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Sorry Ruck, but 90s toons were better.

Soul Calibur, Trekken, Street Fighter, Mortal Combat and any other fighting game that uses the same control scheme
Seriously, it's not fun. Unless you know every single button combo, any fight turns into a button smashing contest. Yawn.

Max Payne-
Hooray, the only game that got John Woo's bullet time thing correct! LET'S ALL PRAISE THE GRITTY REALISM

While we're on the topic of Rockstar Games....

GTA
It's completely overrated in the sense that you really don't have to play the storyline or any of the side missions. That's not a game in my opinion.

There are no absolutes.

There are forms of infinity that are bigger than infinity.

And Graucho Marx once said, "Here's a paradox"

At 6/1/11 01:55 PM, RacistBassist wrote: I disagree. I'm going to love to see the people who were always the snobby, I'm better then you for x reason, having amounted to nothing in their pitiful lives despite all their hard work. Especially those who thought getting good grades were actually a measure of anything, besides ones ability to do homework on time.

Why? They're going to be the same snobby people that you've known in high school. You already know you've done better than them, and so you want to rub it in their faces? That makes you no better then them when all of you were in high school.

Besides, college gives a much better experience and memory anyways.

Why should I wear overpriced clothing when I can wear Italian suits?

At 6/1/11 06:31 AM, Elfer wrote: My advice to OP: Don't cry at graduation. High school is dumb.

Yeah. Those who are happy to see people at high school reunions are typically the ones who haven't moved on from high school. Don't become one of those people.

Instead, keep moving forward.

I played 4 years of high school baseball as a starting catcher, so I guess that's the sport I'm good at. Personally though, I prefer parkour.

At 5/31/11 11:23 PM, agustana wrote: JackPhantasm.

Come back, James.

Didn't he get his account deleted?

Interesting.

It seems to be a flip from the US, where a conservative politician is seen much more sexier than a liberal one.

Either way, there's always fucking in governments.

A few ladies in the VIP lounge look lonely, so I find a path from the bar to the exclusive seats. However, right as I'm about to enter, I'm (once again) stopped by two bouncers that seemingly come out of nowhere. Not wanting to put up with their crap, I wave my hand in front of their faces and they let me in without a hassle. Right before I go however, I want to have a little bit a fun. "These are not the droids you are looking for," I say, trying hard to keep a straight face.

"These are not the droids we are looking for," the two men repeat in a monotone. I burst out laughing, but the two still have that "deer-stuck-in-the-headlights" look.

The lounge, for the most part, is fairly nice. The couches are violet velvet, and each has at least 2 girls on them. A few men are in the room besides myself, probably high rollers or friends of the owner. Immediately two girls have their hands on my shoulders, and while I would normally enjoy their company, now's not the time. I brush them off as I make my way toward the back, where a man with black frizzy hair and an opened collar white shirt is making out with a blonde girl. "Am I interrupting something?" I ask.

"Hm? What?" the man replies, mouth busy with the other girl's tongue. Suddenly his eyes grow wider and he shoves the girl to the side. The blonde pouts and exits, presumably to drink more. "What do you want?" the man asks me.

Deciding to take the enforcer identity route, I mentally create a persona with the name I created earlier. "I'm Winston Montag. I'm here for the collection."

"What collection? I'm never even heard of you."

"That's because you don't want to hear of me. That is, unless you've heard about the other club down the street, the Fireman?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Let's just say the Fireman got put out because somebody forgot who the chief was."

"Are you trying to extort money from me? You got to be shitting me. No one can touch me. The Department fucked off, so did the mob, so who the fuck do you think you are, Montag?" He hits the fuck like Pacino did in that mob movie and even has the spit to prove it. Classic tough guy move. Time to take this guy down.

"Well, if you don't pay me, than I might just have to get out what's in this black bag." I tap the bag with my right hand. "Unless you really want to find out what's in this thing, of course."

"Let me repeat myself twice since you obviously didn't hear the first time retard: Who the FUCK do YOU think you ARE? SECURITY!" The two guys I duped earlier come running in, guns drawn. The rest of the lounge empties out, wanting to avoid a scene. Both disengage their safeties and the owner tells them, "Make it clean. I don't want this to ruin the couches or business."

