The Xbox One, the PS4, and One Idiot’s Opinion Concerning What Other Idiots Should Do

By Kyle B. Stiff

 The small part of the internet that isn’t devoted to masturbation is on fire with nerd outrage over the new Xbox One! Of course we know that this outrage can only result in people waiting in lines overnight, freezing their asses off in an attempt to throw their money at the new gaming system as soon as possible (while complaining the whole time). But don’t worry: A guy who’s self-deluded enough to consider himself the actual “voice of reason” on the internet has come up with a plan on what to do with that outrage, and yes, it involves saving money and playing a ton of awesome video games, so you better take your socks off for this one because they’re going to get knocked off otherwise.

First off, the Xbox One is out of touch with its era. The PlayStation 4, or the 4Play as Sony is calling it, might make the same mistake as well. The mistake goes kind of like this: A lot of us grew up in an era when technology in general, and gaming in particular, sucked balls. My first gaming system, the Intellivision, had over one million games, but each of those games was a variation on the theme that you were a poor person trapped in a maze built by wealthy psychopaths who were hunting you for sport. Both you and the hunters were displayed as dots on the screen. There was no way to win any of these games; you could only try to survive by running for your life for as long as possible. Me, and plenty of other old people, played these games for hours on end, and we hated every minute of it.

So we always dreamed of a better future. The NES was a lot better, but let’s face it – Mario sucked balls, too. The first Mario game was a new experience and had lots of great features, but it was in no way superior to reading a book while taking a good shit. As each new, upgraded system came out, we got more and more excited because games got so much cooler. We even dreamed of a day when we would someday walk into our room and say, “Computer, load program: Mass Effect,” and then a hologram of Garrus Vakarian would appear and say, “Hey there USER: YOUR REAL NAME, are you ready to hunt some bad guys?!” He would then toss us a futuristic assault rifle and we would proceed to kill monsters that looked eerily similar to the bully who was serial-raping us at school.

Good luck masturbating with this thing looking at you.

But the future isn’t really like that, is it? The shocking thing is that we’re living in the future right now. And I’m not trying to be cynical about it, either. Games have reached an amazing peak! They look good, they’re fun, and the controls aren’t endlessly frustrating. There’s a (somewhat) decent balance between big studios with access to mountains of money making blockbuster titles and games made by loners or small groups with the tools to make something decent on the cheap. Tech-wise, shit isn’t going to get any better than it is now. This might sound ridiculous, but unless tons of money and energy are pumped into the development of a new type of technology on the scale of another Manhattan Project, you’re not going to see anything that will shatter your paradigms. Sorry graphics-whores! Holo-games need money, and it’s a sad fact that the real world is falling apart. We’re running out resources and nations are going bankrupt and corporations are seeing profits only because they use sweat shops and tax-avoidance loopholes. We’re dreaming of colonizing Mars when we couldn’t even return to the Moon if we had to do it to save our species. We may be forced to be satisfied with games staying much the same as they are now… and that’s fine with me.

And that’s why it seems strange to me that the Xbox One is trying to get us all so excited. First off, I’ve been around long enough to know that the fancier systems never work as expected in the first year. All you guys standing in line to buy this shit on the day it comes out are going to end up writing a lot of angry letters (or “tweets” as we say in the future) because there’s going to be problems. Increased complexity equals increased horseshit hassles; that’s the truth about technology.

“Oh hey man. Oh nothin’ much, I was just playing a game until you skyped me and interrupted the fun I was having, no big deal man.”

I’ve heard a lot about the Xbox One responding to voice commands, and let me tell you right now – there is no better way to get your console to come on than an “on” button which responds to your finger. Pushing a button with your God-given appendage is some next-level bleeding-edge tech that cannot be topped. In fact, this may be a lie, but I’m going to go out on a limb and state, for the record, that saying to your Xbox One, “Xbox, turn on,” will not result in your game system booting up with any greater efficiency than saying any other random phrase. The question, “Have you cleaned the litterbox?” followed by the response, “Not this week, no,” will just as often result in your Xbox One booting up, finding a problem with its internet connection, and playing the last anal fisting video you stored on its massive hard drive. Really, creating any machine that responds to voice commands is a sad attempt at creating a fantastic future-world that simply cannot exist. As long as you have a finger and are capable of using it, then a simple on/off button interface is a technological peak that is seemingly unimpressive only because it is so quietly and so confidently devoid of pretension.

There’s also this: Those new game systems are going to be cheaper, work better, and have less annoying functions (like always-on internet connections) in a year or two after they launch. It’s a cold, hard fact that every Xbox 360 sold during the initial launch ended up showing the “red ring of RROD of death” moments before their smoking innards spilled out the ass-end in a convulsing, slimy heap. Fast forward ten years or so, and you can now drop kick an Xbox 360 after slamming it against the wall and it will still play Call of Madden multiplayer without even being online. Surely you live in poverty deep enough that you can wait a year or two before helping these technophiliac cocksuckers make their next yacht payment? It’s not like your current system sucks; you have a huge backlist of games you could be playing while waiting for the new systems to get their kinks worked out AND develop a decent library of games.

