Welcome back to this blog's ongoing mission to assign a letter grade to every existing Pocket Monster. To anyone who thought I had gotten bored with this feature and abandoned it, I regret to inform you that you just lost your office pool. In this segment, we take it fast and slow, and set our feet on a sturdy rock.
071. Victreebel Best Name: Utsubot (Japanese) Type: Grass/Poison Last time, Bellsprout ably demonstrated why its name maybe should be initialed a certain way. If you get my drift. So it's a relief today to see that it made good in the end. You earned your Victree, 'Bel. James had one in the anime—in fact, he had two, and at least one liked to show affection by putting James's entire head in its mouth. I find that amusing, giving such a lovey-dovey nature to a Pokémon that typically dissolves its prey with acid to digest it a la Brundlefly. Hey, what do you call a tiny Victreebel? A Babybel. Sorry, that joke was really cheesy. OH GOD I CAN'T TURN IT OFF B+
072. Tentacool Best Name: English Type: Water/Poison My brain is just a Tentacool in the ocean of my head 'Cause I played too much Pokémon And I woke up seein' red (and blue) And now all I really want from life is to make Team Rocket dead, on account that, My brain is just a Tentacool in the ocean of my head[1] The Zubat of the sea. Pikachu, ready to do some dynamite fishing? (C-)
073. Tentacruel Best Name: Tentoxa (German) Type: Water/Poison Ditching the Brainiac dome was a smart move. I'm still roasting your face with a lightning bolt, though. C+
074. Geodude Best Name: Racaillou (French) Type: Rock/Ground I'm not about to go back and check, but I'm fairly certain we're on the first Pokémon (in numerical order) modeled after an inanimate object and not an animal or other organism. Hooray! We'll see this particular category go off the rails later, but a rock is a good place to start. Rock makes for a sturdy, unwavering foundation, and who's a sturdier friend and ally than Geodude? I bet you can't even think about it without imagining it saying its own name in the anime, in that unforgettable monotone rasp. Even its ubiquity in Mt. Moon isn't a strike against it, because Geodude is someone you want on your team. Well, not so much for Misty, but it'll give Lt. Surge what-for, I can tell you that. A-
075. Graveler Best Name: Gravalanch (French) Type: Rock/Ground Is it odd that I think Graveler looks weaker than Geodude? Something about his texture. He looks made out of papier-mâché, like a big rock piñata. It bears out in the name too—"Graveler". When you want rocks for power, you're not looking for gravel. At the very least, I want something that meets the C.W. McCall standard. C
076. Golem Best Name: Geowaz (German) Type: Rock/Ground Another real-world name, sad face. Strangely, even though golems are usually composed entirely of rock and clay, this is the only 'mon in the Geodude line with carbon-based external body parts. I understand that mythological creatures and their depictions are open to interpretation, but there are some real liberties being taken here. Every time I've ever seen it in action, Golem has had the thankless job of blowing itself up to take an opponent down with it. Has anyone ever told Golem it can have its KO cake and eat it too? Incidentally, if you've never read The Golem and the Jinni by Helene Wecker, that's an oversight you need to rectify immediately. C-
077. Ponyta Best Name: Basically the same everywhere. Type: Fire Okay. So I can understand Grimer running around the abandoned Pokémon Mansion. There's no upkeep happening, the place rots, gets moldy, etc., and that decay and mold and grossness all manifest as this poisonous blob thing. I'm with you so far. But letting wild horses overrun the place? That's way beyond any forgivable measure of irresponsibility. Whoever owns the lease on that joint needs a stern brow-beating. I can't hold that against Ponyta, of course, but what I can dock it for is showing up too late in the game to be a viable fire option. Bonus points for being a clever play on "bonita" (Spanish for "pretty"). B-
078. Rapidash Best Name: English Type: Fire Once upon a time there was a Nintendo 64 game called Pokémon Snap. You rode on a rail in a protective vehicle and took pictures of Pokémon in the wild. It was way more fun than it had any right to be. It was a good game for my FWAHTCCSECTHHTPG[2] to own, because each Pokémon had a score that was based on how well you photographed it, and since anyone could contribute a high score, it wound up being a nice communal experience. Anyway, on this friend's copy, one of our mutual friends had the high score for Rapidash, and she told us all do whatever you want, but don't touch Rapidash, that one is mine. Long story short, I touched it, and to this day, if I immerse myself in the memory, I can still feel where she punched my arm. B-
079. Slowpoke Best Name: Flegmon (German) Type: Water/Psychic One might be tempted to draw a throughline from Psyduck to Slowpoke, on account of the fact that they're both slow-witted (or at least appear as such). But Psyduck put forth genuine effort. He held his head in his hands, quacked aloud his insecurities, and lived a life mired in question marks. Slowpoke just sits there. That's why he gets that name. He's got more in common with Abra, though the latter can at least teleport away from danger. Slowpoke is the turkey that drowns from staring up at the rain, the lobster at the center of the question "does it feel pain when you boil it". Truly, it is the village idiot of Pokémon, an argument supported best by the fact that according to the Pokédex, it is known as the "Dopey Pokémon". C
080. Slowbro Best Name: Lahmus (German) Type: Water/Psychic Slowbro definitely bros like a bro. That might not make any sense, but it feels correct. Sometimes it's portrayed in artwork with a Kubrick glare that I find distinctly unsettling. I don't know what you and that conch shell are planning, but I don't like it, y'hear? When I hear or say or think "Slowbro", my mind goes to the dude in "Yertle the Turtle" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers who goes "look at that turtle go, bro". I never read Scar Tissue but I recall hearing Anthony Kiedis or someone say that that guy was their coke dealer, and they gave him a part in the song so that basically he wouldn't break their kneecaps. I really hope that's true but I've already got a sizable reading queue and music memoirs don't really figure into it right now. I'm not a big fan of the 80s, despite the fact that they earn huge bonus points for me being born in them, but you can't entirely write off any decade that gave us a George Clinton-produced funk band rap-rocking about Dr. Seuss books. B- Next time: Magnemite to Shellder ___________________________________________________ ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ [1] One (1) internet cookie to anyone who knows what I'm spoofing here. [2] That would be "Friend Who Always Had The Current Consoles So Everyone Came To His House To Play Games".
