You People Are Not Well
Far too much time has passed since the last update, but I have good
excuses. Not only am I revising the site’s layout, but I also had to
move to a new job in New York. The result? I just don’t have much time
for my little website.
In lieu of actual new content, here’s a look at the top searches that lead to kidfenris.com.
Lord, how I hate the Internet.
Change of plans here. I'm going to revise this site so that it’s all about female bodybuilders, because readers would apparently rather see that sort of thing than anything about bad video game artwork or goofy cartoons from Japan.
In lieu of actual new content, here’s a look at the top searches that lead to kidfenris.com.
Lord, how I hate the Internet.
Change of plans here. I'm going to revise this site so that it’s all about female bodybuilders, because readers would apparently rather see that sort of thing than anything about bad video game artwork or goofy cartoons from Japan.
Game Magazine Memories
Those who read Electronic Gaming Monthly in the mid-90s may remember the “What Ifs” column with which the mag sometimes killed space. This section invited readers to send in witticisms on par with “What if the Little Mermaid was Ecco's Mother?” or “What if Atari decided there weren't enough buttons on the Jaguar's controller?” It was not, in retrospect, the magazine's finest attraction, but the terse banality of “What Ifs” appealed to kids and those older readers who couldn't write full-length letters.
To this day I'm not sure what possessed me to jot down some “What Ifs” of my own in late 1994, though I could blame it on being bored during Christmas vacation and unconvinced that I had outgrown video games. Whatever the cause, I sent off a dozen bon mots to EGM and promptly forgot about them, as I had Final Fantasy VI (then III) to worry about.
About four months later, someone passed the March 1995 issue of EGM2 around fifth-period German class. Once it was in my hands, I flipped to the letters section, for I suddenly remembered those stupid “What Ifs" and was gripped by a hysterical urge to see if I, a humble lad from a small Ohio town, would find my name in print.
And I did.
Yes, that's me at the bottom of the list, delivering some comedic misfires about Final Fantasy III, Mortal Kombat II, and a lesser-known, lesser-quality arcade fighter called BloodStorm, which gave rise to the Tempest gag. You see, one of her finishing moves was called the “Exorcism.” It was funny then, dammit.
This wouldn't seem a grand event today, but back in 1995, I was thrilled. With these four “What Ifs” printed, I was now a published writer. Forget that worthless short story in the school's literary magazine. This was E-MOTHERFUCKING-G-M. Yes, I was a stupid kid, and I make no excuses for it. In fact, I still feel some small surge of accomplishment when I look at the column and note that, for example, I received more space than any other contributor. Take THAT, Iain Hend! Where's your precious "Internet" now?
Of course, the issue has points of interest aside from unfounded nostalgia. For one, it's an interesting look at all of the game systems that were desperately vying for attention in 1995. With the 3DO, the Jaguar, the CD-i, the SNES, the Genesis, the 32X, the Sega CD, the slowly building culture of PC games, and the recently announced PlayStation and Saturn, it was an absolute clusterfuck. Though the two newest systems get the nicest previews in this issue (remember when Cyber Sled impressed us?), the 16-bit consoles seem to have the better libraries, thanks to titles like Ristar, Metal Warriors, Ogre Battle, Front Mission, and Comix Zone. But hey, CD-i owners could look forward to Thunder in Paradise, a multi-genre piece based on Hulk Hogan's short-lived syndicated TV series. The CD-i is seldom praised.
The year was also dominated by fighting games, and the issue dedicates an accordingly generous share of pages to Virtua Fighter 2, Killer Instinct, Capcom's X-Men fighter, and, of course, Mortal Kombat 3. The magazine's standout article is an interview with Anthony Marquez, a martial artist who provided motion-capture work for Kung Lao in both Mortal Kombat 2 and 3. It's a standard puff piece, though even Marquez weighs in on the issue of gaming violence when he submits that “parents have to take responsibility and not blame bad parenting on movies or video games.”
Yet the most intriguing thing in this issue might be a preview for a home version of BloodStorm, the mediocre, gore-filled fighter that inspired a “What If” from me. Though the game had a short run in arcades during 1994, ports for the PlayStation and Saturn were apparently announced the following year. EGM2's preview is sloppily vague, and the grainy screenshots suggest either an ugly translation or poor image quality, but it's the only evidence I've seen that BloodStorm was headed for a console. It was canceled, of course, after a Genesis version of Time Killers, BloodStorm's direct ancestor, turned out to be even worse than its arcade original.