The hammers cock back. I drop the bag, duck, whip around, pull my coat back, draw the two Berettas in my shoulder holsters (Thank you John Woo) and fire into both guy's balls. The two men, easy to say, go down. As they're falling I pop them both in the head, dead before they hit the floor. I holster my Berettas and turn back around. "What were you saying about ruining business?" I ask. The guy's speechless. "Well, I guess you did want to see what's in the bag. I don't blame you. I could certainly be bluffing. Sadly for you, I'm not. And it's a shame, I actually enjoyed this club." I unzip the bag and pull out the M60 machine gun, chambered in 7.62x51mm NATO. I love this thing. Even though in real combat it's merely a supportive weapon in the sense that it only suppresses as a defensive gun, when used against unarmed and unshielded combats, it's fucking overkill. Rambo had it right; if you're going to raise some hell, do it properly.

I turn towards the club and open fire. The rounds in this puppy are used by snipers (Hey, I know a little something about that) helicopter gunners, and most machine gunners in the world. Plus, the 500~600 rounds per minute doesn't hurt either.

You're probably wondering right around now how could I commit such a slaughter upon innocent people in a club. You might be wondering, does this guy have morals? What about ethics? Shouldn't he have at least some decent concern about the lives of human beings? What is wrong with him? To these questions, I respond also with a question: What difference does it make? They're all going to die anyway. That's life. Whether it's now or later really doesn't matter. This way I'm saving them the horrors that could wait later in life. Hey, the glass is always half full.

For those of you who are disgusted, I understand. On the other hand, a guy's got to do a job. So, to spare you the rest of the scene, I won't describe it. Instead, I finish the deed.

"So, for future reference," I turn back around to the stunned in the VIP lounge, "that's who the fuck I am." I put the machine gun back into the bag. I set my phase to "stun" and zap the owner. After tying up his body with some rope that I conjured up, I put him into the bag as well. As I turn to leave so I can interrogate the guy later I hear someone clapping behind me.

"Well done Louis. Very well done. That's quite a performance, even if I'm disgusted by it," the voice calls out. I turn around, guns drawn. Aw fuck, it's Michael. What the fuck he doing here? I guess he can tell my disapproval by the look on my face. "What? Not happy to see me on your sanctioned killing spree?"

"Actually, yeah. What the fuck are you doing here? Don't you have some crusade to be leading or something?"

"Fuck off. I'm just here to make sure everything's going to plan."

"Bullshit. If He didn't trust us to do it, He would have never given the job to us. Instead, He'd send another Messiah down and bring "peace and happiness" and all that other crap you guys feed off of."

Michael flips me the bird. "You really don't know when to shut up, do you Louis? But you're right. I'm not here on official business. However, if you fuck up, this will become official business. Now personally I don't approve of this plan, but since it is His plan, I guess I have to go with it for the time being. But you take one step out of line Lucifer, I will hunt you down and I will fucking kill you like the dog you are."

"Big words for a tough man, though I am not amused. Who was it that tried to pull that shit on me last? Oh yeah, it was Gabriel, and last time I checked, I put two .38 rounds into his chest and fucked over your plans. Speaking of history, I also personally did not approve of your plan to wipe Roanoke Colony of the fucking map. So, what were you saying again Michael?"

"Are you threatening me you ungrateful son of a bitch? Remember that one time when I shoved a flaming sword in your side? Well, you keep at this, and next time, I won't miss. And don't even think about using that fast trigger finger you have. You wouldn't dare attack me now, not with the parley that's going on." As much as I hate to admit it, the smug bastard is right. "You're under a fucking microscope here Louis, and you've got no choice in the matter. My advice to you is this: shut the fuck up, and enjoy your holiday. Now fuck off." With those final words Michael disappears. Bastard had to ruin the fun. What an asshole.

At 5/31/11 10:06 PM, Jedi-Master wrote: I was thinking the same thing. I'd say that in approximately 50~100 years from now, historians would compare Bush to some of our perceived-to-be decent/better presidents, like Bill Clinton or Ronald Reagan.