I don’t know what this is but I’m going to go out on a limb and say that it won’t work as well as a traditional controller with buttons on it.

Don’t believe me? Christ, are you serious!? A lot of you fans of J-RPGs have over one hundred Shin Megami Tensei and Persona games that are vastly superior to Final Fantasy which you haven’t even tried out yet. Own a DS? Play Infinite Space. It’ll blow your mind and haunt your soul for years. Play Mass Effect or Assassin’s Creed if you’ve been living in a cave and have somehow missed them. If you’re the proud owner of a PS3, you’re one lucky bastard who has access to a heap of amazing exclusives that the rest of us fucking idiots will never be able to play: Journey, the HD version of Ico and Shadow of the Colossus, the Uncharted games, Infamous, and the annoying yet ridiculously fun Valkyria Chronicles. There’s also a shit-ton of Monster Hunter games that are soul-destroying time sinks that are so fun they can ruin healthy relationships and have the added benefit of being filled with annoying Japanese “quirks” you can point and laugh at.

Now, I know you’ve got your own backlog list of games that you’re working on, so let me give you a tip: Cross off every “open-world” game on there. You’ve already played enough of them. Whenever someone throws around the term “gamer’s fatigue”, it always has to do with some shitty over-hyped sandbox game that had an amazing trailer but which is never all that fun. The beginning is usually pretty boring (anyone remember the beginning of Red Dead Redemption?), the middle is packed with fetch quests, and the end is never all that good because the studios always forget to hire real writers to write them.

So that’s what this idiot thinks. What do the rest of you idiots think? Is saving the money you don’t really have just a strange sub-culture that has absolutely no relevance in this amazing future-world of voice-activated horseshit? Note that you can leave a comment by saying aloud, “Kyle’s blog, activate program: LEAVE A COMMENT.” When your computer responds, “HELLO FRIEND, WHAT USERNAME PLEASE DO YOU USING?” then simply state your full name and this blog will automatically give you a funny and culturally relevant username with a 69 on the end for added comedic value. Please contact your network administrator if you experience any difficulties.

*     *     *

Hey readers! If you liked this post, you should check out some of my books. I’ve got an epic series called Demonworld, which is equal parts Mad Max and Lord of the Rings (think “science fantasy”), and a much-loved gamebook series called Heavy Metal Thunder which is currently a hyperlinked Kindle book but will be a fancy phone app any day now.

The Key to Unlocking Iron-Man 3: Is This Even a Review?

Tony Stark is more than a whiny bitch in a sweet tin can, Iron-Man 3 is more than it seems, and this review may be more than a review. CLICK HERE to learn the senses-shattering truth about Iron-Man 3!

The Final Chapter in the Grand Theft Auto Fivology

By Kyle B. Stiff

Everyone’s really excited about Grand Theft Auto 5. How could they not be, considering the trailer? Three playable characters runnin’ around and raisin’ a shit storm – looks awesome, right?

Before ya’ll get too excited, let me remind you that the Grand Theft Auto 4 trailer was also mind-blowingly awesome. Do you remember it? Scene after scene showed Nico walking away from explosions, police cars flipping out of control while Nico threw his ride into reverse and tore down the highway like he was in Drive, leaning out of a building with a sniper rifle while the building was slowly falling over on its side, even a view from a 747 cockpit with the Twin Towers looming near while Nico in the pilot’s seat slowly turned to the camera and said, “Are you ready for this, America?”

But then what happened when you started playing? Nico landed in New York with little fanfare, then his brother was like, “Can you drive me around the block?” During the boring drive Nico hinted at having an interesting experience by saying something like, “I’m about balls-deep in some bad memories about the awful war I was in,” and then his brother was like, “Yeah yeah, that’s great, listen just hit these points on the map and then we’ll call this intro stage over and done.”

Throughout the rest of the game we are invited to pick up random losers and shoot a few random losers. There were a few memorable personalities (sadly Nico wasn’t one of them). At least the game had a great ending, right? Strangely enough, most of the “end reveal” type stuff was narrated by a character who was introduced for the comedy inherent in the fact that the player could not understand what he was saying. Hearing Nico speak with his Rastafarian buddy during the final drive was more than a little strange; it would have made more sense to have Nico say, “Who was doing what? Why was going where? Wait, slow down. Okay, nevermind, I’ll just drive in silence and try to figure this shit out my damn self.”

What’s going on with her upper half?! Is she going to be okay?!?

