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25/4/05: Those Cunning Freudians At Nintendo

If you go and talk to "smarty" men with "common sense" who use "facts" to back up "theories" in an "environment supportive to philosophical argument", they'll tell you that Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker on the Nintendo Gamecube is a bog-standard Nintendo action-adventure wherein a young lad rescues a princess from a diabolical villain and saves the world from generic destruction.

This is WRONG.

As I have recently discovered, Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker on the Nintendo Gamecube is, in reality, a complex Freudian allegory for puberty and a young boy's struggle to define his sexuality.

Allow me to explain.

SPOILER WARNING: Our last stop tonight is Spoiler Junction. Those of you who do not wish to go to Spoiler Junction should disembark now at Grand Central Ignorance.

Caught in the act! We open with our hero (named Link on the rare occasions when the player chooses not to abuse the 'pick your own name' privilege) awakening on his home island, a wide-eyed (VERY wide-eyed) youngster on the onset of his early teens, entirely ignorant of sexual matters and confused by the new stirring in his loins (see accompanying screenshot). The game begins when Link's little sister is kidnapped by the evil Ganondorf and flown away to his fortress of horror, and Link vows to bring her home.

Link's sister here represents the feminine ideal. Although they are blood related and she is underage (insofar as we can tell in a game where everyone is built like a toddler), it seems inevitable that she would have been the first target of Link's blossoming appreciation for the fairer sex, being the only female on their tiny island who isn't fat, old or otherwise engaged. In snatching her away, Ganondorf is stealing Link's connection to heterosexuality, in the hope of eventually luring him over to his dark side of human lust. Link is given a sword (which he holds stabbing euphemistically upwards) to defend himself with, and his grandmother gives him a shield, being an overprotective parental figure concerned by rapid sexual development in her children.

The rest of the game is a masterfully crafted metaphor for a young man's sexual journey, in which Link finds himself caught in the middle of a battle between the King of Hyrule (representing heterosexuality, being a 'king' and therefore a figurehead of ordinary society) and the evil Ganondorf (representing homosexuality, due to his poofy hairdo). The game's message, then, is somewhat conservative, as the player is expected to reject Ganondorf's implied bum prodding in favour of the righteous, 'true' way.

Link's first attack on Ganondorf's fortress ends in failure, with Ganondorf's pet giant bird (with wings outstretched, resembling an upside-down triangle, the sometimes emblem of homosexuality) hurling Link aside (a symbolic rejection - Link fails to rescue his incestual sister, thus he is a victim of cock blocking) and leaving him for dead, making the premature assumption that he has succumbed to the gay. He is rescued by the King of Hyrule, at this stage taking the form of a magical boat. What shape are boats, generally?

Caught in the act!

By encouraging Link to step into the magical boat/vagina, he is restored once again to the 'correct' sexuality. Over the course of the game, the boat becomes Link's permanent safe haven, offering protection from the rigours of the world. By entering the nice safe warm vagina/boat, he affirms his studliness and gains strength. Is it any coincidence that Link's first task is to acquire a a great big throbbing mast for his vagina/boat, or that Ganondorf's henchmen seem hell-bent on knocking Link out of his ride.

While the King's offered vagina is nothing but helpful, the representatives of female genitalia among Link's enemies are universally negative. No end of enemies have huge, wide grinning twatmouths, an undoubtable appearance of vagina dentata (I'll pause for a moment so that everyone can look that up. Horrible concept, isn't it), and one boss in particular quite clearly represents a great big flapping twat on the end of a big spiny cock, a possible metaphor for Link's confusion. And then there's the chomping plant beasts. While not overtly sexual, take a look at the seeds they leave behind for you to pick up:

Caught in the act!

About halfway through the game Link rescues his sister, and she plays pretty much no further part in proceedings - he is no longer interested in her sexually, having devoted his time instead to the annihilation of Ganondorf, a remarkably clever allusion to closet homosexuals being the most ardent gay-bashers. Seeing this, the King of Hyrule realises that a new love interest is required to keep Link's motivation balanced. Step forward, Princess Zelda.