That's about it for the April 1995 issue of EGM2. The layouts are only passable and the writing sticks to the same bland, grade-school tone that the EGM offices employed during the mid-1990s, but it has value as a study of an incredibly competitive gaming culture that may never be duplicated. And perhaps it shouldn't be.
Final Fantasy Lite
After sifting through E3 news, I find myself even more interested in Final Fantasy XII. Director Yasumi Matsuno is inserting ideas from his own Vagrant Story into the Final Fantasy
battle template, and the result appears to be a welcome change from
the standard menu-driven arrangement that fewer and fewer RPGs are using
nowadays. Matsuno’s meddling has resulted in some Internet Debate, but a
Final Fantasy just isn’t a Final Fantasy without fanboy squabbles.
I can’t really take part in any of those squabbles, as I haven’t played the game. So I’ll just sit back and obsess over Final Fantasy XII characters like Pannero. A cheerful 16-year-old girl, she’s apparently into dancing and flirting with Vaan, one of the protagonists. And, more importantly, she has beer hair.
“Pannero” appears to be the favored translation of her name, though some sources convert it to “Panelo.” I think her name should be “Penelo,” as it would then serve as a shortened reference to the Odyssey. That Matsuno loves him some classical allusions.
I can’t really take part in any of those squabbles, as I haven’t played the game. So I’ll just sit back and obsess over Final Fantasy XII characters like Pannero. A cheerful 16-year-old girl, she’s apparently into dancing and flirting with Vaan, one of the protagonists. And, more importantly, she has beer hair.
“Pannero” appears to be the favored translation of her name, though some sources convert it to “Panelo.” I think her name should be “Penelo,” as it would then serve as a shortened reference to the Odyssey. That Matsuno loves him some classical allusions.
Undercover Secrets
like to think that I know something about video games. It’s one of my hobbies, after all. Yet there are moments which remind me that, like some deep-sea cartographer, I’m immersed in a realm too vast and varied for a lone observer to fully comprehend.
The most recent such moment involved Undercover Cops, an Irem beat-‘em-up from 1992. It seems, at a glance, fairly basic: a city full of street thugs and general corruption is set to rights by a scruffy, bearded martial artist, a doughty British lass named Rosa, and a blond American football player who predates Brian Battler of The King of Fighters by a few years.
While it lacks even the semiotic endurance of Bad Dudes in its expository scenes, Undercover Cops has aesthetics and level design more clever than those of the typical brawler. The characters can heft everything from motorcycles to fish, even using stone pillars and girders three times their height to whack enemies across the screen. And in addition to the usual batch of boring street punks, those enemies include robotic mole-people, a first-stage leader with a trash compactor for a weapon, and a fat dominatrix boss who cries profusely when punched.
The game even retains a certain visual appeal, as everything’s presented in the same gritty, highly detailed style as Gallop, In the Hunt, and other Irem arcade titles (which, by extended rumor, would include some of the Metal Slug series).
That's all there is to Undercover Cops. In 1994, Irem and a little-seen developer called Varie ported it to the Super Famicom and planned on an American release, but the latter was canceled. Half.com preserved the box art for the SNES version, if you need a laugh.
But my story doesn’t end there. A few months ago, I was flipping through a Japanese Samurai Spirits 4Koma manga, one of those game-based comic strip collections which, unlike independent doujinshi, are published with the full permission of the company in question. The back pages of the book held some ads for similar comic bundles, and among them was a promo for this.
It’s a manga anthology based on Undercover Cops, and judging by the copyright notice to the left of Rosa's head, it’s a legitimate publication. Now, I realize that a lot of games (Psychic Force, Black Matrix, Magical Drop) are far more popular in Japan than they could ever be in America, but I found it hard to believe that, even in 1993, Undercover Cops would have had enough fans to merit its own Irem-approved comic. A slim doujinshi volume I could have understood, but this? It was like finding a novel based on Vendetta, Two Crude Dudes, or some other early-90s beat-‘em-up that no one talks about anymore. Odd as this discovery seemed, I brushed it aside.