I like launching off of shit and going on a rampage as much as anyone, but for real, you guys: Excitement over a new Grand Theft Auto? Also, forgive me for the whiny rant. Normally I’m just grateful to be here. But I’ve been seeing people get excited about new Grand Theft Auto games for the past twenty years and, well… they’re not really that cool, are they?

Your Reward for My Victory

The ninth challenge in the Iron Writer contest ended in victory. I returned from the arena, carefully cleaned my weapons and returned them to their shelf, then strode off to the showers in dead silence. My servants congratulated one another as they took my armor, but when they looked at my face to see if it was flushed with victory, they saw only the blank serenity of one accustomed to crushing his opponents and who is already focused on the next battle.

If you want to check out the stories, they’re right HERE.

My official entry was the second story I wrote for the contest; I’ll post the first in this very blog post that you now hold in your hands. It has the same necessary set pieces: A loom, a sunken ship, a rollercoaster, and a pregnant camel. My first attempt was too long and shortening it would have been like wrestling a buttered goblin, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth a look.

Note that this superhero-themed story contains a bomb in a backpack, which was included unconsciously and may be so painfully pertinent in terms of current events that many readers might have considered it to be in poor taste. Oh well!

KISS OF THE MAN-SPIDER: FANTASTIC FIRST ISSUE! FEATURING… THE DEADLY CAMEL!

By Kyle B. Stiff 

After Art proved to Rachel beyond a shadow of a doubt that Commander America could beat the Man-Spider in a one-on-one battle, she finally relented and agreed to introduce him to the old man that she was convinced was the real-life Padre Porter, the web-slinging crime-fighter also known as the Man-Spider. Despite his father’s insistence that the Man-Spider had saved his life years ago, Art was sure that an elaborate joke was being played on him.

“Alright,” Art said, “let’s go see this old fart you’re crushing on. But I have to be back by seven, or dad’ll be pissed.”

“I’m not ‘crushing’ on him,” Rachel said, still sulking. “In fact, he’s pretty gross.”

A hike through the neighborhood brought them to a dilapidated house tucked between overgrown foliage. Rachel entered without knocking. Art entered and was assaulted by the stench of post-game locker room and cigarette butts. He could hear wood knocking against wood and the sound of multiple conspiracy theory radio shows playing one on top of another.

Creepy Old House by havokforlife, found on deviantart dot com.

Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw an old man with thin limbs working an old-fashioned loom. He had wisps of long white hair, a shirt that doubled as a napkin, and his eyes were covered in shadow. It was difficult to see, but it looked as if the old man was pulling string from his pocket. Art wanted to turn and leave, but he was enchanted by the pale, shining tapestry strung across the loom.

“Padre Porter?” Art said, feeling a little foolish. “Did you, uh, retire from fighting crime to pick up weaving?”

“I never retired,” the old man said immediately. “My old costume no longer fits, but I still weave the fates of men. I still spin justice, boy.”

Art realized that the old man spoke around a thick wad of saliva that collected at the corners of his mouth and around his tongue. He was further repulsed to see that the string stuck to his fingers as if his hands were coated in jelly or syrup.

“I guess I thought you were just a comic book character.”

“The greater part of reality you see only as a shadow. Did you know that Aleister Crowley, grand magister of the new age, was the inspiration for Professor Javier, leader of the Ex-Men, in your comic books? He taught us how to become more than human. He gave us our true names and turned us into supermen. But I can see that you, Camel, have brought me a gift in your backpack.”

Art was about to argue that not only was he not wearing a backpack, he also had nothing to do with the b-list super-villain whose lame power was the ability to go without water for weeks at a time. But when he reached behind himself he realized that he was, in fact, wearing a heavy backpack.

“Surprised?” said Padre Porter. “It’s a bomb, no doubt. You’re a victim of mind control sent by the Revengers to kill me. But mind control is such a fickle thing, isn’t it? Anyone can say the correct keywords to activate programming. For example: Rollercoaster.”

Art was struck by intense nausea. He felt as if he was teetering over the edge of a precipice and would fall at any moment. He crashed to his knees.

“Why have you come?” said Padre.

Art heard himself speaking. “Pregnant Camel comes across the wasteland to give birth to an explosion. We’ll kill you… just like we killed your syphilitic master.”

Art felt hands pull his backpack away. He could not resist. He saw men and women standing over him. Their faces were dead, their eyes were black and empty, and they carried automatic rifles and handguns.

Padre paused and leaned over his loom. His eyes were also black and dead. “I can’t do the work on my own anymore. My children are my hands and eyes now. Their thoughts are my thoughts.”

“Freedom fighters?” Art forced out the words. “They look like terrorists!”

“They’re the good guys. And you will be, too, once you reveal the location of your handler’s headquarters.”

Art clamped his mouth shut, but then heard himself say, “The museum, the sunken ship display. It’s the entrance to Titan IC. We call it Titan-99.”