When we first see Zelda, she either is or represents the classic lesbian. She dresses in a masculine fashion, is the captain of a pirate crew, and rejects society's preferred image of the quiet, meek woman. Despite being surrounded by big tough virile men she shows no desire, appearing completely asexual. She is initially also contemptible of Link. The first time she and her crew appear to do something unselfish is when they turn up to assist with the rescue of Link's sister, brazenly illuminating her own desire for the feminine ideal. The King realises that Zelda has already strayed from the correct path, so he has Link bring her to his lair. Before our eyes, the King literally transforms Zelda, engulfing her in light. When the glow fades, she is dressed in a hugely elaborate and impractical ballgown, and her personality abruptly changes to that of a stereotypical helpless princess, thus restoring the male/female dynamic in accordance with the King's standards. She is promptly kidnapped by Ganondorf, once again separating Link from the recipient of his burgeoning heterosexual lust.

But the most telling symbolism occurs earlier. In preparation for gathering the Master Sword, Link must gather three "pearls" from three different locations, which he must then "deliver" to a trio of "goddess statues". Even if this wasn't intended to be a blatant allegory for impregnation, the object that subsequently rises from the ocean removes all doubt.

Caught in the act!


Quod Erat Demonstrandum, fuckers.

Next week: Super Mario Sunshine And Mankind's Rejection Of The Sacred Feminine

- Yahtzee

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18/4/05: Maybe Baby

(everyone else relax)

Hello, morons!

You've no doubt gotten the impression from the media and overbearing middle-aged spinsters that childbirth is some wonderful, magical experience of complete natural beauty and serenity, one step up from an image of playful dewy-eyed gazelles with shining coats skipping lazily around the crystal-clear waters of an unspoilt forest lagoon. You may have encountered the consensus that having children is the most beautiful thing a person will ever do.

This is bollocks.

In terms of being misrepresented by the media, childbirth is right up there with sex. Now, if some kind of horrific lab accident brought all our movies and TV to life, then sex would only take place between tanned, good-looking well-endowed models, who move in languidly erotic fashion while keeping their pubes hidden behind a convenient limb. They're all moaners or screamers, and merely touching each other is enough to make smooth saxophone jazz start playing in the background. Anyone who's been involved in real life sex will tell you exactly how much bollocks this is. Sex is squalid, uncomfortable, and messy. A pimply arse bobbing up and down in the moonlight while you and your partner huff in each others' ears like asthmatics.

Giving birth is kind of like that - generally considered wonderful, actually horrific. It's even worse, actually, because at least shagging has the bonus of being basically pleasurable. Squirting out children is just very very nasty in a quite unashamedly Gigeresque way. You've got this horrible bloodstained entity trying to squeeze out of somebody's orifice that is far too small to comfortably accommodate it, while both parties are screaming their fucking heads off. From what I understand, it really really really really really really hurts.

SHOCKING FACT - Some people consider pregnancy to be beautiful.

MORE SHOCKING FACT - Some people consider pregnancy to be SEXY.

And then, when the little bastard has finally plopped out, you take it home and get surrounded by doting female friends who smother it with praise, firm in the knowledge they're not the ones who will have to clean up after it, stop it from crying at night and keep enough of an eye on it to keep it from crawling into traffic. In having children, you have made an unspoken agreement to sacrifice your own lifestyle in favour of the happiness of this selfish little crab. Oh sure, you can still try to work for a living or take a break from being a parent, but that's giving the kid a first class ticket to Fuckup Street Station later in life.

And let's not forget that human beings are old news. There are over six billion of them walking the Earth as we speak, and more are born each day than get killed. Whatever talents your bundle of joy may have as they grow up, I can guarantee you that there will be at least ten people who do it better. Thanks for considering making a donation to the human race, but I'm afraid it's currently unnecessary. Call back after judgment day or something.

I appreciate some women feel inclined to have children as a response to some kind of nurturing instinct. If this is the case, get a puppy. If you're not convinced, read this chart.

Babies are incredibly painful to give birth to.
The only pain you'll get from adopting a puppy is having to pick one from all the ones in the pound.
Babies routinely shit their pants for you to clean up.
Puppies shit on the floor, but can be swiftly trained to do so outside, where they will fertilise your garden.
Babies scream their heads off at the slightest provocation.
Puppies can just about whine and sniff.
Babies make constant demands for food and attention.
Puppies turn sommersaults with ecstacy if you just walk into the room.
Babies can barely lift their own heads.
You can take puppies for walks almost immediately.
If the baby can't sleep, it won't let you, either.
Puppies sleep most of the time.
Pretty much anything you do to a baby could fuck them up for the rest of their life.
A dog in a domestic setting will be mentally a puppy right up until they die.
Babies look like very small, very ugly old men.
At some point, you have to teach them about sex.
You can cut off a puppy's bollocks and no-one will think any less of you for it.
When you have a baby, you have the satisfaction in knowing that your genes will remain in the human genepool after you die. THEY'RE SOOOO CUTE

And remember: when you have a baby instead of getting a puppy, you doom that puppy that could potentially have been yours to a life in the pound, unwanted and unloved, until it finally dies from neglect, illness, or getting in the way of another, bigger puppy. Every time you have a child, a puppy dies.

