Latest Chris & Trilby comic: #85: Revelations
7/6/05:
Zombies of Wimbledon Common
You know what's
great? Eternal Darkness. The Gamecube game. It's
great. It's one of those games that make me wish
I knew how to erase portions of my memory so I
can play it for the first time and piss my
trousers anew. If you're not familiar with the
game, it's about a three-way superstar prize
fight between three ancient demonic gods and the
doomed losers who have to stop them from
destroying the universe by harnessing the magical
power of courier quests.
I don't usually
get into survival horror. The first Resident Evil
was the worst game I have ever played. The voice
acting was so soul-crushingly bad that I refuse
to believe that the actors genuinely believed
they had put on a good performance. I theorise
that there must have been some sort of
disagreement between the game producers and the
actor's agency, and the actors were grudgingly
forced to do the work, but resolved to alternate
between too much and too little enthusiasm AND
emphasise the WRONG words. Also, there
is enough hair gel in the intro movie to fill a
moderately-sized canyon.
But Eternal
Darkness is great, even if the title does sound
like it came from a survival horror random name
generator. What's great about it is that you can
play the game three times with a different
ancient demon god in the hotseat each time. Each
god has their own array of monsters. There are
four different delicious fruity flavours of
zombie, and for want of something to write about,
I'm going to try and determine which one is the
best.
Let's meet the
contestants!
BROWN
ZOMBIE
This is kind of
the pathetic zombie that all the other zombies
bully. It's a skinny burnt skeleton with spindly
arms and legs, the kind of zombie who, in life,
had their mum cut their hair for them. That said,
however, this is a brave little zombie who never
says die, despite his limitations. Go ahead, lop
his arm off. He'll feel around at the gushing
stump where it used to be, then shrug what
shoulder he has left and continue his assault.
Off with the other one! He'll keep coming. He
won't grow any arms back and he doesn't seem to
know how to bite, so he'll just shamble up and
bump into you a few times. It's cool, once you've
got a throng of them with their arms off it'll
look like they're giving you a little
Lovecraftian group hug. Of course, they'll drop
once the head's off, but they still wriggle about
on the floor like they're trying to hump it.
GREEN
ZOMBIE
The big selling
point of the green zombie is that, if you chop
off its arms, it retains phantom arms that can
still slap you about. It sounds intimidating, but
these jokers can't even withstand having their
heads lopped off before sinking to the floor.
Slackers. In the interests of game balancing,
though, they do come back to life if you don't
quickly chop up the corpse. Apparently it was
such fun having its head lopped off the first
time that it couldn't help getting up for
seconds.
BLUE
ZOMBIE
Okay. I know
what this is. This is the result of late night
brainstorming.
GARY:
Right then, we don't want the zombies in our game
to be carbon copies of all zombies that have ever
appeared in survival horror ever. We need a fresh
kind of zombie! Now, what do zombies do?
LANCE: I'll tell you right after
I inject adrenaline directly into my heart. OOF.
Okay. Zombies shamble around, moan, and generally
hate the living.
GARY: Okay, now what have
zombies NEVER done?
LANCE: They've never... fallen
in love?
GARY: Hmm... that might
interfere with the game's overall message.
Something else.
LANCE: They've never... run for
president?
GARY: Brilliant! But we'll save
that for the sequel. No, I've got it. We'll make
our zombies SING!
LANCE: Sing?
GARY: Sing! And when they're
finished singing, they'll explode!
LANCE: You're fucking on fire,
Gary!
RED
ZOMBIE
The fleshiest of
the zombies, judging by the sound of their thighs
slapping together when they shamble. These are
the big tough lads. To kill him, you usually have
to completely dismember him and whack his torso a
few times while he stands there wondering what
his next course of action should be. And of
course they regenerate all their lost limbs. If
you're smart about it, a single red zombie could
feed your entire household for years with cold
zombie arm sandwiches. Also, judging by their
colour and texture, they appear to be made from
strawberry blancmange. It's the first time a
zombie in a video game has ever made me hungry.
So, which one is
the best? I dunno. Probably the red one. And I
should probably stop writing updates first thing
in the morning.
