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9/8/04: Super Duper Wuper Man

At some point about ninety trillion years ago, when the Earth was still congealing from gas and asteroidal dust, some bloke invented Superman, and Superman proceeded to become a pop culture icon.

Superman is pretty much squatting in the collective unconscious, and short of some massive global nuclear holocaust, will probably stay there. Even people who don't like comics know Superman. Even people who have been locked in the attic for four hundred years know Superman. Superman is the basis for all super-heroes. In fact, it is Superman we have to thank for the word 'super hero'.

Now, I know the bloke who invented Superman probably had absolutely no idea that he was setting the template for pretty much every comic book from then on, but even so, I feel an important issue remains: Why oh why oh why did he have to dress him like such a fucking queer?

Before Superman, capes were only worn by duellists, soldiers in trench warfare who didn't fancy being gassed to death, and QUEERS. Now, super-heroes too. Before Superman, skin-tight spandex body suits were only worn by circus acrobats and QUEERS. Now, also super-heroes. What kind of diseased brain could make that sort of link? "Fearless defender of mankind -> dressing like a fucking queer".

The most tragic thing about Superman is that, minus the costume, he really couldn't be more badass. Look at him. He's built like a brick shithouse that was built inside another brick shithouse. He's got a chin you could use as a set square. He's got the little Elvis kiss-curl in his hair and, if that's not enough for you, he can punch a person's head off and use his intestine as a skipping rope before the 'Hey, my head's been punched off' nerve impulse reaches the decapitated brain. And this guy's walking around dressed like he got lost in the 'Full-Figured' section of Mothercare.

The creator of Superman could really have been a little more responsible with the invention of this new genre, because these things can really stick. He must have been on some kind of unprescribed medicine, because I really don't want to assume that there really could be a mind out there that could think, without alien substances, "Hm, let's see, this guy's going to be the ultimate champion of truth and justice, so obviously I'm going to make him the perfect physical specimen. Now, what shall he wear? Dum de dum... suit of armour? No, that would be a little archaic. Oh, I know! I'll dress him like a fucking QUEER!"

And it caught on. It really caught on, presumably through fascination, because Superman came out in a time when going out without your shirt cuffs showing was considered something of a faux pas. Come on, pop culture, it's the 21st century. You see a lot weirder outfits on homeless people in the city centre. isn't it about time we reconsidered the cliche of the superhero costume?

Let's take a look at some other well-known ones.


Batman's costume - at least, the all-black one of later years - is actually kind of cool, but the problem with Batman is that he loses all credibility when he's standing next to the squeaky-voiced red and green mess he calls Robin. Without Robin, he's a deadly and foreboding vigilante, striking fear into the hearts of wrongdoers. With Robin, he seems more like some kind of unusually liberal scout master. And when you think about it, most of Batman's villains are comparatively rather soberly attired; usually just a variation on the suit and tie. It comes to something when it's down to the psychopaths and maniacs to set civilised dress standards.


I'm sorry, but... as much as Spider-man rocks socks off the block, his outfit just doesn't say 'spider' to me. It says 'those new full-body swimming costumes they wear at the Olympics, taken a little bit too far'. Now, Superman has the excuse that he's from another planet, and perhaps his parents took him to one too many showings of Priscilla Queen of the Desert and left him with some strange ideas of acceptable Earth clothing. Batman has the excuse that he's rich, and rich people are either lunatics or surrounded by toadying lackeys too scared to tell him he dresses like a blind retard. Spider-man doesn't have any excuse at all. He's supposed to be a really clever college student. A really clever college student who one day said to himself "I will avenge my uncle's memory by righting the wrongs of society, but that can wait until I've made myself a FABulous outfit." He didn't want to go out with Mary Jane because it would've put her in danger? Bollocks. He didn't want to go out with Mary Jane because he prefers cock.

I would just like to apologise to all gay people. I have nothing but respect for the gay community and their courageous abandonment of the repressive society's anachronistic moral code, and don't really think they all dress like prannies. I'd also like to apologise to the cast and crew of the Spider-man films for that last paragraph, and, well, let's just say I apologise to everyone in the world for this entire piece. Except Stan Lee. He's a twat.

- Yahtzee

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2/8/04: Lovely Lovely Girls

Before I begin, I guess I should tell you that Chefelf, my long-term internet chummy whom I almost certainly do not deserve, has gotten me a gig writing posts in the Lockergnome.com games channel. Unpaid, of course, but who knows where it could lead? I always knew that if I just prevaricated long enough, sooner or later writing jobs would come to me. I'll be posting little bloggy posts there pretty much every day, so check there regularly for bite-size samples of my fantastic wit.