Personally, I think Bush wasn't a great president. But to say that he was "terrible" is a little much in my opinion. I'm just satisfied with saying that he could've done better; I consider him to be average among presidents.

I wouldn't go that far to place Bush with Reagan, but maybe Clinton. Like you said, Busg was an average president, so I would put him in the same category as JQA or even Eisenhower or his father Bush Sr.

Americanidiot2f and Tri-Nitro-Toulene.

I have no idea where either of them went.

At 5/31/11 09:48 PM, Jedi-Master wrote: I never really contended that Bush was stupid; if this article is true, then my opinion of Bush has been solidified. The man is smarter than we think.

I agree. I think in the long run, history will be nicer to Bush than we currently are. Stupid? No. Incompetent? Eye of the beholder.

John Adams and John Quincy Adams.

America, you're welcome.

At 5/31/11 08:17 PM, Magical-Zorse wrote: Pokemon will always be popular, it's not just a fad.

Pretty much. Has there ever been a more influential franchise in video game history besides Pokemon? Maybe Mario, but that's about it.

Sorry Zelda, Halo, and CD, but you're not THAT influential.

Did you hear the joke about Helen Keller?

Neither did she.

Before I get all nitty gritty on this, let me first say, this is an excellent introduction. Describing the human mind and nature is a great setup into something bigger.

However, that's the problem with these piece. You get all dressed up, but you don't go anywhere. Like I said, using it as a lead in to something bigger would really make the impact greater. Good job though.

For those who've served and died in battle, God Bless.

It's days like these where we should all really step back, away from politically drawn lines, away from state boundaries and away from national differences to honor those who've served in the line of duty for our country. God Bless.

PEW.The shot is no louder than if I tried to make the sound myself. The man crumbles unto the pavement; his life spared from the more horrible things that are about to happen. I hop out of the car and with haste drag the cadaver down an abandoned alleyway, out of anybody's eyesight. Not that it matters here though, but on the other hand, I do like to make sure I leave nothing to chance. I rummage through the guy's pockets, taking his ID card (which I'll superimpose a picture of myself on it with the name Winston Bernard Montag, because that name sounds awesome) his cash (which I'll easily replicate so I can get anywhere) and his keys to an unseen vehicle which I guess I'll have to find later. However, it's the revolver tucked in the small of his back that interests me. It's a .357 S&W snubbie; a significant gun for self defense. I check its load and two shots have already been fired. Hm, who was on the receiving end of this bad boy? Whatever. I'm not here to solve mysteries; I'm here to cause some chaos. I discard the two empty shells, remove three of the remaining bullets and whip the cylinder shut. Throwing the gun in with the rest of my weaponry, I climb back into my car and continue down the empty road.

The population begins to increase as I drive toward the bar. Granted, it seems most of these people are homeless, but at least they're here. They're wearing similar suits to the guy I killed earlier, which makes me believe that these poor people have a terrible sense of fashion. Finally I get to the club, so I park near the front but away from the main strip. I take my black bag out from the trunk and walk to the entrance where I'm blocked by two (I'm assuming) bouncers, both dressed in leather (Don't get me started on how bad it looks, let me tell you, it's a cross between BDSM gone wrong and John Wayne), imposing and heavily armed with submachine guns. Both of them aim their weapons at me as I approach, but I raise my hand to convince them I mean no harm. I take that back. That's a lie. Of course I mean them harm, but I need to get in the club first. I hand them my altered ID card, which they scan with what looks like a Blackberry. The one on the right nods to the other one. Unless I'm reading this wrong, I'm pretty sure that nod doesn't mean "He's good, let's let him in." I'm guessing rather it means "This is bullshit. Let's shoot the cocksucker." Well, better do something quick.

After a brief check that no one else is around (street's empty, I'm good) I drop the bag, flip my trench coat behind my back, draw the cutlass from the holster on my belt, slice the first bouncer's neck, then thrust the blade into the second bouncer's stomach and impale him on the wall. I twist the sword once to make sure the guy's dead and yank it out of the wall. The corpse falls to the ground. I walk over to the first victim who's bleeding out. I perform his last rites, and after I'm done, I wipe the blood off the blade with the bouncer's shirt. Sheathing the cutlass, I pick my black bag and continue into the club.

