Are ya like me? Does a warm, moist feeling wash over your thighs when you recall the peak of anti-drug hysteria in the eighties? If so, you certainly remember NARC, the arcade game that taught us wee ones to "Say No or Die!"

NARC's premise is pretty simple. Destroy Lou Bega's criminal empire while violating as many civil liberties as possible.

Here's another piece of that stylin' title screen. "No one had the guts... until now!" I assume they mean "the guts to dress like a fucking idiot and expect to be taken seriously". Sadly, NARC didn't start a "helmets and bandages" craze, despite the fact that just about every other asinine trend you care to think of was immediately embraced. Covering your left arm in padding and color-coordinated duct tape doesn't seem much dumber than "Rip-Offs" sneakers. I've got a whole stack of comics with ads for these "Rip-Offs" on the back cover, featuring a collection of grinning mongoloids exhorting us to "Join the Rip-Offs Gang!" Apparently, these swanky velcro-powered shoes had little pictures that you could collect-n-trade on the sides, effectively turning your feet into a Lisa Frank album. ("The only crime is not having them!" the ad reminds us helpfully.)

But NARC would have us believe that just about anything is a crime, punishable by being reduced to several thousand lovingly rendered body parts. Naturally, we responded to this message of totalitarian terror in the usual fashion -- by putting quarters into it.

The arcade taught us how to enjoy zero tolerance...
...while the NES fought against peer pressure.
Someone, somewhere, felt the need to sanitize the NES version. Example One: "Say No or Die" becomes "Just Say No". Nancy Reagan (who signed my letter of congratulations for getting the "Presidential Physical Fitness Award" in elementary school with something that looked like "Youcy Reagou") would be pleased, although that Junior Jumble effect on the license plate gives it a quavering, plaintive touch.

Another thing that I miss about the eighties is that people were just giving drugs away left and right, as in this screenshot. I remember my first experience with illicit substances -- arms spread, I was running around in dizzying circles on the sidewalk outside my tenement building, going "NEEEEERRRRRRRRR KAK-A-KAK-A-KAK" and imagining scores of innocent villagers fleeing my invincible Death From Above, when a seedy-looking sixth-grader came up and said "Hey kid. You really wanna fly?" Well, duh. When confronted later by my father, I told him that I'd learned it by watching him, OK? We had a good laugh and the credits rolled.

In NARC, Paul Shaffer and thousands of celebrity lookalikes comprise the villainous Das Lof Gang, who subvert decent society by flagrantly ignoring the posted "No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service" signs found at finer convenience stores.

Uh-oh, Paul, you've been "BUSTED"! Anyone who's ever stood around and watched NARC in attract mode will surely remember the stirring rap song, "(You're) BUSTED", that blared out of the head-level speakers. It utilized that clever "hiccup" effect, so that the lyrics sound something like this:

Y-Y-You're you're you're BUSTED / BUSTED B-B-BUSTED
Aw no, it's the / Aw no, aw no, it's the narcs, man / n-n-narcs, man

On the far right, we see a Das Lof'er flopping around on the ground, his sickly white gut a harsh reminder of the dangers of excess.

KRAK STOP!
KWAK STOP!
How do you like that -- an anti-drug game that doesn't actually mention drugs. Pretty neat trick, but they pulled it off on the NES. In the arcade, we see Dr. Spike "Hypoman" Rush striking a saucy little pose in front of the popular KRAK STOP (conveniently located on scenic KRAK Street). I wouldn't guess that "1 Billion Dead" would make the greatest advertising slogan, but maybe that's why I'm not an irresistable drug millionaire like Dr. Spike here.

But on the NES, Dr. Spike "Pegleg" Rush clearly has no time to primp and preen; he's got some KWAK to give away! KWAK KWAK KWAK. I could just say KWAK all day.

Work it, baby. Nothing says threatening quite like a mullet and fingerless gloves. What exactly is the point of fingerless gloves, anyway? You might as well have toeless fucking socks. The little dangly-skull earring is a souvenir of that RATT reunion concert tour (Back Into The Cellar 2000!) and would carry absolute gobs of street cred were it not for the fact that Dr. Spike looks to be about forty-five years old. Did Williams hire people to come in and pose for this game, or was it whoever happened to be wandering through the office that day? The fact that "Hypoman" is the most stylish character in the game speaks volumes.

I'd like to know just how he got his mouth that way. It must be all that KWAK. Chicks dig a man who can touch his nose with his upper lip.