“Rachel… Arachne, go and lead the others. Go and kill this man’s father, Commander America, just as I should have done so long ago.”

The superheroes filed out of the door silently. Still frozen in place, Art listened as Padre, the Man-Spider, explained that his fate would be rewoven as a bringer of justice. The old man returned to his loom and the shining tapestry and Art was horrified to see that he was pulling fresh string not from his pocket but from a grotesque opening on his lower belly.

THE END.

*     *     *

 Hey readers! If you liked this post, you should check out some of my books. I’ve got an epic series called Demonworld, which is equal parts Mad Max and Lord of the Rings (think “science fantasy”), and a much-loved gamebook series called Heavy Metal Thunder which is currently a hyperlinked Kindle book but will be a fancy phone app any day now.

The Iron Writer: Challenge 9: Time to Vote!

The ninth round of Iron Writer stories are up! Not only can you see Kyle B. Stiff’s deadly battle against three other writers, you can even vote for your favorite story! That’s right, it’s not the fighters in the arena who make the outcome, as our moves and attacks are deemed by fate… instead, it’s the cheers of the crowd that determine victory or defeat!

Just go HERE and check out the contestants. All four stories are about five hundred words – that’s a mere single page of text – and each is hamstrung from the get-go by having to include four random set pieces. This challenge’s set pieces are a pregnant camel, a loom, a rollercoaster, and a sunken ship. Only a master could weave these four unrelated things into one cohesive narrative… and it’s up to you, the readers, to choose who will wear the crown and who will be buried in a shallow ditch where the arena’s toilets are dumped out biannually.

Believe It Or Not: Tolkien Wrote Post-Apocalyptic Fiction!

What do elves and swords and giant spiders have to do with post-apocalyptic fiction? Find out in this mind-blowing piece by Kyle B. Stiff!

What does Frank Herbert’s Dune have to do with modern conspiracy theory?

Many, many connections are made between the seemingly disparate subjects of Frank Herbert’s classic science fiction masterpiece and the world of modern conspiracy theory when Kyle B. Stiff, a conspiracy theorist nutjob extraordinaire, is on the case. Humor his deluded ass and take a look at the ravings of a failed Kwisatz Haderach by clicking here.

Art by Bill Sienkiewicz.

Not All Indiana Jones Movies Are Equal

By Kyle B. Stiff

 I’ve heard a lot of people say that they love the Indiana Jones movies. Being childhood favorites of mine, I decided to watch them again as an old person. I was shocked to the core to learn that the first Indiana Jones movie is completely different from its sequels. In terms of tone and feel, it’s completely unrelated!

When I re-watched the first movie, Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, I was surprised to learn that it was an action movie that an adult could watch without being embarrassed if another adult caught him watching it, and children could also enjoy it IF we keep in mind the idea that children aren’t fragile, impressionable creatures that need to be protected from disturbing images or else they run the risk of becoming full-on psychopaths. The later movies, however, are children’s movies.

We have this idea that Indiana Jones is always swinging from ropes and shooting load-bearing posts that cause heavy objects to fall on bad guys without killing them, but all of that cartoony nonsense comes from the later movies. In the first movie, Dr. Jones shoots a guy in the face. He doesn’t swing around a rope tied to a chain looped around a giant gear that somehow makes a non-fatal mound of shit fall on some dufus in a uniform; no, his special move in the first movie is to point a revolver at some guy, pull the trigger, and slam a hot one into his skull. It’s not “clever” at all, which is good because Hollywood needs less clever and more awesome. The only time Dr. Jones approaches being clever in Raiders is when he tricks an opponent who physically outmatches him into getting his face whipped off by a spinning propeller. It’s not cute… but it’s something I can get behind.

“You have problem with cute?”

(Note: The scene in question happens when Dr. Jones returns to the Tibetan bar and finds it full of Nazis torturing the woman that he illegally impregnated when she was like fourteen (way to go Indy!). I was most definitely not referring to the famous scene with the sword-swinging ding-bat that Indy kills with one shot.)

The first movie focuses on the Ark of the Covenant. Could a better ancient artifact have been chosen by the writers even if their lives depended on it?! Even the handful of viewers who don’t understand the power behind the myth of the Ark are brought up to speed in an incredible scene with slowly building tension and creepy music in which Dr. Jones explains to some military dudes exactly how dangerous this object is, and how it’s cloaked in secrecy and historical amnesia in an attempt to hide the horror behind its existence. Now, after considering all that… just what was the artifact in the sequel? Does anyone remember? Does anyone care?