Luckily for me, the club in located underground, so the first room is a main lobby (if you could call a rundown building nice place) with a single receptionist. After he shows me to the elevator and hits the appropriate button, I shoot him in the head with the phaser. At least his blood doesn't run into the elevator and ruin my good leather shoes. The elevator descends far too slowly than what a regular one should, but given the current condition of the city, I'm surprised it runs at all. Besides, it gives me time to light up another cigarette.

As soon as the doors open the bass from the club hits me like a sucker punch from Rocky. Finally I can get some real action from people who look like they've actually been living these past few months. The music can best be described as heavy metal meets house, a combination that I find for the most part very logical. Neon drinks float from the bar on the left all the way to the front of the stage on the right. Toward the back is a VIP section, but first I want a drink. Moving slowly across the dance floor past women in artfully ripped white clothes (maybe I'll save one so I can fuck her later and then kill her, oh fuck it, I can always have Marilyn Monroe) I make my way to the bar. "Got any whiskey?" I ask over the loud music.

"Are you crazy?" the bartender yells in reply. "We haven't got that since those asshole pricks in The Department decided alcohol was bad for society. You're 300 years too late man."

"Then what the fuck do you have?"

"This shit my comrade." He holds up a neon drink. "Moonshine, but with an extra kick in it. It's called the Upper. We've been brewing this forever, even when the Department said otherwise. Ever since the Rising, we've been drink this shit like no tomorrow. Thank God for revolution!" He yells the last sentence, which creates a supporting roar from the crowd. "Here Brother," he hands me the drink. "This one's on me." What the hell? Let's see what this can do. I down the entire thing in one gulp.

Now, a bit of a disclaimer: I've done many drugs in my time, some good, some bad, but for the most part, they've been all right. But this one, the Upper, had a very peculiar effect. The closet equivalent I can think of is marijuana, but imagine that as a drink. The point here is that my cognitive ability was slightly affected, but not by much. I can certainly see why these people like it and why they would need it. The Upper created a sense of bliss and happiness, but still, it, like many other drugs before it, is false. Well, at least we can enjoy the ride while it lasts. Soon enough I'm laughing it up with other patrons, but I only have one more round. I still have a job I have to do, and while this is a nice distraction, it's not that important.

At 5/29/11 02:07 AM, Ryanson wrote: Survivor. And Big Brother. And. Jersey Shore. They make me sad.

Yeah. Basically any reality series that does not have Tim Gunn in it. Which pretty much means all of them except for Project Runway.

How can we miss the obvious, Alanis Morissette? She's God, well, at least according to Kevin Smith.

At the end in a really fast tone say "KTHNXBYE"

People will actually look up from the more important message that they're texting.

Typically Chinese leftovers, still in the little paper containers. I have no idea how, but they always taste better that way.

Yes, it actually does exist. The Vatican's iTunes library includes The Beatles, U2, Santana, and.....Oasis? Seriously? Oasis?

Dear God. Literally. And musically.

All of the CSI's just need to stop. When your main starts to leave the show, you should stop. Let's run through the list:

CSI: Sorry Laurence Fishbourne, you can't be as awesome.
CSI Miami: I guess somebody...*puts on sunglasses*.....needs to be cancelled. YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
CSI NY: Am I the only one that sees Gary Sinise as Lt. Dan from Forrest Gump? Yeah, I'm expecting Tom Hanks to randomly appear out of nowhere.

At 5/28/11 12:31 AM, stafffighter wrote: And every guy in the room is now wondering about the technical functions of that.

Congrats Elfer

You know, somewhere on the internet that's bound to exist, though I dare not to google that. I have enough nightmares as it is.

Not as bad as North Korea, where they force you to play D&D.

At 5/27/11 12:57 PM, Malachy wrote: shortly afterward, he realized that he created yet another glory hole

And sure enough, there was a sign on his back that read "Ban me".

Level 30. Awesomesauce.

At 5/26/11 12:48 PM, Proteas wrote: I think you're thinking of Shrike and Funk. All I got was a t-shirt and stickers.

"I was modded and all I got was this lousy T-Shirt"