Last week, however, I became convinced that even if I’ve finished with Undercover Cops, it’s not finished with me. While sifting through Japanese sites in search of early PlayStation release schedules, I stumbled upon a gallery of fan art depicting video game women in absurdly muscular form. Among the bulked-out caricatures of Final Fantasy and Street Fighter female characters, I found a subject that I didn’t recognize at first, though she seemed vaguely familiar.
And then comprehension struck: this is Rosa from Undercover Cops, as rendered by someone with a severe muscle-lady fixation. Out of all sorts of well-known female characters from all sorts of well-known video games, the artist chose the star of Undercover Cops to be part of this bizarre fetish parade. If my exploration of gaming culture is like charting the ocean floor, this amounts to a brief glimpse of a giant squid. Or perhaps a crashed UFO.
Yes, this boggles my mind as only minor, inexplicable trivia can. Undercover Cops is a fine game, but I’d written it off long ago as an obscure piece of Irem’s history. Yet after encountering two seemingly unrelated examples of the game’s fan following, I wonder if there’s more to it. Perhaps, in Tokyo’s Akihabara district, there’s a unremarkable arcade staffed by an equally unremarkable clerk who, upon hearing the proper turn of phrase, will unlock a rear door and reveal the stairs to a basement stocked with every kind of arcade unit: sit-down models, massive three-player arrays with huge screens, and even a battered upright cabinet from America.
All of them are running Undercover Cops.
While it lacks even the semiotic endurance of Bad Dudes in its expository scenes, Undercover Cops has aesthetics and level design more clever than those of the typical brawler. The characters can heft everything from motorcycles to fish, even using stone pillars and girders three times their height to whack enemies across the screen. And in addition to the usual batch of boring street punks, those enemies include robotic mole-people, a first-stage leader with a trash compactor for a weapon, and a fat dominatrix boss who cries profusely when punched.
The game even retains a certain visual appeal, as everything’s presented in the same gritty, highly detailed style as Gallop, In the Hunt, and other Irem arcade titles (which, by extended rumor, would include some of the Metal Slug series).
That's all there is to Undercover Cops. In 1994, Irem and a little-seen developer called Varie ported it to the Super Famicom and planned on an American release, but the latter was canceled. Half.com preserved the box art for the SNES version, if you need a laugh.
But my story doesn’t end there. A few months ago, I was flipping through a Japanese Samurai Spirits 4Koma manga, one of those game-based comic strip collections which, unlike independent doujinshi, are published with the full permission of the company in question. The back pages of the book held some ads for similar comic bundles, and among them was a promo for this.
It’s a manga anthology based on Undercover Cops, and judging by the copyright notice to the left of Rosa's head, it’s a legitimate publication. Now, I realize that a lot of games (Psychic Force, Black Matrix, Magical Drop) are far more popular in Japan than they could ever be in America, but I found it hard to believe that, even in 1993, Undercover Cops would have had enough fans to merit its own Irem-approved comic. A slim doujinshi volume I could have understood, but this? It was like finding a novel based on Vendetta, Two Crude Dudes, or some other early-90s beat-‘em-up that no one talks about anymore. Odd as this discovery seemed, I brushed it aside.
Last week, however, I became convinced that even if I’ve finished with Undercover Cops, it’s not finished with me. While sifting through Japanese sites in search of early PlayStation release schedules, I stumbled upon a gallery of fan art depicting video game women in absurdly muscular form. Among the bulked-out caricatures of Final Fantasy and Street Fighter female characters, I found a subject that I didn’t recognize at first, though she seemed vaguely familiar.
And then comprehension struck: this is Rosa from Undercover Cops, as rendered by someone with a severe muscle-lady fixation. Out of all sorts of well-known female characters from all sorts of well-known video games, the artist chose the star of Undercover Cops to be part of this bizarre fetish parade. If my exploration of gaming culture is like charting the ocean floor, this amounts to a brief glimpse of a giant squid. Or perhaps a crashed UFO.
Yes, this boggles my mind as only minor, inexplicable trivia can. Undercover Cops is a fine game, but I’d written it off long ago as an obscure piece of Irem’s history. Yet after encountering two seemingly unrelated examples of the game’s fan following, I wonder if there’s more to it. Perhaps, in Tokyo’s Akihabara district, there’s a unremarkable arcade staffed by an equally unremarkable clerk who, upon hearing the proper turn of phrase, will unlock a rear door and reveal the stairs to a basement stocked with every kind of arcade unit: sit-down models, massive three-player arrays with huge screens, and even a battered upright cabinet from America.