There are lots of tonal changes in Raiders that engage the emotions just like any great song or story. In between scenes of Dr. Jones beating the shit out people with his bare hands, there are scenes with characters interacting in non-comical ways (in the later films all character interaction is there for the sake of comic levity) in which people discuss the gravity of the forbidden object they are searching for. There are also lots of dark scenes in which the world seems to be moved by frightening supernatural forces. Remember when Dr. Jones’s team is digging in some desert location and we see the sky become like something out of a nightmare? Scenes like that are powerful not only because they force us to emotionally consider the horrific underpinnings of reality, but those scenes also show that the film’s makers don’t assume that the audience is a mob of idiots who completely fall asleep when  they see anything other than people jumping around or crashing into things at high speeds.

The later films have none of that. They are metronomes that gravitate between dipshit hijinks and people running around and falling off of stuff. And I suppose everyone’s on the same page about the last movie, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, being awful. I felt sorry for Harrison Ford; even in the movie poster he seemed worn out, and looked as if he was hoping that he would be allowed to sit down for a few minutes after his photo-shoot. Of course it makes sense to revisit the theme of ancient aliens that the first movie touched on, but unless it’s filmed with the same slow and altogether-alien feel of something crazy like 2001: A Space Odyssey, I can’t imagine how a bunch of old people and kids riding in a refrigerator could possibly have seemed like it was going to add anything to the series even as an idea, much less a thing that had been filmed on accident and had to be marketed and sold if only to cover the cost of the mistake itself.

“I’m tired and I want to sit down!”

As a fellow old person, you’re completely entitled to go back and watch Raiders of the Lost Ark again. You’ll be surprised to realize that the makers of the film didn’t utterly despise your existence and crave only your wallet’s innards. Just do yourself a favor and let the later installments in the series gather dust.

Hey readers! If you liked this post, you should check out some of my books. I’ve got an epic series called Demonworld, which is equal parts Mad Max and Lord of the Rings (think “science fantasy”), and a much-loved gamebook series called Heavy Metal Thunder which is currently a hyperlinked Kindle book but will be a fancy phone app any day now.

How to Use Facebook Like a Badass

By Kyle B. Stiff

It’s come to my attention that you guys are logging in and out of Facebook twenty times a day and checking your notifications rather than being hardcore winners at life. This is not going to work out for me; I don’t want to live on a planet populated by people who got played like a game of FarmVille. I want to live in a world filled with badasses. To that end, I’m going to show you how I use Facebook.

What’s the big deal with my Facebook technique? Why do I think it’s superior to everyone else’s Facebook technique? And why should anyone be using Facebook at all? Or at the other extreme, why not let Facebook win?

The thing is, you can use Facebook and still achieve victory in life. It is possible. In fact, it’s been my experience that once the Book of Faces has been opened, it cannot be shut. The best we can do is limit its power over us. I’m going to show you how to enjoy using it without letting it use you.

First, we’ve got to talk about your friends. Let’s face it: Most of them aren’t that interesting. Don’t you know that you’re only truly friends with a few people on your list? The rest are family, coworkers, acquaintances, and people you’re stalking. Just seeing their status updates makes you feel anxious. To make things worse, a surprising number of people that come up in your newsfeed say things that piss you off, or make you resentful, or you look down on them, or sometimes they even give you a non-specific and generalized sense of feeling like shit.

True friends!

So what do you do, unfriend them? No, that’s not necessary, and it could lead to a backed-up toilet full of drama. Here’s what you do: When you browse through your news feed, hide a couple of people. Only a couple. The next day, hide a couple more. Don’t think about it too hard, just hide the biggest loudmouths that post the dumbest shit. It’ll be easier than you think, because your feed is most likely an un-weeded garden filled with schmucks with nothing to say. I know it sounds harsh, but the truth is that once those dimwits are gone from your feed, you will never, ever miss them!

Question: What if someone finds out I hid them? Won’t they be mad at me?

Answer: No one will ever, ever find out that you hid them from your newsfeed. For one thing, they post so much stupid shit that they have no way of tracking who sees what. For another thing, everyone’s newsfeed is so jam-packed with stupid shit that if some moron says, “Did you see the awesome thing I posted?” then the only honest and air-tight answer truly is, “No, I have too much dumb shit in my newsfeed, I missed the awesome thing you posted.” (Note: Try not to roll your eyes when you say “awesome”. In a real-life encounter, you must lie through your teeth in order to avoid drama from needy simpletons.)

In a few days, this seemingly difficult first step will become intoxicating. You’ll start hiding people from your feed left and right, and it’ll get easier and easier as you go. In time, only a few people that you truly like, or who actually have something to say, will be left.

Once you’ve finally cleaned up your feed, it’s time to make your feed impressive; after you weed a garden, you gotta put some roses in there. The second step toward using Facebook like one of life’s winners is to start friending or subscribing to groups or people (rather than friends) that represent your interests. This step is necessary… but it’s also dangerous.

For one thing, don’t interact with these people. In fact, it’s necessary that you not think of them as people. They are not your friends and they will never be your friends, and that’s exactly how you want it. Why? Because you’re too busy achieving victory in real life to make friends online.

