Hiya,
Enter the world of shooting. Projectile-based gaming. A very entertaining genre. Yes. I must admit, I had always liked shooting things.
So I was playing Ms. Pac-Man one day and I turned and saw a gentleman playing Time Crisis 2 and I thought "An interesting pedal/shoot concept, but it costs a dollar to play". As the naive superfly I was, I decided to give it a go. It was a wonderful experience, though quite unfortunate. As a top agent for the VSSE, your family does not receive life insurance if you are killed in action by a barrel. Discouraged, I set off to find another shooting game.
Suddenly, I heard screams of pain and anguish -- I spun around (no less than 1080 degrees, coincidentally the temperature of the heat I tend to pack), and a sight to behold was before me -- a boy no older than 5 was standing naked from the waist down, with a frantic mother screaming at her 13 year old son who had a fascination with 'water pumping'. It did not take me long to notice the game behind the scene; House of the Dead 2. Having received an allowance bonus for unclogging my neighbor's toilet with my face, I figured it was worth a shot. So I played. It was difficult to focus on the game while simultaneously admiring the literary genius of the dialogue that the developers clearly spent copious amounts of time on. I began to cry when I had put a human victim out of his misery, and had to explain to his wife that "There was nothing we could do". From the sexual innuendo of the frightened "Don't come!" girl, to the societal statement made through the fact that "G" was actually a white male, the game was too much for my feeble mind to process. Thus, my search continued.
Before my next trip to the arcade, I had visited a friend of mine, whom I only use for his videogames. I saw him playing a game once, that you might be familiar with. I believe it was called "Duck Hunt", from what the cartridge said, but from his active vocals and body motions, it seemed a more fitting name would be "Dance Dance Sweat and Clicking-BAMF!" The gameplay seemed very intuitive. Whereas in most games you actually aim from afar and try to shoot your target (similar to range shooting), this game offered the premise that your 'gun' was actually a 'lightning trigger', as was indicated by the screen flashing with every click. It would seem that the objective was to strike ducks with lightning bolts. The motivation of humiliation was astounding, as your dog companion would soundly jest with 8-bit blurbs at your sexual inadequacy. I had then made the conclusion that sexual adequacy is then inversely proportional to the distance your 'lightning gun' is from the television screen. This game hurt my feelings.
"Perhaps I should consider different methods of shooting," I thought. And I did. I began to shoot splotches of urine on my bed as a weekend hobby, but quickly decided the entertainment simply did not outweigh the olfactory aromas. I tried my hand at shooting pool, but soon lost interest and developed a hobby of fondling balls. I lost $205 trying to "shoot the moon" in the card game Hearts, my academic standing at Virginia Tech for shooting the bull with professors, a fatal addiction for shooting up, and a few years in prison for shooting Old Yeller.
Upon my heterosexual release with my virginity still intact don't tell anyone or I'll slit your throat, I made my way to the local video game store. I casually entered, and there it was, a sight beyond the gods. You see, having spent time in the cell, I had achieved the highest level of boredom possible, in between anal recuperations. My mouth only knew one taste, and it wasn't that of the splendid piece of half-chewed gum that lay before me. I began to pick. It wouldn't come off. I ran to the nearest shelf and grabbed the nearest game, hoping the CD would serve as an appropriate scraper. Apparently, they do not keep the CDs in the boxes on the shelves. My attempt to retrieve a CD from behind the counter was soon halted by a severely
athletic and
divine-smelling young
prodigy with an affinity for
looking handsome, eating his own
modesty, and
breeding large amounts of
poo poo head. [/madlib]
My instincts drew me to my piercing wit, but I knew that I must restrain from causing serious psychological harm so soon after being released and reformed.
The 'Gamecube' I had liberated did not turn out to be a miniature oven, as I had predicted. According to television, it is in fact a 'Game Console'. However, I do not place much faith in this claim, as this is the same television that suggested the young man at the store had died of brain damage, when, in fact, I am positive that he had died from a mangling of his jugular vein.
Thus, I am entering this contest to verify my proposal that this 'Gamecube' is not a toy to be tinkered with, but a tool for personal air conditioning. The built-in fan, while miniature, has
no relation with playing games. It astounds me that people would actually attempt to make games for the strangest products these days -- for calculators, cellular phones, and now this, the epitome of portable coolant/window demolition/concussion box, or the 'Gamecube', as they call it. To prove my theory (and to disprove the power-hungry game developers), I intend to conduct scientific experiments comparing the uses of the 'Gamecube' as an entertainment console, versus its uses against my head (for which I will require the sake set). Should I be chosen as the recipient of your offerings, you can expect a full report on my findings. Thank you for your time.
~Kap
(Seriously though, I have a Gamecube with no games, but Ikaruga rocked the Dreamcast.
Hope you (all) enjoyed this, and g'luck with the contest!)