- Yahtzee

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10/4/05: Nirates and Pinjas

Every once in a while, I like to use this site to showcase some real intelligent thinking and debate. But most of the time it's shit like this:


Read it and be merry.

- Yahtzee

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7/4/05: Dance Dance Resolution

I think it would be pretty safe to say that recent world events have been a bit of a pisser and no mistake. Between the war on terrorism and the war in Iraq (which may or may not be the same thing), the world is descending into a state of wartorn chaos and oppression and everyone's waiting for the communists to come around and beat us with sticks until we stop believing in the indomitable human spirit. It is a time of anguish, pain and uncertainty. Mankind has never needed to express themselves with dance more.

Yes, dance. Did a great man not once say "Nothing left for me to do but dance / all these bad times I'm going through just dance"? Dance is the answer to all our problems. Sure, bombers might drop their payloads down our unsuspecting throats any second, but getting up and dancing yourself into a dance high will make all these things float away. Why, you might even be oblivious of the white-hot shrapnel that rockets through your torso until the soft squelch of your lungs hitting the opposite wall.

With this in mind, I have invented a special dance that marries current events with the joy of dance, so that you can gyrate yourself into a tizzy whilst assuring your observers that you are savvy with latest news. I call this dance:

The Fucked World Boogie!

I'll pause for a second so that all the people who were fucking blown away can claw their way back onto the edge of their seats. And now, a simple step-by-step guide to this revolutionary new dance.

1. The 9/11 Jive
With one arm bent at the elbow with the forearm vertical, smash it horizontally with the fist of your other arm. Then change arms and repeat. This represents the attack upon the World Trade Centre, but since that isn't obvious you might want to accompany the move by screaming "NEEEEEEOWWWWWN BOOOOSHHH AIEEEE DIE" or "THIS REPRESENTS THE ATTACK UPON THE WORLD TRADE CENTRE".
2. The Osama Bin Laden Gets Demonised Shuffle
Hold your arms like a velociraptor about to attack and bring up one of your knees, then sharply lean backwards as if you're Godzilla seriously debating the pros and cons of laying waste to Tokyo 'neath your titanic feet. This represents the manner in which Bin Laden was portrayed by the media as a monstrous destroyer of cities, so you might want to twist your face into a demonic sneer as you go.
3. The George W. Bush Invades Afghanistan Hotstep
Essentially the same as the Osama Bin Laden Gets Demonised Shuffle, but do it with glazed eyes and a vacant grin.
4. The United Nations Sweep
Stand defiantly and sweep your arm across in a gesture of denial, then repeat with the other arm. This is supposed to depict the UN explaining to the US that there is insufficient grounds for an invasion of Iraq. If you were in favour of the war, feel free to make an optional 'wanker' gesture with your free hand.
5. The Ha Ha We're Doing It Anyway So Suck It Rumba
Turn around and arrogantly shake your posterior at an imaginary outraged audience of Europeans and other traitors.
6. The Corpse
Immediately hurl yourself to the floor and lie still for half an hour. It must be exactly half an hour or the message is lost.
7. Start Again
Get back on your feet and begin anew, thus illustrating that recent events are just the latest example of a larger trend and we are powerless to prevent our lives from being controlled by bellicose lunatics with no-one to answer to. Repeat until nuclear annihilation.


Hey, fellow poverty-stricken! I'd like to share a little frugal recipe I came up with when we ran out of cookies last night.

Yahtzee's Drinking Chocolate Surprise
INGREDIENTS: One slice of white bread. Powdered drinking chocolate. Butter (optional).

1. Toast bread on both sides with a grill, toaster, or nearest convenient burning dustbin.
2. Butter toast while still hot so that it melts quickly (if you're too poor to have butter, just lick the toast a few times).
3. Sprinkle on drinking chocolate powder generously.
4. Wait while the powder absorbs the melted butter. Pass the time by drawing a face on your hand and pretending you have a friend.
5. Cut into squares for no reason.
6. Eat! It's called Drinking Chocolate Surprise because, surprisingly, it isn't completely disgusting.
7. Cry.

Yum yum! If you enjoyed this taste sensation, I'll be sharing more recipes for hungry peasants with understocked kitchen cupboards in future! For the love of God donate to the site!