Another danger lies in the fact that you might subscribe to interests that don’t add to your joy of living. You’ll want to subscribe to groups or people who post stuff ONLY if it relaxes you or engages your brain or your soul. This is easier said than done. For example: Are you into politics? Then you should subscribe to a feed that’ll keep you up to date on the latest political news, right? WRONG. Better yet: DEAD WRONG. If you’re into politics, then by all means go to a protest, debate with someone, vote and pray that the voting machines haven’t been tweaked. But DO NOT clog your feed with a bunch of nonsense that’s only going to get your pulse racing and heighten your anxiety.

You might be shaking your head, but trust me. When it comes to your Facebook feed, you’re going to have to skirt around a lot of nerve-wracking horseshit. Politics is the worst offender when it comes to ruining Facebook feeds. It’s been said that the revolution won’t be televised; I know you want to be informed, but believe me, the revolution isn’t going to be on Facebook either. Conservatives, try not to subscribe to groups that post pictures of dead babies and feature misspelled warnings about Obama making abortion mandatory for all heterosexual couples (note that If those babies were born, you would just end up friending them on Facebook and their status updates would clog up your newsfeed). Liberals, try not to subscribe to groups that whine about how teachers need to make over a hundred grand a year (note that those teachers would end up buying the same cars that rappers drive and they would still complain about their jobs).

So what should you subscribe to? Anything that won’t make you feel anxious, but shows you something you might not have found on your own, is fair game. When I began cleaning up my feed, I subscribed to a lot of people who do nothing but post pictures of art all day long. I stick to old paintings done with a level of skill we don’t have these days, with a few comic book artists thrown in for fun. Once you manage to find a few feed-enhancers, you’ll find better ones later by accident. Trust me, logging into Facebook and seeing a work of art done by Michelangelo or Moebius is a thousand times better than reading a status update about someone’s car taking a shit and making them late for a job they hate or perhaps don’t deserve to have.

(Note: Try to stay away from abstract postmodern shit. Nobody’s going to take the time to look through your profile and judge your interests, so you won’t get any brownie points from anyone by clogging up your feed with pictures of colored blocks that cleverly use empty space to get across a message about man’s inhumanity to man. You won’t be taking more than five seconds to look at this stuff anyway, so find stuff that looks nice and doesn’t jack-hammer your anxiety levels.)

But that’s just a starting point. What about cute animals? It’s never a bad idea to have random pictures of kittens and baby ducks and lobsters show up in your feed. The only thing to watch out for is that you don’t want cute animal pictures to have any stupid meme text pasted on them – you want to smile involuntarily because you got surprised by somethin’ heartwarming, not smirk like a dipshit because you “got” some other dipshit’s lowbrow joke.

What about handmade goods? Futuristic crap? Books in general? Pictures of mountains with lava spewing out of them? Famous corpses? Clouds that look like nothing other than clouds? Guns made to shoot bullets rather than act as political argument pieces? That’s fine – all of that stuff is perfectly acceptable to have in a feed, and can enlighten the hell out of you when you’re in the mood to waste time in style.

That’s it: Two steps toward tailoring Facebook to suit your needs. Few of us are strong enough to simply walk away from the Book of Faces, but that doesn’t mean we have to be notification-whores click-click-clickin’ away until we find ourselves on our death beds with no victory to show the gods. When Death Itself clicks on the notification that says our tomorrows have ended, none of us wants to go through a life-review filled with moments where we habitually checked something that only brought us down and made us feel like something less than the badasses we truly are. When we go out in a blaze of glory and stand before the gods in judgment, and they look at how Facebook affected us, let’s be ready to tell them, “I didn’t get bent out of shape over status updates written by needy simpletons. I remade Facebook in my own image; and there I saw volcanoes raging, and the cuteness of kittens, and art made by masters long since passed away, and many other badass things full of wonder.”

Hey readers! If you liked this post, you should check out some of my books. I’ve got an epic series called Demonworld, which is equal parts Mad Max and Lord of the Rings (think “science fantasy”), and a much-loved gamebook series called Heavy Metal Thunder which is currently a hyperlinked Kindle book but will be a fancy phone app any day now.

In Horror I Realized that Metal Gear Is for Children

By Kyle B. Stiff

 Like a lot of nerds, I was blown away by the first Metal Gear Solid. A Western focus on modern military themes and conspiracies mixed surprisingly well with an Eastern flair for sentimentality and over-the-top characters. I’m also one of those pretentious types that loved the second game. In fact, I attribute MGS2: The Sons of Liberty with my “wake up” call that turned me into a full-blown conspiracy nut. And I nearly cried at the end of the third game; the fact that only Snake understood Boss’s sacrifice, which only helped turn him into the unfortunately-named Big Boss, really hit me in my soft underbelly. I even got a little blubbery during the ending of the Portable Ops game when Big Boss’s Russian troops are being rounded up by the Americans – but then they salute, and we realize that Big Boss has gone beyond the nationalistic concept of “king and country” and united his troops based on their common humanity. That’s some heavy shit, no doubt about it.

