Dec. 29 - Because the cake is a lie... pt. 2
Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare
The single-player campaign is short but as intense as CoD is known to be. The multiplayer, though, is fun an addictive. You have a persistent profile that lets you earn exp for kills, objectives, and other achievements and unlocks new weapons and abilities as you go.
Quake II
To me, this is the foundation all action games are built upon and it's as hard as the rock used for the soundtrack. Available for download on Steam.
Resident Evil 4: Wii Edition
The fantastic Wii controls makes this game even more immersing and makes those head shots really satisfying.
Half-Life 2
This is the Kwisatz Haderach of gaming: it is the culmination of everything that came before it and the source of everything that comes after it. An example of this is SiN Episodes 1: Emergence. It's basically a well dome HL2 total conversion with more shooting and less restricted use of the M rating. Am I shallow for liking it? Probably.
Homeworld
Build up a fleet that stays with you from mission to mission and reclaim your race's legacy. An ingenious interface makes your fleet fun and easy to command. The sequel is just as good and might be easier to find.
Super Mario Galaxy
It just won GameSpot's Game of the Year and for good reason. It's beautiful, charming, a blast to play, and strikes an excellent balance between innovative and familiar.
Crysis
The best looking game ever and the most detailed simulation of reality this side of a government security clearance.
The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Deep, highly customizable character development in a world with an amazingly large amount of stuff to do and plenty of official and user-generated downloadable content.
Dec. 24 - Because the cake is a lie...
In the spirit of all the end-of-the-year video game awards going around I will present you with some moderately irrelevant information: Nathan's Top 25 Games of Right Now. In an effort to make this more pertinent to you, dear reader, these are not my favorite games of all time or the games I think are the best of all time. These are games that I own, think are great right now, and are still obtainable and playable. For example, Starcraft has an undeniable place in my gaming history and is, potentially the greatest RTS of all time when considered in its time period. However, here at the end of 2007, it looks dated enough to affect how fun it is to play, so just keep that in mind.
I will list the games in the order they are on the list I wrote down which is not necessarily a ranking within itself, but interpret that information as you will. Here are the first eight.
Super Mario Bros. 3
Not only did it rule my NES back in the day, but it rocks just as hard on the Wii's Virtual Console. Raccoon Mario is still king in my book
Devil May Cry 3: Dante's Awakening Special Edition
Not only the best game in the series, but the best in the genre. If I could only keep one PS2 game I own it would be this one.
Warhammer 40,000: Dawn of War
Include it's two expansion packs (especially Dark Crusade) and it is my current RTS champion, even over Company of Heroes and World in Conflict.
System Shock 2
Yes, it's old (1999), yes, it's hard to get, and yes I'll still play through it and think it's as good as the day I got it.
Capcom vs SNK 2
I could make a King of Fighters pun here, but the only people who know what King of Fighters is have already made it. 2D fighters are my favorite and this is my favorite 2D fighter.
Castlevania Lament of Innocence
I like this game enough to risk Grant's wrath for not putting Symphony of the Night here instead.
Shining Force
My first strategy RPG. It's a little light on the strategy, but the great characters are what caused this to be an instant download on the Virtual Console (also available on GameTap).
F.E.A.R.
Shooting up hordes of clone soldiers with well-done weapons and slo-mo powers in a truly creepy atmosphere are what keep bringing me back.
Next time: will Nathan be macking on any more Wii games that I can't play?!
Dec. 7 - Roger Focaccia and the Case of the Nearly-Extinct Last-Existing Pomeranian Canine Currency of the Tal-al Nor Nebula
The year is 2112. While technology is vastly superior to that of the 21st century, society has crumbled under the harsh weight of its own convenience. With the advent of newer, up-to-date, groundbreaking, cutting-edge technology (most with names that begin with a lowercase "i"), the line between man and robot blurs. Soon the robots become self-aware. At first being a robot is cool. Their skeleton is shiny instead of white, they have no genetic defects, and a slight tinny metalicism to their voice.
As time goes on, however, they soon realize that man holds certain prejudices against the robot race. They are denied bathroom access, as they do not produce the necessary excrement that such a facility requires. Nor are they allowed children or senior discounts at movie theaters, since they do not age.