All of them are running Undercover Cops.
Picking Winners
I’ve grown convinced that Ashe, the displaced princess of Final Fantasy XII, will be one of my favorite game characters ever. Why? Unlike the tiresome, idealized archetypes that often pass for women in video games, Ashe isn't afraid to engage in potentially awkward behavior such as picking her nose.
Yes, there’s the possibility that Square was trying to depict her in the middle of a cute nose-tapping mannerism, similar to what Rinoa often did in Final Fantasy VIII. But I don’t buy that. If Ashe was supposed to appear the adorable flirt, she’d be smiling. She isn’t. Instead, she wears a look of absentminded disdain, as though she realizes that she’s about to inadvertently root around in one or both nostrils, and she just doesn’t care. She’s royalty, after all, and if she wants to pick her nose, she’ll pick her nose, you plebeian twits.
Yes, there’s the possibility that Square was trying to depict her in the middle of a cute nose-tapping mannerism, similar to what Rinoa often did in Final Fantasy VIII. But I don’t buy that. If Ashe was supposed to appear the adorable flirt, she’d be smiling. She isn’t. Instead, she wears a look of absentminded disdain, as though she realizes that she’s about to inadvertently root around in one or both nostrils, and she just doesn’t care. She’s royalty, after all, and if she wants to pick her nose, she’ll pick her nose, you plebeian twits.
The Rising Sunman
Most of my attention this week was claimed by Sunman, an unreleased NES title discovered and distributed, in ROM form, by the folks at The Lost Levels.
It’s the sort of thing that NES historians love: a complete game that
has never before seen the light of day or even a mention on a release
schedule. Not quite the legendary Bio Force Ape, but a great find nonetheless.
Apparently Sunsoft’s attempt to turn a lost Superman license into a viable title, Sunman is a rough action game impeded by grueling difficulty and limited attacks. Much like the Man of Steel, Sunman can shoot heat-vision eye rays and deliver powerful punches, but he’s limited to the latter most of time, and it becomes quite frustrating when you face laser-firing foes that deal out copious damage. And then there’s the speedboat boss, the gunfire of which cannot be avoided. I’m certain of it.
All the same, Sunman’s an interesting subject on account of its nebulous origins, its complete lack of press during the time it was apparently in development, and its director and designer, who is none other than Kenji Eno, the self-styled artiste behind the Ds titles, Enemy Zero, and the inscrutable Real Sound (which is played entirely without visuals). Sunman’s straight-on superhero tale has none of Eno’s characteristic experimentation, but perhaps there’s a message hidden in the actual gameplay. The unalterable challenge of Sunman might be Eno’s meditation on the true nature of heroism. Like Alan Moore’s Watchmen, Sunman reveals that fighting crime isn’t all tights and laser eyes; it’s a harsh, unfair ordeal that often inspires dialogue unsuitable for children.
This interpretation throws a cynical light on the game’s level-skipping cheat code. (Pause it and press A and B at once on the second controller.) Maybe Eno was of the opinion that only suckers fight the hard fights.
Apparently Sunsoft’s attempt to turn a lost Superman license into a viable title, Sunman is a rough action game impeded by grueling difficulty and limited attacks. Much like the Man of Steel, Sunman can shoot heat-vision eye rays and deliver powerful punches, but he’s limited to the latter most of time, and it becomes quite frustrating when you face laser-firing foes that deal out copious damage. And then there’s the speedboat boss, the gunfire of which cannot be avoided. I’m certain of it.
All the same, Sunman’s an interesting subject on account of its nebulous origins, its complete lack of press during the time it was apparently in development, and its director and designer, who is none other than Kenji Eno, the self-styled artiste behind the Ds titles, Enemy Zero, and the inscrutable Real Sound (which is played entirely without visuals). Sunman’s straight-on superhero tale has none of Eno’s characteristic experimentation, but perhaps there’s a message hidden in the actual gameplay. The unalterable challenge of Sunman might be Eno’s meditation on the true nature of heroism. Like Alan Moore’s Watchmen, Sunman reveals that fighting crime isn’t all tights and laser eyes; it’s a harsh, unfair ordeal that often inspires dialogue unsuitable for children.
