philip Allen
22 May 2011 @ 12:19 pm

L.A. Noire is a detective game set in a digital replica of 1940’s L.A., where details such as clothes, cars, and music are all painstakingly and lovingly reproduced to give the game an added sense of realism. On the detective side of things, Cole Phelps doesn’t give a fuck about due process. Out of ten cases I’ve been on, zero have resulted in conviction. Either the cases have been thrown out of court or the suspects have been murdered by my gun.

Let me give an example of how the judicial system works in L.A. Noire: In a recent case, I walked in on a man beating a woman in her hotel room. The man tried to assault me as I moved in to break up the fight, and I knocked him the fuck out. When searching him, I found an illegal switchblade. This is what happened after the man woke up: he was allowed to leave, without charges, and with his switchblade, because the woman didn’t want to press charges. So even though I witnessed the event in progress along with my partner, he assaulted a police officer, and he’s carrying a concealed, illegal weapon, the game wouldn’t let me arrest him. Cole Phelps is a man who will arrest anyone for anything, and by, “arrest,” I mean shoot in the back. One time a suspect started shimmying up a drainpipe to try and get away from me. I was expected to follow him. I chose, instead, to shoot him in the spine, because you don’t run from the 5-0. L.A. Noire teaches us that crime can be eliminated simply by walking up to people and shouting, “L.A.P.D.! Stop right there!” When they proceed to run, they’re resisting arrest, and you can then shoot them. It’s a form of law enforcement with zero recidivism. Unfortunately, everyone runs. You don’t even have to announce that you’re a police officer. You could be going for frosty malt shakes, people will take one look at you in your suit and run for it. So, eventually the entire city will be a barren wasteland of piled corpses.

L.A. Noire also prides itself on using real-life evidence from the Black Dahlia case in it’s game, and gives you the chance to solve the crime on your own. I’ve since learned that the “evidence,” is her social insurance card, and the eventual suspect is probably the most ridiculous one you could find, with no actual ties to the case. The killer also likes to leave clues in the most dangerous places imaginable. A real serial killer would not, for instance, leave a clue on top of a chandelier suspended one hundred feet in the air, only accessible by tight-rope walking. The very chandelier managed to fall from the ceiling as well, costing the city tens of thousands of dollars, and Cole Phelps doesn’t so much as shrug at it. That’s how much he cares about the tax payers. At the end of every case, you’re rated on how much damage you caused. There’s even an achievement if you cause more than $45,000 in damage. There’s another for shooting over 100 criminals. You’re being rewarded for being a bad cop.

The game also has an “intuition” system, where during the interview process you can chose to “ask the community” which answer they chose. The results, usually split 16%/37%/41% shows how people don’t have a clue. I mean that literally, in the proper sense of the word “literally”: they’d don’t have a clue. So at any time, over half the people playing the game don’t know how to play the game. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a “warning shot,” before I read about it in the achievements list. It thought all shots had to be headshots.

Philip Allen
17 May 2011 @ 10:17 pm

I’ve been playing L.A. Noire for a few hours today, and I’ve learned a thing or two about being a cop.

1: When in doubt, always refer back to the Police Manual. It’s hollowed out, and there’s a gun inside.

2: Every call you attend should end with you calling in the coroner.

3: If you find a bloody knife at the scene of a crime, shrug, and leave it in the dumpster where you found it.

4: When questioning a P.O.I., always make sure to call them a fucking liar.

5: If the suspect is Jewish, he’s automatically guilty. It’s his motive for the crime.

6: If the suspect is holding a civilian hostage, don’t try to negotiate with him. Shoot him in the fucking head.

7: Any car you see is now yours by the magic of you taking it, and it’s all nice and legal.

8: All traffic violations are invariably murder investigations.

9: When meeting with a P.O.I. in their homes, show some initiative and connect their water heaters for them.

10: It’s far easier to shoot a suspect in the back than it is to chase after them.

11: Everyone lies to the police all the time, for ridiculous reasons. Shoot everyone.