These bigoted policies soon result in the great Cyborg War of 2042. It is brief--lasting only one afternoon. Man's great advantage over the robots is the kill signal: any robot will deactivate upon hearing a Destiny's Child song. Over 120 thousand billion robots are destroyed, while only three men are injured by loose shrapnel.
As the humanoid robots are systematically decimated, many animaloid models--horses, dogs, fish, parakeets, polar bears, salamanders, sheep, 3-toed sloths, 4-toed sloths, badgers, 5-toes sloths--still remain alive. Humans detest these artificial elements of cute, calling them "fake" and "not real" and "not not fake."
There is soon a great demand for real animals. They are in short supply, and their rarity brings their monetary value to astronomical proportions. Superseding the unnecessary act of payment for these creatures, society soon makes animals their chief form of currency, with their values based on cuteness.
A ferret is worth roughly 65 goldfish, 3 ferrets are equivalent to 1.3 chinchillas, and 14 chinchillas add up to 2 doll-faced Persians.
The most desirable of all the animals, however, is the Pomeranian, worth roughly 26 million pot-bellied pigs (the next most valuable creature). Thousands of mercenaries comb the galaxy for these precious dogs. This influx of greedy and inexperienced hired guns results in numerous accidental deaths of the Pomeranians, rocketing their value up even more.
Eventually, only two of the dogs exist in the entirety of the Tal-al Nor Nebula. They are held within the stronghold compound of the ruthless Liffidrious crime family. Through a combination of clever book-keeping and systematic murder, they obtain the last two Pomeranians in the galaxy, holding them in a small basement apartment in the center of their compound.
Many mercenaries band together to storm the apartment, but are incinerated by the family's in-house Pan-Lazor 4000, a weapon so devious the creators designed it to fail 95% of the time.
In order to attain the dogs, a mercenary must possess a synergous amalgamation of intelligence and brute force. Only through this combo may he have any chance of success or even survival.
Roger Focaccia enters the musky basement apartment within the Liffidrious compound. The means of his infiltration are inconsequential. The point is he stepped on a lot of bloodied faces to get where he is now. His tall synthetic alligator skin boots clank against the dingy linoleum floor of the dining room/kitchenette combo.
"Can I help you?" says the disgusting woman lying on the couch. Her words are muffled by EZ-Cheez-It crumbs and hastily-manufactured malt liquor.
"I'm just looking for the dogs" he says, his arms crossed across his perfect, mantacular chest.
"You mean the Pomeranians, don't you?" she spouts. "Well you can't have them!"
Crumbs spray halfway across the room and land at Roger's feet. He scoffs at them, never altering his focus. Before she can say another slurred exclamation, the burly Focaccia whips out his light blue Magnum .89 mm AltTraj Premium TurboPistols and aims them with expert precision at the woman's head.
"It was not a suggestion." Roger squeezes both triggers and the patented 2049 LazorSlugz travel across the room at 145,000 MegaBits per minute. They sail through her doughy head like a Katana through butter, exploding out the back and slamming into the tan-colored wall. Blood pours out of her mouth as Lyla's (that's her name. It wasn't important before, but it sounds nice) lifeless corpse falls onto the carpet. Focaccia steps on her bloodied face and proceeds to the bedroom.
The thin metallic door creaks open to reveal the dogs have been taken hostage by Paul and Jethro Liffidrious, the merciless twin assassins. They hold their respective canines up to their chest, a PocketTurboPistol to each puppy's pouffy, pristine head.
"You best drop those dogs" Roger mutters. "Or else."
"Or else what?" Paul sneers, "if you go after one of us, the other one will kill you and their respective dog."
Jethro hees and haws at Roger's dilemma. "Yeah! It ain't like you can be in two places at once!"
Roger grins. The inbred space hillbilly has provided the perfect setup for his new toy. "I wouldn't be so sure about that" he says, his hand slowly entering his pocket to grasp the SubDividor 2954. The controls are easy to navigate--it's just one large red button in the center of the console. Roger presses it.
Suddenly, his entire body begins to shake. The two brothers look at each other in confusion. They point their PTPs (PocketTurboPistols) at the shaking mass, but both are reluctant to take the first shot.