This interpretation throws a cynical light on the game’s level-skipping cheat code. (Pause it and press A and B at once on the second controller.) Maybe Eno was of the opinion that only suckers fight the hard fights.
Popularity Crisis
You’d think that some promotion through EGM would prompt me to update
this site more frequently, but some part of my mind seems convinced
that Kidfenris.com has hit it big and should therefore never be tampered
with again. Despite that, I’m preparing some new stuff, including more
box art features. Horrible game packaging has a frighteningly elaborate
history, I’ve found.
Of course, I know what everyone really wants to see here: awful Photoshop gags. Check out this exclusive look at the American cover for Xenosaga Episode II: Jenseits von Gut und Bose.
Of course, I know what everyone really wants to see here: awful Photoshop gags. Check out this exclusive look at the American cover for Xenosaga Episode II: Jenseits von Gut und Bose.
Xenosaga: Der Wille Zur Artbook
It’s tough to think of another video game that polarizes opinions like the 1998 PlayStation RPG Xenogears, which players tend to either love for its elaborate story, intricate battles, and giant robots, or detest on account of its slow pace, crawling text, and rushed second disc. Xenosaga, the recent PlayStation2 quasi-prequel to Xenogears, is nearly as contentious with its emphasis on lengthy story sequences, linear progression, and plot twists that almost defy comprehension. But like the excellent Yasunori Mitsuda soundtracks that accompany the games, the supporting artwork for both Xenogears and Xenosaga is difficult to criticize.
With characters by Kunihiko Tanaka (Ruin Explorers, Key: The Metal Idol) and mecha from the mind of Junya Ishigaki (Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz), there’s undeniable quality to the games’ conceptual designs. And though you’d need to import the rather expensive Xenogears Perfect Works in order to own that title’s artwork, Namco and BradyGames decided to make things a little easier with Xenosaga by offering an art book (along with art prints and a T-shirt) to those who pre-ordered the game. They’re crafty, those promotions managers. They know that, at the depths of their bizarrely materialistic hearts, RPG geeks would treasure the shrink wrap from their games if it gave off the slightest hint of being collectible.
Similar to the excellent Final Fantasy IX art book that BradyGames released years ago, The Art of Xenosaga is a slimmer volume encompassing most, if not all, of the game’s design work. The character art section has both Tanaka’s original illustrations and the final renderings for the main cast, along with space for supporting folk like Captain Matthews (and his “Caution: I AM BOOZER” hat). Tanaka’s in top form for Xenosaga, and his art includes standard-issue anime archetypes like the magical-girl-show tribute Momo and the white-haired, unabashedly rotten Albedo as well as less conventional creations. A gray-tressed teenage boy goes by the capitalization-rejecting name of “chaos” and wears an odd mix of orange and black hues, while the scantily-clad android KOS-MOS has a look that’s both blatantly sexual and coldly unsettling, and she joins Kula from The King of Fighters in sharing the hair and eye colors of Evangelion’s Rei Ayanami.
Though well-designed, the mechanical art isn’t quite as interesting, since the robots, or “Anti-Gnosis Weapon Systems,” are somewhat generic constructions that wouldn’t be out of place in an anime space opera like Vandread or Dangaio. The A.G.W.S.es (which, a reader informs me, are only an anagram away from the A.W.G.S. units of Gungriffon Blaze) simply don’t show the same variety as the mecha of Xenogears, which paid tribute to every giant-‘bot cliché in the book and looked damn good doing it. Much like the robots in the game itself, the mech art of Xenosaga is an ancillary element that can be safely ignored. More noteworthy are the galleries of enemies and level layouts. The “Gnosis” aliens of Xenosaga are an intriguingly mixed bunch; some are humanoid grotesqueries, others could almost be machines, and a few bear more of a resemblance to tropical fish as drawn by H. R. Giger. Equally engrossing are the sketches of the game’s dungeons, even if some might spoil players who haven’t yet been through Xenosaga.