Philip Allen
16 May 2011 @ 07:29 pm

PS3 users have been without access to online gaming for about a month now and the question remains: what are they missing? For some, they are missing connecting with their friends through their favourite games. Others are missing the unique challenge and rewards that playing against a live opponent across the world brings. Many are missing access to special features and bonuses that games bring with them over an internet connection. All of them are missing the chance of listening to a 12-32 year-old male pretending to hock a loogie onto them through their mics.

At the end of roughly one-in-three matches I play online in Call of Duty: Black Ops for the Xbox 360, I hear someone pretending to spit on me and my fellow teammates after losing a match. It doesn’t matter if we failed miserably, or only trailed behind by one point, we still have to listen to this rude gesture. It’s always impeccably timed as well, so you can’t see which player actually did it. On a good night there’s about 200,000 people online playing. As I said, one in every three matches one person will do it. There’s about twelve people in each match. So about one in every thirty-six people you meet online in Black Ops is a complete douchebag, or 5,555 people total are online at any time. This is an example of poor sportsmanship. Inversely, someone saying something positive like, “Good game guys,” averages once every eleven or twelve games or so. So 1/144 people exhibit good sportsmanship, or 1,388 players total out of 200,000. The remaining players are made up of racist teenagers from the Southern states and one lone, solitary girl.

The weird thing is: how does something like this start trending? Does someone hear it once and decide to copy it, and so on, or is it the same person over and over and over again, every match, win-or-lose? It’s not like online gaming is the forum in which to voice one’s own superiority. Chess masters do not flip over the board and scream, “YEAAAAH, BITCH! HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT?” when they score a checkmate. Why does some dude from Alabama now think he’s a level 100 Warlock because he scored 14 kills/9 deaths in a game of Team Deathmatch? I don’t even give a crap half the time if I win or lose, unless I’ve paid for a contract specifically stating I need to win x game y times.

Call of Duty rewards you for completing unique challenges in a set timeframe, so your objective doesn’t always have to be winning, or rather it could be winning in a certain way. I can come in dead last and still go up two levels inside of a match. Other people aren’t so objective. These are the people who have above level 15 Prestige.

To explain that another way: reaching level 1 Prestige should take a normal person with a normal life over two weeks. These people have Prestieged fifteen times, and are still playing. The came could not possibly have the same allure and interest as when they first started. They’d have to have played the same levels over and over again hundreds upon hundreds of times, just so they could have the honour of adding colours to their clan tags and getting golden guns. Still, they keep playing, keep acting like douchebags, and they’ll still pretend to spit on you when you lose against someone whom the game has become second nature to them. The only satisfaction you can get out of playing them is by sniping them from across the map when you respawn, assuming they aren’t running like cheetas with rabbit’s feet through your hail of bullets, which they are.

Philip Allen
12 May 2011 @ 09:57 am
In light of recent events, it’s easy to overlook certain details. Obama dropped a bomb on us last week, or rather he dropped an O-bomb-a. It had nothing to do with Osama bin Laden, either. It was in regards to his birth certificate feud with the Trump. I believe that he insinuated that Roswell was a hoax, but that may be putting words in his mouth. What he actually said was, “Get up a get up a get-get-get down, Area 51 is a lame joke all around.”


But seriously: if anyone knows the truth about Roswell, it’s Obama. First off, he’s POTUS, and supposedly has access to every classified file and government secret just like in National Treasure 2. He’s a huge nerd, so you know that about two seconds after his inauguration, he cracked open those files. Thirdly, he’s essentially Will Smith.

Smith Independence


Will Smith was in Men in Black, Men in Black 2, and Independence Day. Why would you not go to the nearest person who looks like Will Smith and tell him if aliens are real, and are on planet Earth? Even aliens on the lam will come out of hiding and confess to being aliens if they saw Will Smith. Check and mate!