- Yahtzee
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Last Week On
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1/6/05:
Laugh, You Bastards
I'm noticing a
curious trend in Australian adverts lately. Not
the fact that they're all excruciatingly lame,
that's old news. I'm talking about adverts that
close with the main characters bursting into
completely inappropriate laughter. It's kind of
like those episodes of Hanna Barbera cartoons
that close with an alleged joke and the main
characters engaging in awkward drawn-out laughter
until you wonder if something has been slipped
into their water supply. Then the voice actors go
home to beat their wives.
But these
adverts don't even have the excuse of having
something approximating a joke to set off the
actors' giggles. Let's take a look at the main
culprits.
CASE
STUDY 1
The
Product: Philadelphia cream cheese. I
may be in a minority on this one, but I always
thought that stuff tasted like ass.
The
Advert: Good-Looking Non-Threatening
Middle-Class Professional White Chick A and
Good-Looking Non-Threatening Middle-Class
Professional White Chick B are in their mutual
kitchen unsuccessfully trying to fix a busted
coffee table when Good-Looking Non-Threatening
Middle-Class Professional White Chick C comes in
and hands around Philadelphia cream cheese
snacks. All three of them then go through the
usual motions of biting into them in slow motion
with their eyes closed and making orgasm noises,
kind of like Chairman Kaga with bell peppers.
The
Ending: Here's a direct, completely
unedited transcript of the advert's closing
scene:
GLNTMCPWC C: So,
how did you break your coffee table?
(GLNTMCPWC A and
B stare at each other)
(all burst into
laughter)
The
Discussion: Wait, what? Was that
supposed to be a joke? Why are my sides not
splitting? Stop giggling like a trio of arch
twats and resolve this final plot point. Clearly
there was something about the manner in which
they broke their coffee table that provoked this
bizarre outburst. From the way they looked at
each other and erupted into chuckles, I can only
presume it was an event that was mutually
embarassing. The obvious answer, then, is lesbian
sex. This is not the first time I have had reason
to utter that sentence.
CASE
STUDY 2
The
Product: Some breakfast snack bar thing
The
Advert: Good-Looking Non-Threatening
Middle-Class Professional White Chick visits her
new age friend who offers her new age herbal tea
and something called 'alfalfa soy slice'.
Good-Looking Non-Threatening Middle-Class
Professional White Chick then makes her excuses
and repairs to her car, where she enjoys a nice
breakfast bar snack, biting into it in slow
motion with eyes closed etc.
The
Ending: New age friend materialises at
the car window with something resembling a turd
wrapped in cling-film and announces "Some
alfalfa soy slice! For later!" She then
notices that her friend is eating something else,
there is an awkward pause, and then both burst
into laughter.
The
Discussion: Okay, so apparently it's
funny that your best friend has insulted your
household and cooking skills. That said, though,
the new age cunt probably deserves it. She
actually ran up to her friend's car to give her
more of something she turned down in the first
place. I think I see how this works. The new age
cunt's only friend is the GLNTMCPWC, no doubt out
of pity and nothing else, and as soon as the
laughter is over, she will follow her home and
not leave until she is actively asked to. Then
she will go and hide in the bushes and watch the
bedroom windows all through the night. She'll
install security cameras all over the house.
She'll dress up like her friend and try to seduce
her husband. Until she finally succumbs to
lunatic jealous rage and they both kill each
other in a stab frenzy. Ha ha ha! Actually, that
is pretty funny.
CASE
STUDY 3
The
Product: Some shampoo crap
The
Advert: Completely generic shampoo
advert up until the end. Good-Looking
Non-Threatening Culturally Ambiguous College-Aged
White Chick walking around swishing her lovely
hair about, taking a shower with limbs arranged
to hide nipples and mimsy, husky male voice over
making love to the microphone throughout.
The
Ending: GLNTCACAWC admiring her hair in
the mirror when an identical GLNTCACAWC walks in.
Their dialogue goes as follows:
GLNTCACAWC B:
Have you been using my shampoo?
GLNTCACAWC A:
(in an 'obviously lying' tone of voice) No...
GLNTCACAWC B:
That's okay. I've been using your boyfriend.