Of course, there’s a caveat (and my main reason for writing this piece). I’ve seen The Art of Xenosaga often clearing thirty bucks in eBay auctions, with one sale closing in excess of a hundred dollars. Not to judge another’s use of disposable income, but that’s just stupid. As nice of a bonus as this art book is, it’s far too slim and simple to be worth more than a strategy guide.
Perhaps if it were hardbound, nicely packaged, and twice as thick, like the Japanese Xenosaga Official Design Materials, one could justify spending so much. But in its current form, The Art of Xenosaga isn't worth it. If there’s any consolation, it may be that the price recently began dropping, as though buyers are starting to realize that there’s no shortage of the book. Of course, my take on this might be contaminated by the luxury of getting my copy of The Art of Xenosaga for free. If I hadn’t received it as a bonus, I might have guiltily sought one through some bidding-bloated auction. Such is the allure of a nice art book. So despite my cautions, I can at least admit that even if you pay three times its sensible cost, you’re at least getting something good in the deal.
With characters by Kunihiko Tanaka (Ruin Explorers, Key: The Metal Idol) and mecha from the mind of Junya Ishigaki (Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz), there’s undeniable quality to the games’ conceptual designs. And though you’d need to import the rather expensive Xenogears Perfect Works in order to own that title’s artwork, Namco and BradyGames decided to make things a little easier with Xenosaga by offering an art book (along with art prints and a T-shirt) to those who pre-ordered the game. They’re crafty, those promotions managers. They know that, at the depths of their bizarrely materialistic hearts, RPG geeks would treasure the shrink wrap from their games if it gave off the slightest hint of being collectible.
Similar to the excellent Final Fantasy IX art book that BradyGames released years ago, The Art of Xenosaga is a slimmer volume encompassing most, if not all, of the game’s design work. The character art section has both Tanaka’s original illustrations and the final renderings for the main cast, along with space for supporting folk like Captain Matthews (and his “Caution: I AM BOOZER” hat). Tanaka’s in top form for Xenosaga, and his art includes standard-issue anime archetypes like the magical-girl-show tribute Momo and the white-haired, unabashedly rotten Albedo as well as less conventional creations. A gray-tressed teenage boy goes by the capitalization-rejecting name of “chaos” and wears an odd mix of orange and black hues, while the scantily-clad android KOS-MOS has a look that’s both blatantly sexual and coldly unsettling, and she joins Kula from The King of Fighters in sharing the hair and eye colors of Evangelion’s Rei Ayanami.
Though well-designed, the mechanical art isn’t quite as interesting, since the robots, or “Anti-Gnosis Weapon Systems,” are somewhat generic constructions that wouldn’t be out of place in an anime space opera like Vandread or Dangaio. The A.G.W.S.es (which, a reader informs me, are only an anagram away from the A.W.G.S. units of Gungriffon Blaze) simply don’t show the same variety as the mecha of Xenogears, which paid tribute to every giant-‘bot cliché in the book and looked damn good doing it. Much like the robots in the game itself, the mech art of Xenosaga is an ancillary element that can be safely ignored. More noteworthy are the galleries of enemies and level layouts. The “Gnosis” aliens of Xenosaga are an intriguingly mixed bunch; some are humanoid grotesqueries, others could almost be machines, and a few bear more of a resemblance to tropical fish as drawn by H. R. Giger. Equally engrossing are the sketches of the game’s dungeons, even if some might spoil players who haven’t yet been through Xenosaga.
Of course, there’s a caveat (and my main reason for writing this piece). I’ve seen The Art of Xenosaga often clearing thirty bucks in eBay auctions, with one sale closing in excess of a hundred dollars. Not to judge another’s use of disposable income, but that’s just stupid. As nice of a bonus as this art book is, it’s far too slim and simple to be worth more than a strategy guide.
Perhaps if it were hardbound, nicely packaged, and twice as thick, like the Japanese Xenosaga Official Design Materials, one could justify spending so much. But in its current form, The Art of Xenosaga isn't worth it. If there’s any consolation, it may be that the price recently began dropping, as though buyers are starting to realize that there’s no shortage of the book. Of course, my take on this might be contaminated by the luxury of getting my copy of The Art of Xenosaga for free. If I hadn’t received it as a bonus, I might have guiltily sought one through some bidding-bloated auction. Such is the allure of a nice art book. So despite my cautions, I can at least admit that even if you pay three times its sensible cost, you’re at least getting something good in the deal.