But I’ve stopped playing Metal Gear games. Once I became officially old as balls, something started bothering me about the series. It’s been years since I made Rosemary’s jugs bounce via telekinesis during a codec conversation in the fourth game (how embarrassing was that bullshit, gamers?), but now I know why I can’t play these games without twitching uncontrollably. It’s because Metal Gear Solid is targeted toward a young audience. And, as I’ve said before, I’m old as balls.

Don’t think that I’m trashing the series. I’m not. In case you haven’t seen the new trailers for Metal Gear Solid 5, here they are. Please note that they are all incredibly awesome. However, also please note that one trailer contains an event that lasts for about three seconds but makes my intestines curl up with fear about how awkward the next MGS game will be. More on that later.

Here’s a trailer that wasn’t pushed as a Metal Gear trailer, but people figured out pretty quick that it was a Metal Gear game. The sense of horror and helplessness are very, very powerful. Some narrative text even wonders: “Have I gone to Hell?”

Here’s the latest trailer, which merges the hellish Phantom Pain narrative with clips from the unfortunately-named Ground Zeroes segment, which I’ll post last. Again, it’s pretty awesome. The inclusion of mythical beasts adds a dreamlike element often missing from the usual military aesthetic, but hints at alternate realities like we saw during the battle against The Sorrow in the third game. Also there’s the fact that Big Boss may be somewhat insane; he certainly wasn’t introduced years ago as a mentally stable hero, but as a megalomaniacal villain.

Now, here’s a trailer based on the beginning of the new game. It’s a slow crawl through a military base lashed by rain and run by someone covered in burn scars. As good as it is, the narrative conversation makes me wish that Kojima would learn to edit himself; I understand that Paz and the kid are being held in a military base, there’s no need to beat it to death.

That’s an awesome trailer, right? But here’s the thing: At 8:25 the camera zooms in on Big Boss, who takes off his goggles, looks directly into the camera, and says, “Kept you waiting, huh?” Don’t try to kid yourself by thinking that he’s talking to the other dude and the camera just happened to nearly slam into his forehead. No, Big Boss is actually talking to the goddamn audience. He’s referencing the fact that it’s been a while since we had a new MGS game available for a console, and Snake knows that we might be excited by seeing him again.

This is not cool, dear readers. This is really lame and awkward. There’s a reason why movies don’t show characters turning to the camera to spout off a one-liner unless said movie is a comedy. It’s goofy. It’s not something that an adult gamer wants to see.

I don’t mean to sound like a nit-picky, whiny little bitch, but the MGS series has always been hamstrung by lame attempts at humor in what should otherwise be a serious story about individuals being ground up by powerful forces that will do anything to extend their control.

But the compulsion to put lame jokes into a serious story is indicative of something far darker. That compulsion stems from the fear of telling a serious story, a story that could influence people because it closely mirrors reality.

For example: What was up with that goofball ending for the fourth MGS game? There were many, many great moments in that epic story. Who among us had ever played anything like it before?! There even came a point when it was understood that the hero, Solid Freaking Snake, would have to kill himself at the end of his mission so that humanity could live. He deserved only reward and adoration, but instead, he found out that he was a biological time bomb, and the final boss he would have to kill… was himself. I mean, a shot of Snake standing alone in a graveyard with a gun to his head, followed by a short five-minute cutscene of Hal Emmerich at a wedding explaining to some kid why Snake had to die alone, would have been soul-shattering and beautiful.

So what happened? Instead, we get some goofball antics with Meryl marrying some genetically unfit comic-relief dufus (this was after their painful flirtation during a final battle where bullets seemed unable to hit them), Emmerich cried for twenty minutes about Snake’s suicide only to have the scene undermined by an awkward phone call in which Snake said he didn’t have to do it after all, and he quit smoking, and he wants to hang out (to do what?!), and Big Boss came along and rambled for forty-five minutes while tripping over graves like he was in some kind of slapstick comedy sketch. It’s funny, that’s for damn sure, and the only thing that would have made it any funnier would be Meryl’s new husband throwing his ankles behind his ears and lighting farts during the wedding scene.

Plus we had to watch Raiden interact with his dumb kid. We already had all this awesome tension built up during the second game in which it was heavily implied that Rosemary wasn’t even a real person. She was a freaking memory construct, Raiden was an MK ULTRA mind control victim, and his masters were completely insane. THAT’S POWERFUL STORYTELLING – but wait! No no, it didn’t happen like that after all, Rosemary might have acted really weird at the end of MGS2 but don’t worry, she’s actually a real person and Raiden had a dumb kid with her and we get to see their awkward half-hour interaction at the end of MGS4. This was not long after a codec scene in which we find out that the player can telekinetically manipulate Rose’s tits while she helps deliver some dialogue during an otherwise serious scene. Totally makes sense… totally, totally makes sense. (It doesn’t really make sense, of course, unless we consider the fact that Kojima might be a virgin who has never touched or seen a breast and thus has no adult perspective on how embarrassing it is to see that stuff in his games.)