People were too distracted by Obama being so fucking awesome that the conspiracy nuts forgot to call him on it. They were too busy discrediting how heavily armed SEALS could have executed a kidney dialysis patient at point blank range in his own, unguarded home after a 9 year search and an ongoing investigation that lasted since August. Now those nuts have put out this video:


People everywhere are rushing to the comments section to call FAKE! on this, because they’re not retarded enough to fall for it, but retarded enough to think their “expertise” on CGI graphics are valued by the world at large. Sadly, those same people would call out Obama if he ever released the Osama death picture. We live in a futuristic age where wonderment and belief are raped by society. If you put out a real picture of Osama bin Laden’s death to prove to people he’s dead, they’d still refuse to believe you. They’d say it was doctored somehow. People will look at this alien video and say it’s real. There’s no legitimate way to convince anyone of anything. If you let people poke bin Laden’s dead body with a stick, they’d still say it was an impostor. If you gave them a five year education on D.N.A. testing and let them perform their own test in their own lab, they’d still say it was fake, and burn their lab down in the process. Such is life.

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Philip Allen
06 May 2011 @ 10:50 pm

A few big changes have happened in the world of gaming lately. Namely: motion controlled gaming has been made more readily available across more platform. Once confined to the Wii, it’s now available on the 360 and PS3 for inordinate amounts of money. Incidentally: it still doesn’t work very well. $150 for the Xbox Kinetic will get you a miniaturized replica of HAL that watches you fuck your girlfriend on the couch after the playoffs. The Playstation Move, on the other hand, is a colour changing dildo. Neither of these things should ever be used for gaming in any capacity. Motion controlled gaming is the way of the future… for the next three months. Then people will get bored and they’ll stop making compatible games.

I’m reminded of the headset for the PS2. It was a breakthrough at the time. It was device that enabled the user to speak to a person or persons over the internet, and tell them they’re fags. Today, their standard fare with any hi-def gaming system, but back then, which was like eight years ago: they were a big fucking deal. So big of a deal, that they tried to incorporate the headset into SINGLE PLAYER MODE GAMES. Yes: you would use the headset to speak to the game itself. And it would look at you with confusion, then walk into a wall.

There were a few games you could control using only your voice. SOCOM 2 was one of them. In SOCOM 2, you “controlled” a group of Navy Seals by issuing voice commands. Bear in mind, the game’s vocabulary was lacking, and most commands were in “military-speak.” For instance, a sentence like, “Roger, Blue Falcon, we are Oscar Mike to Foxtrot, over,” should make perfect sense to you, if you wish to play this game. Also: the game didn’t understand you no matter what language you used or how loud you yelled into the mic. You had to have perfect diction in order for the game to understand, and speak at the exact tempo. If not, your team of elite Navy Seals would shoot you. They would do this for any reason whatsoever. For instance, if you were trying to lodge a grenade through a window to take out a sniper, one of your team would misconstrue the command for, “Lay low!” to, “Stand up!” thus they would place their noggins between your grenade and the window. Once their head was blown clear off of their body, another member of the team would decide your clearly placed command for not sticking your head in the way as poor leadership and mutiny on the spot by unloading a shotgun into your spine. Your team, however, shows a clear lack of independent thinking. If you were to say, “Follow me,” and then slide down a ladder, they will simply leap into the thin air and fall to their deaths. Those who do not, will shoot you in the spine like you’re Barbra Gordon. It’s amazing I made it through this game at all, even on Normal.

I picked up another game in the bargain bin one time called, “Lifeline.” It was a game about some bitch in a space hotel that gets overrun by aliens and you have to talk her through the whole thing. It was a lot like the adventure games like Leisure Suit Larry or The Treasure of Monkey Island where you had to issue commands and hope the game understood. Plus: you had to have perfect diction.

Here’s a real scenario:

You tell the girl in the game, “Walk over to the table.”

She’ll say, “I don’t know how to do that.”

You’ll repeat, “Walk over to the table.”

She’ll say, “I don’t see that here.”

You’ll look at the screen, clearly confirm you’re looking at a table, and repeat, “Go to the table.”

She’ll say, “What are you, some kind of pervert?”

This is in the least aggressive scenario. There are alien monsters crawling all over the place, which she either needs to avoid, or fight to the death. When it comes to fighting, you have to tell her how to attack and dodge. It doesn’t go over very well.

This game was created to punish all life for the crime of living, until it doesn’t want to live anymore.

Nowadays, the mic is only used for terrible kareoke in music games, or to call some anonymous stranger a faggot. Years from now, the motion controlled camera will only be used to show pics of your asshole to strangers. That’s progress.