Some more free drugs, sir? Dr. Spike seems to think that the best way to deal with meddling, well-intentioned sociopaths is to dose them up with KWAK. You wouldn't guess, but as it turns out, this works really, really well. "Must... fight... pleasant feeling... washing over body... wrath melting away..." gasps the player as the warm, delicious KWAK courses through his veins. Just as in real life, your body flashes all sorts of colors whilst under the effects of drugs; long-term KWAK abuse gives the flesh a permanent discoloration (left).

When your character dies of a drug overdose, he falls onto his back and slowly sinks into the ground. Director Danny Boyle would later steal this device to much fanfare in his KWAKsploitation film Trainspotting.

The KRAK STOP is, much to my heartfelt surprise, not a restaurant but just another drug lab. But what a drug lab! The commitment to excellence is obvious even to the layman; every surface is kept sparkling clean by friendly, courteous KRAK STOP personnel, and the space-age, ultra-mod design means you'll feel right at home. No drug lab is complete with lots of flashing lights and big turning gears and bubbling beakers full of colorful liquids, and KRAK STOP delivers. A must-see attraction when visiting KRAK City, this not-just-a-drug-lab also features a petting zoo, coin-operated rides for the kids, and understated hair metal piped in through concealed speakers. Five stars!

I wonder what K.R.A.K. stands for -- everything was an acronym in the eighties -- but I have to admire the utilitarian mind that named the syndicate in the first place. I think B.U.R.G.E.R. would be a good name for a fast food joint.

Joe Rockhed, A.K.A. Dumpster Man! P.C.P. Addict, Proceed With Caution!

That's what the NARC 2000 computer has to say about him, anyway. He's the coolest guy in the game, bar none. Not only does he throw fucking dumpsters around, he's damned near impervious to bullets, he can't be run over in the NARC-Mobile, and rockets just send him flying merrily through the air. That's a great way to keep kids from trying PCP. "This is angel dust. It'll make you stronger than Jesus and invincible. Now don't do it."

You'd think they'd show a little clemency, though -- with a name like "Joe Rockhed", your life is pretty much spelled out for you from the word go. It's not even spelled right, for fuck's sake. And he's wearing a jean jacket, which pretty much screams "all right, life, I give up". Actually, all Joe Rockhed screams is "BLARRGH", over and over and over. He really enjoys that PCP.

Here's our boy Joe in action, chucking a dumpster at Max Force and the NARC-Mobile (figure sold separately). I like the way his belly sticks out when he raises his arms above his head. And look --! There are those fucking fingerless gloves again. You know, they could win the War On Drugs in like five minutes if they'd just go out and arrest everyone who owns a pair of fingerless gloves.

Maybe it's just me, but I think Joe looks a bit like Larry Drake in this picture. Larry Drake is best remembered for his role as TV's "Retarded Guy", and also as Dr. Giggles. A friend of mine, I can't remember who at the moment, had a Dr. Giggles poster in his fucking bathroom -- I don't have any idea where he came up with a Dr. Giggles poster, or why -- and it was positioned so you couldn't sit down and take a shit without staring right at it. I thought you should know that this marks the game's only appearance of the ballyhooed NARC-Mobile. And half the time you're up against the remarkably car-proof Joe Rockhed.

As if it couldn't get any more retarded, NARC adds a couple more broken -- hell, they're fucking shattered -- chromosomes into the mix with a crazy clown. Hands up if you've never seen a crazy, evil clown in a video game. Yeah, that seems about right. I don't really think anyone likes clowns. My own clown-fear story: my great-aunt has this oil painting of a clown right in her entryway. (All my relatives were born and raised in Southeast Texas. Cut us some slack.) As a kid, I hated this painting. I would go to great pains to avoid it, including:
-climbing over the back fence to enter the house
-wearing sunglasses in the house
-closing my eyes and being led around by my mother
"Gee," my great-aunt finally said, "he sure doesn't like that painting, does he? That's funny. It was painted by a man who's in prison for murder." That's right, ladies and gentlemen, she had an oil painting of a clown painted by a fucking killer in her home's admittedly dubious place of honor. Good taste wins again!

But there is something redeeming about this clown, who has the fucking stupid name of "Kinky Pinky". He hangs out in KWAK City's bustling porn district with a bunch of anorexic lock-step bomb-throwing black guys. I don't think that you'll ever come across a porn shop called "Hole in Juan" in any other video game, ever, and this alone is enough to earn NARC my highest possible recommendation.

Here NARC begins to move away from it's staunch "due process of law" position, as it is impossible to arrest any of the vermin-ridden criminals on this level. Unfortunately, the ones that you can't arrest don't blow up real good, either; they just kind of soar away, kicking their spindly little legs, like Mary Poppins after waking up nude and bleeding in a seedy motel. Just blow them straight to hell and try to ignore this oversight.

Heh heh. "Hole in Juan".

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