But there’s more. Why bother to have a heartfelt death scene for Raiden in MGS4 only to bring him back a few scenes later? It smacks of Joss Whedon and his inability to kill off a character because there might be at least one person who will feel a twinge of sorrow at the finality of death. As an entertainer, I would feel like a sack of shit if I tricked the audience into feeling sorrow at the death of a character only to – ta da! – bring them back later without a damn good reason. How could anyone feel any sense of danger while reading my stories if they knew that anyone I wrote about was effectively immortal and thus never in any danger?

Years ago, I thought it was brave of Kojima that he made it possible for Meryl to die in MGS1 based on the player’s actions (well, his ability to tap a button quickly during the torture scene), but her inclusion in MGS4 only proves that eternal life is canon in MGS and death is something that can only exist in an alternate non-canon universe full of endless horrors. Uh oh, here’s a plot twist, readers: Is that alternate dimension of horror actually the one we live in?

I guess my greatest concern is that I would really, really like to play this new MGS game, but I’m terrified that the ending will be lame and preachy. The ending of MGS3 and Portable Ops was pretty amazing, but the ending of every other game was mind-numbingly preachy. It seemed like every character gained this insight into humanity and existence, and then tried to pass that enlightenment on using strange non sequitors and sweeping generalities chock full of glowing optimism. Take MGS2, for instance. Raiden had to fight through a hellish nightmare, everyone around him went insane (and may not have even existed outside of his mind), he found out that his enemy Solidus was actually a good guy (sort of), he took part in an incredible hand-to-hand battle on top of Federal Hall, he made a human sacrifice of Big Boss’s closest genetic clone right under a statue of George Washington (where the “first patriot” was inaugurated) – and then what happened?

Oh, no big deal, Raiden and Snake just start preaching. “Life and stuff. It’s about being alive. Who am I? The decisions we make are the same as the choices we take. Is reality just a dream that wakes up and finds itself sleeping beside the choice to be alive?”

How does that happen? How do you experience the finest, most intense emotions that gaming has to offer, only to have it fall apart into something that might blow a fourteen-year-old’s mind but which ultimately sounds like a pile of horseshit? I hope this isn’t the case, but I suspect that, on some level, Hideo Kojima actually despises the audience of his games.

Think about it. Why are these action games that center on espionage and combat often hampered by sermons against violence? Does Hideo Kojima not understand that ANY AND EVERY hero’s journey must include violence because violence represents conflict and overcoming obstacles, which is a part of every human’s life? Or does he actually believe that violence in video games and movies has the power to turn a passive, idiotic audience into violent psychopaths? Why would he even make this assumption? How many war-hungry presidents and sadistic dictators and serial killers play video games? Really, how many? (Hint: The answer is zero.)

But… I probably will play MGS5. I admit, I’m looking forward to it. I didn’t bother to play Raiden’s solo game Revengeance, mostly because I suspected that Kojima’s hatred and disgust toward his audience had reached fever-pitch intensity. I decided that because 1) I remember my discomfort about the goofy ending to MGS4, and 2) the title is insanely bad. Not that I should have to hammer the point home, but do we understand that Revengeance is a really bad title? “It’s not just revenge… and it’s so much more than vengeance… it is: REVENGEANCE.” Why does it sound like the title of a comedy movie poking fun at action movie conventions? Is Kojima merely making fun of the audience? Or does he truly, truly hate the audience? Or is Kojima perhaps being more serious than we thought, and he trimmed the title down from the original and unwieldy THE MURDERKILLERS: RETURN OF THE RISE OF REVENGEANCE: THE FINAL BATTLE: THE DARK PROPHECY: THE ADVENTURE BEGINS?

Maybe this stuff really is made for children. When I was a kid, I was definitely one autistic sumbitch that liked complex storylines full of conspiracies and epic battles. Maybe I have faith that Kojima has outgrown his hatred for his audience and, as an adult, I will be able to write a glowing and worshipful review of METAL GEAR SOLID 5IVE: THE TWO GROUNDS ZEROES: THE PHANTOM MENACE PAINS: I WONDER WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO TOUCH A WOMANS BREASTES.

Hey readers! If you liked this post, you should check out some of my books. I’ve got an epic series called Demonworld, which is equal parts Mad Max and Lord of the Rings (think “science fantasy”), and a much-loved gamebook series called Heavy Metal Thunder which is currently a hyperlinked Kindle book but will be a fancy phone app any day now.