(GLNTCACAWC A
gasps in a manner that I can only classify as
'delighted surprise', both collapse into
laughter)
The
Discussion: Ha ha ha! I have abused our
friendship! Ha ha ha! And your boyfriend has been
unfaithful! Ha ha ha! You're taking this
remarkably well! Ha ha ha! I have a strong
suspicion that whoever wrote this advert gets all
his knowledge of human nature from the stack of
porn movies in the pungent basement in which he
has exclusively spent the last twenty years of
his life. No doubt in the full version of the
advert the girls settled their differences by
making out, and when the boyfriend came home they
had a threesome so steamy that afterwards he'd
need to wear an oven mitt while putting his
bollocks back in his pants.
If you know of
any other examples of inappropriate laughter at
the ends of adverts, why not discuss it on the forum? Don't email them to me,
because I stopped caring about halfway through
writing this update. Ha ha ha ha ha ha! HA ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha (fade out)
- Yahtzee
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Last Week On
FullyRamblomatic...
25/5/05:
Information Superbypass
I turned 22
yesterday, if anyone's interested. Anyone at all.
The internet
seems to be routinely misrepresented by Hollywood
films. And that surprises me, because Hollywood
is otherwise well-known for their excellent fact
checking and continual portrayals of realism.
Also, I have a brain tumour so big that my brain
seems to have mistaken it for another brain and
is trying to hump it.
I expect
Hollywood to misrepresent things like how long it
takes to hotwire a car or make pipebombs, because
most people tend not to do this sort of thing as
part of their daily routine, but the internet is
something pretty much everyone walking the Earth
has used at some point. I can only presume that
Hollywood executives have access to some
different internet, where all pages, no matter
how obscure, appear on-screen instantaneously
with no apparent loading time, because apparently
every server on Earth is situated in the main
character's basement. And let's not forget that
every time you click on a link the computer makes
a little tinny bleeping sound, and that mail
programs come with embedded animation as
standard.
One thing I also
noticed is that, when logging onto the internet,
the home page always seems to be set to some
mythical screen on which some variation on the
words "Welcome to the INTERNET!" are
emblazoned in big letters. It then occurred to
me, dear reader, that if new users come to the
internet with this sort of expectation then they
can only be completely confused before being
raped by about five hundred cyber-muggers who
hide behind every corner of the information
superhighway. And so, because I believe in
creating a firm balance between doing good and
doing evil, I made a Hollywood internet home page
for everyone to use.
Click here to
check it out!
- Yahtzee
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Last Week On
FullyRamblomatic...
18/5/05:
Sarlacc? Mo' Like Barlaccs
The stupidest
decision I ever made in my life was to see how
long I could survive in a cave in the Antarctic.
The first day wasn't so bad, but after that I had
eaten all the M&Ms I had brought for
sustenance and I was left having to subsist on
ice and raw penguin. I was quite delirious by the
time a BBC nature documentary crew arrived to
take me back home, and I can no longer look at a
penguin without descending into tremors and
crying, even though the film crew pointed out
that I had not actually been eating penguins, but
lumps of ice carved painstakingly into the shape
of penguins.
Anyway, I've
consequently been a bit out of the loop as far as
popular culture goes, which is why I was
surprised to get home and discover that Star Wars
Episode 3 is on the verge of release. Now,
there's a certain expectation on everyone's part,
particularly everyone who hangs around the likes
of Chefelf, that this film is going to be yet
another of George Lucas' attempts to destroy his
own reputation. It's like the viewing public is a
great big goblet which he filled with fine
champagne, then when we'd all drunk it, he got up
and filled the same glass with piss. Worst of all
are the people who say "Oh, I know it's
going to be bad, BUT I HAVE TO SEE IT
ANYWAY." No. No, you don't. If we didn't go
and see it, perhaps George Lucas will die from
shame and someone else will make a better film in
his wake. They can even dedicate it to his memory
while the world cheers.
But it wasn't
really the Phantom Menace that dragged Star Wars
into the lame pit. Maybe it was the lid, and
Attack of the Clones were the nails that held the
lid in place, and maybe episode 3 will be the big
fat man they hire to sit on the lid forever, but
Star Wars entered the lame pit long before then.