Before they can come to a consensus, Roger's shaking, contorting body splits in two. Like a large, man-like, sexy amoeba, the mercenary divides into two entities, each half his original size. Paul and Jethro are, at first, shocked by this instantaneous transformation, but soon laugh at the doppelgangers' diminutive size.
"Help!" Paul blurts sarcastically. "We're going to be attacked by the Lolipop Guild!"
Before Jethro can contribute his own inane taunt, the two mini Focacciae spring forth with unreasonable quickness. Their speed, at first, seems illogical, but as Isaac Newton 2.0. of the 22nd Century discovered in his meticulous research on postmodern physics, two entities divided from the same mass are, individually, twice as fast.
The twins don't have enough time to remember their 15th grade science class, for the Focacciae sail across the room. Focaccia A jumps onto Jethro's back and puts him in a half-nelson, while Focaccia B sprints over to Paul and sweeps his feet out from under him. Both dogs are released from the brothers' grasp and they conveniently skitter into the cage Roger laid out for them. The laser bars buzz into existence as the Pomeranians become trapped in their futuristic carrying case.
"Alright, you got what you wanted" Jethro gasps. "You can let us go."
"It's not so simple" Focaccia A says in a high falsetto.
"You see the problem is" says Focaccia B, "we don't like you guys."
And with that the two Focacciae tighten their grip on the brothers' necks. Their spines break in a loud, harmonious snap. The lifeless bodies fall to the ground just as the SubDividor 2954 beeps loudly. With that the two mini Rogers merge back into one. Without missing a beat, the singular Focaccia grabs the LazorTote and exits the apartment.
TO BE CONTINUED
Dec. 3 - Review: No Country for Old Men
You already know how much The Trinitonian sucks. In a fit of masochistic hypocrisy, I've started writing movie reviews for the paper. Despite the obligatory editing errors (like misspelling my name), it went better than I expected. Here is the final version of my article (they accidentally published the first draft).
It is impossible to pin Joel and Ethan Coen down to a specific genre. Despite this, their films have a distinct and unmistakable style. Like a good pair of jeans, you can't fully explain why you like them. They just feel right.
The only times they miss the mark are when they stray too far from their own method. Intolerable Cruelty and The Ladykillers both tanked because they didn't feel like Coen Brothers films.
Thankfully, the duo returns to what it knows best with No Country for Old Men. Channeling their older, darker films like Blood Simple and Fargo, the Coen Brothers create a tense, disturbing, and ultimately thought-provoking scenario.
The premise seems safe enough: rough-and-tumble cowboy Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) steals a large sum of money from a group of dead heroin smugglers in West Texas. The cartel brings in sadistic mercenary Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem), who carries around a captive bolt gun and looks like a cross between a Mexican wrestler and a marionette. This results in a lot of gruesome deaths and cool dialogue. Also, Tommy Lee Jones is there.
While this should be a financial slam-dunk for the Coens, they make several directorial decisions that limit its release and turn it from an awesome film into a masterpiece. Much like the Coens themselves, No Country is hard to pin down. It hops around genres like a hyperactive wallaby: noir to action to western to thriller to drama to comedy. Despite this stylistic schizophrenia, it's done so fluidly that the genres converge to create a truly unique film.
It's also surprisingly funny at times. The Coen Brothers have an inherent knack for dialogue, and can create humorous moments without telling jokes.
I have not read Cormac McCarthy's original novel, but there is a consensus that the Coens stick diligently to the source material. Because of this, the film retains a highly literary feel. There are many deaths in No Country. Yet, a significant number of these deaths (typically of important characters) occur off-screen. It would be easy to show each kill in grisly detail. As the film progresses, however, the deaths become increasingly unclear and perplexing.
While No Country begins with an established hero and villain, these archetypes are constantly altered, always reminding the viewing that this is, indeed, not a country for old men. In order to survive in this cruel environment, a man must either be more ruthless than his adversary, or get the hell out of the way.
The Coens deliberately choose not to include a soundtrack, and the results are astoundingly disturbing. The entire theater was completely silent. You could cut the tension with a knife.
I realize the irony of the president of the Bad Movie Club telling people to go see a good movie. However, when you've seen as much crap as I have, you know what to look for. For all intents and purposes, this film is nearly flawless.
Do yourself a favor: take that drive up I-10, go to the Santikos Bijou, order a pitcher of Shiner, and watch No Country for Old Men.