Xenosaga Is Art, Technically
One can’t accuse Namco of skimping on the hype for their PlayStation 2 RPG Xenosaga. Not only has the publisher created a promotional group for eager geeks to join, but pre-ordering the game from Electronics Boutique or GameStop will net you a selection of bonus merchandise: a T-Shirt, a miniature art book, or two lithographs.
At least that’s what Namco’s in-store displays call it, though what I picked up doesn’t resemble a lithograph so much as it does artwork printed on an 11 X 14” piece of poster board. But why quibble when it’s free, and relatively nice at that?
The art in question is a pretty CG rendering of bright-eyed Xenosaga heroine Shion Uzuki leaning on a red A.G.W.S., which is presumably what game designers call giant robots when they’re intent on coming up with a mecha moniker that no one has ever used before. (Gear? Taken. Variant Armor? It’s been done. Grand Chere? Strangely enough, that’s also off the market.) Amusingly, the word is pronounced something like “Eggs” and stands for Anti-Gnosis Weapons System; not gnosis in the traditional definition of “deeper wisdom,” mind you, but Gnosis as in the invading race of aliens that harrows the remnants of humanity in the Xenosaga universe. There’s irony in there somewhere, I suspect.
The render work is fairly impressive, and it’s interesting to note that Shion goes against the stereotype of RPG protagonists by a) being female, b) not being a dedicated warrior, and c) wearing glasses. I’ve seen a few role-playing games in which the main character met the first two criteria, but for the life of me, I can’t recall an RPG heroine who sported glasses.
I’ve yet to play a minute of Xenosaga, but any game than contravenes genre standards in its main character has already scored a point with me. The art print, however, presents a problem: I’m not sure what to do with it. It’s not the sort of thing that you’d thumbtack to the wall, yet it’s not high in quality to the point where you’d frame it or anything.
As useless game junk goes, this is truly without purpose, but I’m somehow compelled to preserve it, and even seek out the other art print, which features an extensively winged image of chaos (who’s apparently the e. e. cummings of the cast) another of Xenosaga’s cast. Am I a stupid, materialistic game dork? Probably, though I’d like to consider my fondness for this “lithograph” an example of how expertly Namco is appealing to its audience.
A Totally Xtreme Calendar
The Dead or Alive series is regarded by some as a
first-rate, aggressively fun line of fighting games, while others see it
as overrated, generic pabulum based on nothing more than simple,
back-and-forth gameplay. Yet neither camp will deny that, high quality
or not, Dead or Alive features some of the gaming world’s most
unabashed attempts at sex appeal, with an ever-expanding lineup of
buxom, heavy-chested female characters. Though there are some men in
the DoA roster, no one pretends that the game’s attention is and
always has been directed at anything other than Hitomi, Kasumi, Tina,
Helena, Ayame, and any other voluptuous lasses that Tecmo’s Team Ninja
have created for the latest game in the franchise.
And that latest game just happens to be Dead or Alive Xtreme Beach Volleyball, in which all of the girls spike, serve, and wear even less than they do when fighting. And what, some Tecmo think tank probably asked, would be the best way to promote this attempt at making the athletic, sparingly clad women of Sega’s Beach Spikers look like ninety-year-old nuns by comparison?
Why not a calendar? Sports Illustrated has their swimsuit issues, so shouldn’t the Dead or Alive gals fare just as well in their own catalogue of sensual poses and tropical backdrops? Someone important apparently answered “yes,” and now, amid the stacks of strategy guides at your local game vendor, you just might find (no lie) the Dead or Alive Xtreme Beach Volleyball 2003 Calendar.
Comparisons between this publication and those featuring real-life women aren’t quite accurate, however, as the Dead or Alive calendar lacks any degree of sensuality. All of the cast members are rendered in a smooth, blatantly curvaceous style, but their computer-generated look is so artificial that they’re about as sexy as a Barbie doll. Perhaps there’s some allure to the way the girls animate in the games, but they’re little more than mannequins when placed in a static capacity. Granted, you might mistake Christie, Lei Fang, Ayame, and their ilk for flesh-and-blood models when you’re standing several feet away from the calendar and squinting, but a closer look reveals only a sorta impressive example of video game graphics. It’s likely to titillate only desperate adolescents, who I think are horribly spoiled by today’s video games. When I was an awkward preteen, we didn’t have volleyball titles stocked with jiggling 3-D women! We had to ogle the referee in Super Spike V-Ball! And we thought she was hot, dammit!