- Yahtzee

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3/4/05: Dead Pope's Society

So said my inbox this morning. I wasn't aware the BBC were in the business of snuff films, and they certainly seem to have gone a bit slack on proofreading, but there you go.

The pope is dead. This came as an immense shock to me. I'm astonished he hung on this long when he already looked like a member of the walking dead five years ago. In fact, I'm pretty certain he died in 1994 and what we've seen since then is in fact a sophisticated automaton constructed from eggshells and fine china porcelain, which can't be handled too roughly or its entire skeletal system will disintegrate. The Queen Mother? She died in 1976. But technology wasn't sophisticated back then, so they just shoved a broom handle up her skirt and puppeted her around galas and events. It was only in 2001 that the puppeteers collectively decided that it was time to lay the old girl to rest, because her hand had fallen off during a banquet for the German Environmental Minister and quite ruined a perfectly good creme brulee.

But I digress. The Vatican is now short of one pope and everyone is tacking on their concerned faces and making solemn speeches to disguise the fact that they couldn't care less. You'd think, by some of the eulogies I've been reading, that there's never going to be another pope again. Well, newsflash, children: there is going to be another pope, and another, and another, and unless one of them turns out to be Ming the Merciless or something the effect of this on 99.9999% of us will be precisely dick. They could stick their stupid pope hat on a broom and it wouldn't make one nano-iota of difference in the lives of any of us. Unless you personally were the bloke who wiped John Paul II's most holy rectum clean after his most holy bowel evacuations, your life is going to be exactly the same with a dead pope as it was with a living one.

But don't let my shockingly unfounded resentment for Pope Flaky Skin bother you. Maybe I'm just bitter because they're never going to let me do the job, as much as that would kick arse. Maybe I just hate the fact that the Catholic Church is so out of touch that they might as well be riding around on woolly mammoths, and maybe it scares me that this same institution owns billions upon billions of lira in land and property all over the world and have been trying for umpteen thousand years to mindlessly propagate the alleged truth of some frankly quite bizarre mythology with such vehemence as to crush dissenters underfoot and retard scientific progress. Maybe it just gets on my tits that no member of the Catholic Church is ever going to stand up and say "Oh, I guess we're preaching a load of old bollocks. Please be patient while we return all your tithes and land and bring all those people we killed back to life."

It's the next pope I feel sorry for. The last pope's been in place for twenty-seven years. Twenty-seven years! You know what it's like when you're replacing someone everybody's gotten used to.

"Oh sorry, Mr. Pope, but the old pope always liked to have all his food liquidised before we brought it to him."

"No, you see, the old pope and me had a little understanding. He didn't mind if I didn't pay my rent as long as I came and brushed the cobwebs off the top of his head every afternoon."

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Pope, but the old pope would always skip that part of the service so we could all get home early for naptime."

"No, you see, the old pope and me had a little understanding. I'd fuck children up the arse and he'd cover it up."

Of course, they have to pick the next pope first. And for me, and a lot of other people, this will be the first time a new pope is picked in our entire lifetimes. I'm not sure how the selection process goes. Do the cardinals just appoint one of their number? Do they vote on all the interested parties? Or do they just hold a big lottery where the winner becomes pope and the runner-up gets a set of steak knives?

However it goes, I'd like to make a couple of suggestions for candidates:

Okay, so he's been dead for a million years, but for all those people who've gotten used to their pope being an old decrepit mummy it wouldn't be too much of a lurch. He's also been encased in a block of ice for millenia, but that would just provide an excellent photo opportunity as laughing children use him as a sledge.

Finally, a pope who can cleanse the underworld of wrongdoers and pray for their immortal souls when he gets home! While he may not seem like an obvious candidate to you, keep in mind that he has many years' experience in dressing up effeminately and having rather suspicious relationships with young boys.

Some might call it a strange choice, but I think Pope Dracula would provide a much-needed bridge between the Catholic faith and the evil progeny of Satan. Oh, hang on. The body parts of dead popes are holy relics, and holy relics are lethal to vampires. So if you make a vampire the pope, the universe would explode. Man, this pope selection process is more complicated than I thought.

Now this is a pope you can get behind. If, y'know, the floor needs sweeping.

- Yahtzee

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27/3/05: Future Imperfect


*Whoa, I just looked up Seppuku on Wikipedia to check my spelling and it's even cooler than I thought it was. Did you know that disgraced warriors had to write a 'Death Poem' before they started disembowelling themselves? I wonder if anyone catalogued them. I wonder if they ever got a bit samey.