Okay, what are we going to talk about today? Well, I thought I'd give a discourse on monster trucks for a while, then segue into discussing car engines, and finish off by posting a number of pictures of hot girls reclining in bikinis.

My favourite monster truck of all time probably has to be the Timber Wolf, pictured right, which once famously...

Have they gone?

Right. Sorry about that... that was all a cunning scheme to get rid of all the female readers, and the nancy boys sympathetic with their point of view. To appreciate today's article, you're all going to have to become the big, burly manly men we all are inside, so that we can point and guffaw obnoxiously at this:

Why We Like Girls

Now, the biggest surprise to me was that this site still exists. It's a Geocities Area51 page, for god's sake. The last time anyone registered one of those, New York had a skyline and Pokemon was still taken seriously. Of course, knowing Geocities, the mere act of linking to the page will no doubt bring it crashing down like the Hindenberg, so I uploaded a file of the bare text to here. Don't worry, you won't be missing anything, besides a horrible layout and some pictures of Sarah Michelle Gellar simpering.

We don't know who the author of this piece is. Sometimes I think that crap like this spontaneously generates if you get enough idiots together in the same place. Let's assume this does have an author. Who could this author be? I have some possibilities:

1. A man who has never known the touch of a woman
2. A man who spent the first forty years of his life locked in a romantic bookshop
3. A man who has somehow become romantically involved with a mythical goddess
4. A man who has a full-size cut-out of the elf chick from Everquest in his bedroom
5. The most pussywhipped man on Earth
6. A crafty girl

Let me tell you something. Either this guy (we'll assume it's a guy) has been going out with a different kind of girl than the ones I'm familiar with, or he is badly, badly deluded. Let's take a look at some of his reasoning. I've coloured the little queen's words pink because he's a little queen.

They will always smell good even if its just shampoo.

OK, now I'm certain he's never been in a relationship, because he's clearly never been breathed on by a girl first thing in the morning. His experience of sniffing girls is presumably limited to sniffing chairs they've just been sitting on, or wandering around the park attempting to catch a whiff of female joggers as they bounce by.

How cute they look when they sleep.

I think he may be thinking of puppies, but if he isn't, it becomes ten times worse. We already know that he's never been in a relationship, so the only explanation for how he thinks he can write about sleeping girls would be if he's spent time up ladders with binoculars watching slumber parties.

How cute they are when they eat.

We get it, dude, you think girls are cute. You don't have to list all the times of the day when they're cute. They're not like phases of the moon. Besides, I'm not following your logic with this one. I only find girls cute when they're eating hotdogs or foot-long sub sandwiches, and in both cases 'cute' isn't exactly the word I'd use. So, what next? How cute they are when they breathe?

Because they are always warm even when its minus 30 out side.

That's not because of girl magic, you twat, it's because of the circulatory system, and maybe you haven't noticed, but men have one too. Besides, my girlfriend takes great delight in sticking her hand down the back of my shirt, and let me tell you, it's always like chucking an eskimo spider down my collar. And keep in mind that we live in Australia. In Australia, if you're not sweltering, you're either underwater or dead.

The way they look good no matter what they wear.

Okay, matey, I'm not going to tell you to go outside, because I fear the shock would annihilate your brain. But have you ever watched Sex and the City? You know how the main character looks like a horse that's been put through the Cenobite-o-matic from Hellraiser 2? Well, in the real world, a lot of women are even less attractive than that.

The way they fish for compliments even though you both know that you think she's the most beautiful thing on this earth.

Jesus, you're a pussy. When you cross the road, do they have to erect a sign saying 'CAUTION: BIG PUSSY CROSSING'? Let me tell you something. You're the kind of bloke who gets dumped for being 'too clingy', and then spends the next twenty years following his ex around going 'I'm not clingy! I'm not clingy!' never realising the bitter irony of it all until you get the restraining order.

How cute they are when they argue.

Or, to put that another way, "How cute they are when they're screaming at you to stop sniffing them in the park".

The way she says "lets not fight anymore" even though you know that an hour later....

An hour later WHAT? You'll fuck? You'll bake cookies together? Oh, I see, you'll be fighting again. And this is a reason why you like girls? Make no mistakes, Mr. Anonymous - you're the bitch in this relationship.

The way they kiss when you do something nice for them.

If I did all the washing up and Sarah expected to pay me back for it with one measly snog before going back to Ape Escape, I'd sulk so hard that rascally children will come around and use my lower lip as a diving board. That's the kind of relationship we have. We keep the duties even, and I don't tie a ribbon around my dick and call it a birthday present.

The way they hit you and expect it to hurt.

You know, we're an enlightened race, now, mister. If your spouse is abusing you, you don't have to put a brave face on it anymore, there are hotlines you can ring. Hey, suddenly this document makes a lot of sense if you imagine that, just prior to writing it, the author was concussed with a rolling pin.