Anyway, there’s also the superfluous question of how well this thing holds up as an actual calendar, in which case it's fairly cheap. The light colors make it easy to write on (which is more than I can say for the largely black décor of the H.R. Giger collection that I used for 2002), but the pages aren’t nearly as sturdy as a usual calendar, and the whole thing seems in danger of falling off of the wall when it has only a single flimsy page to hold up the weight of the following months.
The calendar really isn't worth an in-store price of fifteen bucks, though it’s not a bad collectible if you can get it as a promotional giveaway with Dead or Alive Xtreme Beach Volleyball for the Xbox. Yet I wouldn’t worry if you miss out, as it's little more than a semi-useful bonus and an tribute to how far Tecmo will go to capitalize on the T & A element of Dead or Alive. As such, only fans of the series will want to bother with this extra, and they might be better off saving up for Dead or Alive Wet T-Shirt Dodgeball or whatever else Team Ninja has in mind.
And that latest game just happens to be Dead or Alive Xtreme Beach Volleyball, in which all of the girls spike, serve, and wear even less than they do when fighting. And what, some Tecmo think tank probably asked, would be the best way to promote this attempt at making the athletic, sparingly clad women of Sega’s Beach Spikers look like ninety-year-old nuns by comparison?
Why not a calendar? Sports Illustrated has their swimsuit issues, so shouldn’t the Dead or Alive gals fare just as well in their own catalogue of sensual poses and tropical backdrops? Someone important apparently answered “yes,” and now, amid the stacks of strategy guides at your local game vendor, you just might find (no lie) the Dead or Alive Xtreme Beach Volleyball 2003 Calendar.
Comparisons between this publication and those featuring real-life women aren’t quite accurate, however, as the Dead or Alive calendar lacks any degree of sensuality. All of the cast members are rendered in a smooth, blatantly curvaceous style, but their computer-generated look is so artificial that they’re about as sexy as a Barbie doll. Perhaps there’s some allure to the way the girls animate in the games, but they’re little more than mannequins when placed in a static capacity. Granted, you might mistake Christie, Lei Fang, Ayame, and their ilk for flesh-and-blood models when you’re standing several feet away from the calendar and squinting, but a closer look reveals only a sorta impressive example of video game graphics. It’s likely to titillate only desperate adolescents, who I think are horribly spoiled by today’s video games. When I was an awkward preteen, we didn’t have volleyball titles stocked with jiggling 3-D women! We had to ogle the referee in Super Spike V-Ball! And we thought she was hot, dammit!
Anyway, there’s also the superfluous question of how well this thing holds up as an actual calendar, in which case it's fairly cheap. The light colors make it easy to write on (which is more than I can say for the largely black décor of the H.R. Giger collection that I used for 2002), but the pages aren’t nearly as sturdy as a usual calendar, and the whole thing seems in danger of falling off of the wall when it has only a single flimsy page to hold up the weight of the following months.
The calendar really isn't worth an in-store price of fifteen bucks, though it’s not a bad collectible if you can get it as a promotional giveaway with Dead or Alive Xtreme Beach Volleyball for the Xbox. Yet I wouldn’t worry if you miss out, as it's little more than a semi-useful bonus and an tribute to how far Tecmo will go to capitalize on the T & A element of Dead or Alive. As such, only fans of the series will want to bother with this extra, and they might be better off saving up for Dead or Alive Wet T-Shirt Dodgeball or whatever else Team Ninja has in mind.
Welcome
Well, the site's up and running, though it's devoid of working links or
any real content whatsoever. I take solace in the fact that few will see
this test page, as I haven't told anyone about this site yet.
For those visitors who stumbled here in some bored search for Norse mythology databases, I have nothing to offer except this largely unrelated example of my attempts to translate the PlayStation2 game Xenosaga from its original Japanese.
The site can only improve from here.
For those visitors who stumbled here in some bored search for Norse mythology databases, I have nothing to offer except this largely unrelated example of my attempts to translate the PlayStation2 game Xenosaga from its original Japanese.
The site can only improve from here.
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