I was doing some research for my Gridwerx writing and I came across something that I thought was well worth a metaphorical back-alley mugging on this website, so here it is. It's a timeline of future technology from a website whose name is absolutely, unequivocally asking for it: BT Exact. You can check it out here (Note: site down at time of writing, may be back up by the time you read this). Adobe Acrobat is required to view it, but if you're on the internet and you haven't got hold of that yet then you are clearly a big dumb jerk.

It was written a few years ago, in 2001, so let's see exactly how exact BT Exact were. I will list some of the funnier headings, and the year in which BT decided they were destined to come about. With the premise appropriately set up, let's begin.

2001: AI Doctors

Just to clarify, yes, this was written in 2001, and these wankers thought that robot doctors would come about in the same year. I'm not sure we want to put our medical wellbeing into the hands of the all-powerful machine empire. Did we learn nothing from Terminator 3? Apart from the fact that Arnold Schwarzeneggar can act in the same way that octopi can figure skate.

2002: Virus aimed at toys released

Did they release any viruses aimed at toys three years ago? I don't know, but just to play safe, always tell your Teddy Ruxpin doll to make sure his email attachments come from reliable sources before opening them.

2003: Chat show hosted by robot

We do have that, it's called Parkinson HA HA HA HA HA HA HA CHOKE.

2004: Confessions to AI priest

Oh, I can see this working.

"Forgive me father, for I have sinned."
"I forgive you., why do you think I have sinned?"
"Er... no, I sinned and I want to confess."
"You sound very uncertain. Why do you sinned and want to confess?"
"I want to confess because I forced my little brother into giving it to me up the arse."
"Ah, I see why you forced your little brother into giving it to me up the arse."
"What should I do, father?"
"Submit your flesh."

2008: Hospitals use virtual queueing system

So... I guess that instead of going up to a desk and taking a number, you put on a VR helmet and experience a computer simulation of going up to a desk and taking a number. Seriously, guys, does anyone know what the fuck a virtual queueing system is supposed to be? Maybe it's a typo. Maybe they meant 'virtual queering system', for use by elderly and infirm patients who crave the taste of cock.

2010: Orgasm by email

I'm sure I don't need to tell you that I couldn't stop laughing when I read that. How the hell does this work? Do you get an attachment, and when you open it, the floppy drive spits a little jet of spunk into your face? Trust me, future technology people, you really shouldn't put onto the internet something that could so horrendously be abused by spam merchants. Frankly, I shudder to think. Besides, if making someone come were as simple as pressing a button, you'd deprive all the internet nerds of the only exercise they get.

2012: Orgasmatron

I swear I didn't make that up, and I swear they didn't give any information beyond 'Orgasmatron'. I guess the name was meant to tell us everything we needed to know. Feel free to decide for yourself what the Orgasmatron is, its size, and the outcome of its fight with Gamera.

2013: Kitchen rage caused by electronic gadgets

Whuh? Kitchen rage? Caused by electronic gadgets? Oh sure, I can really see my mum tearing out her hair in fury shrieking "Damn this sophisticated microwave oven! I HATE THE WAY IT WARMS MY FOOD EFFECTIVELY AND CONVENIENTLY!" I know I'm certainly a powder keg waiting to go off every time I'm forced to spend time with a kettle.

2020: Deep underground cities in Japan

"Hey, Hiroshi, what are we going to do about Americans trying to dominate the console market?"
"We'll hide in this hole until they go away."

2040: Asteroid diversion used as weapon

Now that sounds like an idea that probably looked good on paper, or as an attack in a Final Fantasy game, but in practise I'm sure a lot of flaws would become apparent. Like how asteroids take too long to arrive, leaving your target country with enough time to put together a team consisting of a strong independent woman, a streetwise black man, a rugged white hero with a troubled past and a labrador called Chips to destroy the asteroid and save the day. And let's not forget that smashing an asteroid into the Earth to destroy your enemies is like hurling yourself into the fires of Mount Doom to get rid of a troublesome mouth ulcer.

2100: Between 15 and 95cm rise in sea level

Y'know, that's a pretty wide margin you have there. Would you like to be more specific? I mean, this could mean life or death for Warwick Davis.

51998: Return of Keo satellite

And I can only imagine how the Keo satellite will feel when it returns home to find that an asteroid has wiped out the entire western hemisphere, the Japanese have evolved into a race of scuttling mole people, and all the midgets have drowned.

- Yahtzee

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