Zartan's back. He's a goddamned Machine he is. You know the story:
Koei makes horrible historical-simulation game, Jaded Journalist
writes long-winded rambling article about it. Good times had by
all.
By: Zartan
01/13/03
Monkey Donkey takes us on a drunken, rambling, descent into the
hell that is Video Game Yaoi Slash Comic Hell. Yeah, this should
be on EA,
but this was originally written for us. TAKE THAT, LAGO!
By: Monkey Donkey; 11/22/02
It's all about the game, and how you play it; All about control,
and if you can take it; It's all about your debt, and if you can
pay it; It's all about pain, and who's gonna make it
By: Tome; 10/26/02
The CAPalert guy takes on the latest scourge to defile The Youth
of America: Those Dirty, Sinful Video Games. At this rate, in about
five years he's going to stumble across Doom... and when that happens...
God have mercy on our souls....
By: Tome The CAPalert Guy
Masturbatory
Links. Go Forth
And Be Excellent
To Each Other.
Classic
Zeroes Material
By: Zartan; circa 7/23/00
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.
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!"
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.)
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.
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:
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. 
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).
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!
Joe
Rockhed, A.K.A. Dumpster Man! P.C.P. Addict, Proceed With Caution!
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.
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:
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.