The way you miss them.

I'm assuming the absent second half of this line is "when you hurl throwing knives at them, giving them good reason to come and beat you up again. Help me, somebody."

The way their tears make you want to change the world so that it doesn't hurt her anymore.....Yet regardless if you love them, hate them, wish they would die or know that you would die without them... it matters not. Because once in your life, whatever they were to the world they become everything to you. When you look them in the eyes, traveling to the depths of their souls and you say a million things without trace of a sound, you know that your own life is inevitable consumed within the rhythmic beatings of her very heart. We love them for a million reasons, No paper would do it justice. It is a thing not of the mind but of the heart. A feeling. Only felt.

Shut the fuck up.

- Yahtzee

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29/7/04: Neurotic Thriller

Could it be? Have I actually written a movie review to go into the 'reviews' section? And it's an erotic thriller? Yes indeedy-doody-do. It's a review of some film called I Like To Play Games Too, starring Some Woman and Some Woman's Tongue.

Go read it before I box your ears and kick you in the shins.

- Yahtzee

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26/7/04: Can I Play, Daddy?

It took three days for my patience to give out. I added a walkthrough to the 7 Days site.

- Yahtzee

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23/7/04: Why I'm So Great

Just as I suspected, upload a new game and expect fifty billion bug reports by the following morning. Well, I hopefully fixed most of the major and common ones people had, and I uploaded it again, so you can download it again if it's important to you. I was kind of expecting this 'cos this game has some of the more complex programming I've ever done.

Oh yeah, and I'm going to let all you stuck people stew for a few more days, then give a link to the solution. This is so you don't all cheat all the way through in one go, you big twerps.

- Yahtzee

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22/7/04: Seven Days Eclectic

Okay, here we go. I'm releasing 7 Days A Skeptic. It's been tested enough over the last few days, and fingers crossed all the really serious bugs are out.

You can see the page I made for it here, or if you're one of those grabby sorts, you can download the game directly from here.

7 Days A Skeptic, as should be clear enough, is the sequel to 5 Days A Stranger, the multiple-award-winning horror creation of mine. Now, I received a nifty amount of e-mails asking me if I was going to put Trilby in another game, and now it's time to disappoint those people.

7 Days is set four hundred years after 5 Days, on an exploratory scout ship charting a distant galaxy. Trilby is long dead, and the memory of DeFoe Manor is confined to myth, legend and ancient history. The ship's crew of six have discovered an unidentified object floating in space - what appears to be an unprotected metal locker.

Well, I'll let the game tell the rest. Enjoy.

- Yahtzee

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19/7/04: Gay Gaytress Gayssic

It's funny how things look in retrospect. Hitler, for example, was no doubt kicking himself in his bunker as he looked back over the last few years, and realised that perhaps seizing power just to murder an entire race of people might have been a rather wanky thing to do. I myself look back over works I wrote as recently as six months ago, and cringe so hard that my buttocks fly off like bum rockets.

A few years ago, before I left England, I was quite the avid player of Team Fortress Classic. TFC, for the uninitiated, is a multiplayer mod for Half-Life which allows people to roleplay as a soldier who dies and is resurrected every fourteen seconds, like Jesus only more hardcore. Oh, how I enjoyed playing TFC back then, dear reader. I was even in a clan for a short period, and fortunately I left before they realised I was crap.

Anyway, after a while, I stopped. I'd acquired a new version of TFC or a new version of Gamespy or something and, whichever it was, the bloody game stopped working. I shrugged my shoulders shadly, and got on with my life. It was only recently, coming to Australia and allowing Mr. ADSL to set up home in the new computer, that I was able to play TFC again.

"Goodness me," I found myself thinking. "I used to avidly play this game? With the benefit of age and wisdom, I realise that it is quite gay."

Why is it quite gay, you ask? Well, if you'll have some fucking patience, I will tell you.

TFC has nine different character classes you can play as. I've dabbled with all of them and there is a situation in which they would all be useful, that situation being National Gay Day. Here's my roundup.

1. Scout
The scout is the fastest class, so in order to balance that out, he's significantly less strong than thin air. Seriously, all you have to do is trip him over and his entire skeleton will disintegrate the instant he hits the floor. His job is to run into the enemy base at full speed, screaming his head off, and be instantly reduced to coleslaw by enemy fire. He then comes back to life and reports everything he has learned about the enemy base to his team. Generally this will be along the lines of "It's exactly like our base, only a different colour. I didn't get to see much of it as it was a total blur for the three point two seconds that passed before I found myself occupying the same space as about four thousand bullets."