Gentlemen, I
give you: the Sarlacc.
| If
you're one of the eighteen people
worldwide who have never seen Return of
the Jedi, the Sarlacc was the big monster
thing used as a convenient plot point in
the first act that Jabba the Hutt, the
amazing living dog poo, would feed his
victims to. All we saw of it was a big
gaping toothy mouth in the desert floor
surrounded by sand for miles in every
direction. According to the aforesaid
living dog poo, anything that tumbles
down the Sarlacc's throat gets painfully
digested over the next ten thousand
years. |
 |
Okay,
first of all, ten thousand years is a fucking
long time to digest something. I'm pretty certain
that AIR digests a human body faster than that.
By the time you started to notice any degree of
decomposition, you'd be about 100 years old with
Alzheimers and you'd put it down to the invisible
space goat who lives in your head. Of course,
Jabba played up the whole 'painful' aspect, but
then he's got an intimidating reputation to think
of, and saying "I'm going to banish you to
some immobile monster's tummy for the rest of
your life so you can seriously think about what
you did" just doesn't carry as much weight.
Besides, how would ol' Jabba know that it hurts
like a bitch? Has he ever been in there himself?
Has he ever met anyone who has? I submit: NO.
More likely some passing natural history
professor told him that it has a 10000-year
digestion cycle and Jabba, being a turd of the
stupid variety, took his own interpretation.
If it really was
10000 years of agony in the Sarlacc, the
Sarlacc's stomach would have to have mechanisms
that (a) retard the food's ageing and (b)
stimulate the nerve endings directly, and there
would also need to be some other reason why such
things are necessary to digestion, as it seems
odd that a creature would evolve these things
solely out of spite for its prey. So, assuming
that Jabba was a big fat gitface liar, a fate in
the stomach of the Sarlacc basically comes down
to sitting around in a big, warm, dark, wet place
for the rest of your life.
It wouldn't even
be boring. Jabba chucks people down there
routinely, including that life of the party Boba
Fett, so we've got a righteous shindig going down
inside Sarlacc's tum. You'll meet all sorts of
new people, meet a nice girl, have a few dances,
a bit of wine, a bit of laughter, fuck, marry,
have children, divorce, then spend the rest of
your lives sitting in opposite corners of the
stomach not speaking to each other. What would
you eat? Why, the Sarlacc's stomach walls, of
course! No shortage of meat there! Cut off slices
with your light sabre and have a little barbecue.
Either it'll grow back, which is good, or it
won't, so your food plan is simultaneously your
long-term escape plan.
Before Jabba
came along, and introduced the Sarlacc to the
controversial 'enemies of Jabba' fad diet, I
simply cannot understand how the Sarlacc could
have evolved. Let's go through the most basic
things a species needs to survive:
Nourishment
Before Mr. Turd
met the Sarlacc, the Sarlacc's diet would have
been restricted to the occasional stupid desert
wanderer. And I mean REALLY, dangerously,
not-allowed-out-without-government-supervision
stupidity. The kind of stupidity that doesn't win
a Darwin Award because the judges said
"Okay, not even WE believe that anyone can
be as stupid as that." This kind of person:
"Hey Tim,
look at this big hole in the desert with teeth
all around it that looks like a big angry
mouth."
"Let's jump
in!"
"Yes!"
"Wheeee!"
Actually, I
could believe that if the Sarlacc lives right
next to a middle school in the East Midlands, but
it DOESN'T. It lives in the deserts of Tatooine
where there's bugger all but sand. Even if the
place swarms with little creatures just below the
surface, it would be like you or I trying to get
a meal by sitting in the middle of Trafalgar
Square with our mouths open, waiting for unwary
pigeons to fly in. I believe I said something
similar about the Barnacle from Half-Life a while
back, but at least they had a dangly tongue that
could be mistaken for a Tarzan rope some tosser
might grab to impress his girlfriend. The Sarlacc
didn't even have that.
Of course,
remember that the Sarlacc digests over a period
of 10000 years, so it obviously exists in a state
of incredibly speeded-up time. And since it never
budges a fucking inch, it probably doesn't need
much energy. So maybe it could get by on the one
or two stupid wankers who wander alone out in to
the desert and don't look where they're going
long enough to avoid tumbling into a gigantic
floormounted gob chute.
But then Jabba
comes along, and since a guy like that has a lot
of enemies, he's probably feeding the Sarlacc
slightly more often than the 10000 years needed
to digest the last meal. Something tells me that
the Sarlacc would be gorged to death within a
fortnight. That's if the prey doesn't eat their
way out first.