2. Heavy Weapons
From the opposite end of the spectrum, we have the Heavy Weapons Guy. He gets about three feet of armour over every inch of his body and a Gatling gun the same size as his atrociously large penis. This of course means that he can barely move, and needs to get his teammates to wheel him onto the battlefield on one of those trolleys from the Silence of the Lambs. While his gun is indeed powerful and badass, it's also about as accurate as a drunk gorilla trying to put a thread through a needle, and runs out of ammo after about ten seconds. And what are you then? You're some fat guy who can't move sitting in the path of heavy enemy fire, holding what might as well be the world's biggest toilet roll holder.

3. Pyro
The Pyro, in his jolly flameproof suit, gets a flamethrower, a gun that fires incendiary rockets, and incendiary grenades. Sometimes he lies awake late at night, thinking "Why does everything I do have to do with fire? Is that all I am? Why does no-one ever want to see my pencil sketchings, why is it always 'Oh, Pyro, go set fire to that bloke, would you?'" Then he cries like a little girl. In his defense, though, he's handy around Heavy Weapons Guys, 'cos he can run around them spraying them with fire and laughing with glee as their gatling bullets seriously menace the wallpaper.

4. Medic
The medic is a happy little flower child, dedicated to the wellbeing of all mankind that's the same colour as him. He has a medkit in a box which he uses to heal people by smacking it in their face a few times. Some of you may recognise this technique from the episode of ER entitled "The Day Carter Stopped Giving A Shit". The helpful little goblins that live in the medkit are sophisticated enough to differentiate between teams; they will heal your team and give the enemy syphilis. So you can't try to patch up a wounded enemy should you ever want to recreate a heartwarming scene of mercy from some gay war film.

5. Soldier
Ah, the 'soldier', prince of the unspecific terminology. He's really just a rocket launcher guy. His deadly rockets are best foiled by getting out of the way, although don't feel pressured to do so, as the rockets are kind enough to move at slow walking pace. Chances are they'll never even reach you, as on the way they'll be head-butted by heavy weapons guys who wish to end their disease of a life.

6. Engineer
The engineer is perhaps the most important player to any team wishing to mount a strong defence. His wizardry with a wrench allows him to build mounted sentry guns. Or rather, mounted sentry gun, for he can only have one. Having built one, he then sits next to it twiddling his thumbs, waiting for an enemy to come in and get splatted against the wall. Playing as the engineer, therefore, makes for a very contemplative game, not unlike fishing. Incidentally, if the engineer smacks a teammate in the teeth with his wrench, it regenerates their armour. He discovered this one day while playing a hilarious if somewhat unsophisticated practical joke.

7. Demoman
The demolitions expert's skills are somewhat limited in the sniper-ridden battlefield. He can lay explosives to blow blockages out of the enemy's back passage, but beyond that he's pretty much total crap. His main weapon is a grenade launcher, for god's sake, largely considered by me (and therefore everyone) to be the stupidest FPS weapon of all time. But wait, it gets better: you get another one! Yes, you get two grenade launchers. It's like raping someone anally, then apologising by doing it again.

8. Sniper
TFC is a game of many layers which can be played in many different angles. If you play as a sniper, for example, it suddenly because a point-and-click adventure. An adventure game where there's only one puzzle repeated many, many times. Use Gun On Man. It's a very popular class with beginners for obvious reasons, but if you choose it then I want you to know that I believe you are gayer than John Q. Gay in Gayland on Gay People Get In Free Day.

9. Spy
Now, this is the class of a manly man. Leave the heavy weapons guys and the scouts to the battlefield to attempt to deflect bullets with their forehead; the spy takes the subtler approach. A man alone, sneaking in the enemy base through the back door, tip-toeing past the respawn dropping grenades as he goes. He gets hallucinogen grenades and a tranquilliser gun, but just as you're thinking he's a soft touch, he also has a knife that makes people EXPLODE like a Christmas turkey with a grenade up its arse. The spy's main selling point, though, is that he can disguise himself as an enemy class. It's not as useful as it sounds. There's no class you can disguise yourself as that wouldn't look suspicious running into its own base, tossing grenades under the sentry guns. You could try to go as a medic, but then you run the risk of an enemy running in front of you expecting to get healed, leaving you in a very awkward position, from which the only escape is to ventilate his face.

Oh yeah, and any day now:


- Yahtzee

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16/7/04: Yes Indeed

No update this week, 'cos I'm rather hard at work on my current little fancy. Er... I know I've sworn a solemn oath never to reveal what I'm up to until it's done, so that the option to bail out is always available to me, but... well, I'm nearly finished, and a little bit of hype never hurt. So here's a visual clue, and it's all you're getting for now.

- Yahtzee

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All material not otherwise credited by Ben 'Yahtzee' Croshaw
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