Reproduction
Assuming that
the Sarlacc doesn't reproduce asexually, that
somewhere there's a Mrs. Sarlacc, there needs to
be a point where the two of them get together to
do the nasty. Since they live in speedy-time,
they wouldn't move perceptibly to beings on our
sort of timeframe. To get an impression of
Sarlacc sex, then, film yourself fucking your
significant other while you both gaze permanently
upwards with your mouths open, then replay it
later and freeze-frame at any point. That's what
Sarlacc sex would look like.
And this, of
course, assumes that the two Sarlaccs can finish
before succumbing to any of the above-discussed
hazards.
And with that, I
bid you good day.
- Yahtzee
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Last Week On
FullyRamblomatic...
15/5/05:
Sorry, sorry, sorry
Updates are
going to be a bit slow at the mo. Number of other
things taking priority. In the meantime, enjoy Chris & Trilby.
- Yahtzee
updates - features - essays - reviews - comics - games - novels - about - contact - forum - links
Last Week On
FullyRamblomatic...
8/5/05:
Still Searching
Chris & Trilby is updating again, in
case you didn't notice. Let's see how long I can
keep it up for this time!
Gentlemen, start
your engines. SEARCH engines, that is! More
stupid search strings used to get to this site,
because God knows the internet can never have
enough of these.
5 days
in a stranger
You won't
believe how many combinations of 5s, 7s, days,
strangers and skeptics pass through my search
string list, but I have to say that this is a new
one. If the person who wrote this is reading,
please get in touch so I can ask permission to
use this title for the porn movie version of the
game. I'll need to find actors with absolutely
staggering amounts of stamina, obviously.
Actually, let's stop thinking about that and
forget I ever brought it up.
bikini
fuck
Experimentally I
entered this into Google Image Search, and it
produced bugger all. Then I tried again with the
filters disabled, and my God did some floodgates
open then. I really think there should be a cap
on how many pictures of blowjobs can be allowed
on the internet. They just aren't very NICE TO
LOOK AT. It's like watching people chewing with
their mouth open, or something. Can't we all
agree that that fantastic nude picture of Marilyn
Monroe in a swimming pool with her tits and mimsy
strategically obscured is ten times sexier than
some amateur photo of a greasy college girl
gobbling knob?
Anyway, this
search string becomes funnier if you add a couple
of punctuation marks and assume it's being spoken
by a sea captain in 1946 learning at an awkward
moment where the nuclear tests are taking place.
And retaining
the nautical theme:
captain
birdseye
Okay, I can
remain silent no longer. People have been coming
here looking for Captain Birdseye ever since I
began checking my search string logs. At first I
didn't mention it because it wasn't that funny,
but it just keeps happening, every damn month. I
checked Google - there I am, number 4 for Captain
Birdseye, just below what I can only presume are
what official, sensible websites exist for the
hoary old tart.
As everyone
should know by now, people who search for odd
things on Google obviously have some kind of
sexual fetish. Whoever typed this is no doubt
wriggling with glee at the thought of feeling the
captain's salty bristles tickling their inner
thighs EVEN AS WE SPEAK. Of course, I've been out
of England for nigh on two years now so for all I
know Captain Birdseye is being played by Melinda
Messenger at present. I don't know, though. If I
must play host for people looking for porn, they
could at least be looking for something more
traditional.
sex
britney
Like that, for
instance. Much better.
reading
haters
Yeah, god damn
reading! I hate the way it has allowed the human
race to communicate ideas and language in a
visible, lasting format! Why can't all those
smartypants 'literate' people FUCK RIGHT OFF!
Unless they're
talking about Reading the town. That's a little
bit more understandable. I mean, look at it.
Grrr!
GRRRR!
- Yahtzee
updates - features - essays - reviews - comics - games - novels - about - contact - forum - links
Last Week On
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2/5/05:
Bitch Bikers Bide
So, the
Hitch-Hiker's Guide film, then. Not exactly a
film that will hound the creators to infamy and
ruin, but which nevertheless left my socks
stubbornly not blown off. A lot of in-jokes are
included to please the fans while, paradoxically,
a lot of classic lines get butchered to piss them
off. The greasy fingerprints of Hollywood's
diseased digits blight the thing from beginning
to end and keep it from flying to great heights.
I'm not going to go into detail, because I
encourage you to form your own opinion. Don't
tell it to me, though, because I couldn't give a
monkey's trump.
I would like to
discuss two problems Hollywood has which the film
illustrates.
1.
Remakes and sequels
I know I haven't
lived as long as some of you wrinkley pensioners,
but I am pretty certain that the mainstream film
industry has never had as big a problem with
remake and sequel glut as it has now. It's like
every last ounce of originality in that wretched
Californian suburb has been dripped away, with
the desperate execs wringing aching teats with
white-knuckled hands while the cash cows moos
with pain and distress. Just looking at the
current IMDB front page, three of the top five
box office films are remakes or sequels, and the
other two have such fucking generic-sounding
plotlines they might as well be.
It really isn't
that difficult to come up with a filmable story.
Check it out, I'm going to set myself a little
task now and write five film plots right off the
top of my head.
PLOT ONE: A
young man finds himself magically transported to
an alternative universe where cows eat human
flesh and the last remaining outposts of humanity
cower behind their city walls, besieged by
cud-chewing horror.
PLOT TWO: An
alien from space falls to Earth and,
demonstrating an ability to bring women to
multiple orgasm without the need for intercourse
or even physical contact, undermines all the
world's men. It later transpires he is the
spearhead for an invasion fleet scheduled for a
few generations down the line, attempting to stop
human reproduction.
PLOT THREE: A
film depicting an average day in the life of a
man who has angry dogs instead of hands.
PLOT FOUR: A
go-getting young adventurer washes up on a desert
island where a group of evil pirates have
captured a group of accountants and forced them
to work out a comprehensive investment plan for
the next financial year.
PLOT FIVE: A
lone hero with a crippling personal problem must
overcome adversity to achieve their goal, while
being hounded by a larger or more powerful
antagonist. On the way he is joined by a
beautiful woman and a comic relief sidekick, and
eventually overcomes his crippling personal
problem at a convenient moment.
My second
problem with Hollywood is this:
2. Token
love interest subplots
At the risk of
blowing my own trumpet, just for once I'd like to
see, in a major film, something like the end of
Articulate Jim, where the hero nuts his primary
love interest Glaswegian-style and runs away.
I really think
it's about time there was a renaissance in the
entertainment industry, where everyone can sit
down together and decide that maybe a film can
still be valid without a love interest. I know,
back in the day, the practise of having a love
interest subplot in EVERY FUCKING FILM IN EVERY
GENRE EVER was probably just implemented for
broader market appeal, but these days it feels
more like they're doing it out of tradition more
than anything else. What on earth are they
thinking? "Here's a film about an oily
muscular man gunning down five million arabs with
a gun mounted to the end of his cock. Let's throw
in a female character for him to put his mouth on
at the end." And then, in order to justify
this stupid idea, the speaker adds "THIS
WILL MAKE WOMEN WANT TO SEE THE FILM." And
all his film executive friends nod their heads
and agree, instead of tactfully having security
show him out.
To illustrate my
point, let's go on a magical journey through the
power of our imaginations. Let's pretend that
we're on a female-dominated parallel Earth. For
centuries men have been downtrodden, but in
recent years the masculinist movement has brought
something approximating to equality. In the
alternative Hollywood, the big fat cigar-chomping
women sitting around the meeting table are
allowing a young writer to pitch her idea for a
summer blockbuster.
"Here's the
idea," says she. "It's a two hour film
about a joyless professional woman discovering
the importance of spending time with her
stay-at-home husband and children, with lots of
romance, kissing, and serious discussion about
menstruation."
"Sounds
good to me," says one of the execs.
"But stick a gunfight in somewhere, SO THAT
MEN WILL WANT TO SEE IT."
It's a stupid
idea, isn't it? It's not only stupid, it's
extremely patronising to think that women will
flock to theatres to sit through two hours of
violence just to see hunky Brad Pitt stick his
tongue in some broad for two seconds at the end.
Women are smarter than that; they have to be, in
order to work their ladyshave products properly.
If you ask me, we should say bollocks to the
delusion of broader market appeal and keep our
target audiences narrow and realistic. Political
incorrectness is a small price to pay for two
hours of violence or nerd humour unmolested by
snogging.
- Yahtzee
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