Hey y'all, what's shakin'? Chicken McNuggets, that's what. Those little light brown crispy abominations—you either love them or you hate them. Me, I love them. I'm not super-happy about what that says about me, but it comes from the heart, so my aim is true. Other than containing gradually greater amounts of actual meat, McNuggets haven't changed much since their introduction in 1983. Now, however, in addition to their venerable line of dipping sauces, McDonald's offers a trio of flavor powders, applied to the outer surface of the McNugget via vigorous shaking.
I know right off the bat the above picture is going to upset some people because, yes, you have to apply the powder yourself. That's like when you go to the movies and you order nachos, and you're dreaming of a paper boat full of giant round tortilla chips with neon yellow gold spilling over the sides, but then the concession stand kid gives you a snack-size bag of Fritos (NOT EVEN SCOOPS) and a Dixie cup that doesn't even contain enough radioactive goop to cover a Cheez-It. Also, you can see that I received only one shake bag for three different flavors. BAD FORM, MCDONALD'S. I am not interested in a zesty chipotle garlic BBQ parmesan ranch Frankennugget. With nothing similar on hand, I got the powder out of the bag the same way I got it in: by shaking it (and also wiping it down with a napkin). It worked well enough, in that I didn't detect any of the previous flavor when I went to try a new one, but I did go to a different McDonald's for this batch than for the other ones I've had, and the other McDonald's all had the good sense to give me a separate paper bag for each flavor. I'm not going to publicly shame the location that did this to me ... this time. When I'm faced with multiple flavors of a product, as in the case of the Daredevil Loaded Grillers[1], I try them in the order I think I'm going to like them, from most to least. That brought zesty ranch to the plate first. When it comes to shaking objects, my mighty arm can match the paint mixer at Home Depot in power and intensity, so the seasoning got pretty well distributed. (Before and after shaking below.)
The zesty ranch powder has an extremely prominent dairy component, along with equally powerful vibes of garlic and onion. McDonald's must have more in mind than just chicken sandwiches when it comes to their recent commitment to using real buttermilk. I really like this flavor, but my wife had a very visceral negative reaction to it. It is so strong as to potentially set off a distant "fake" alarm in the back of the minds of some, so your tolerance for ranch will likely reliably predict how much you're going to enjoy this flavor. Next up came parmesan garlic. Of the three flavors available, this one misses the mark by the widest margin. The seasoning tastes almost stale, with too much of the "feet" profile and not enough of whatever it is that offsets that foot taste and makes parmesan palatable and pleasing. You might have had parmesan garlic "hot" wings before: if you have, you know that they're all flavor and no heat, and if you mess up that flavor, you've got nothing. Chipotle BBQ vindicated my decision to move from most- to least-anticipated, because I had the lowest expectations for it and it turned out the best, so I may have ended up liking it even more than I would have otherwise. The kick I got from the first chipotle BBQ nugget was a huge surprise. Right away, you feel an immediate yet enduring impact. It's very smoky, but also kind of sweet. The only knock against it would be that after four or five of them, the artificiality of that particular flavor becomes more apparent than with the others—that high-fructose ketchupiness that signifies an inferior barbecue sauce. Those intolerant of any level of spice in anything whatsoever will want to avoid it. Their loss, though,
because the chipotle BBQ seasoning totally bowled me over. It's the only flavor of the three I would prefer to the total exclusion of the liquid dipping sauces. Speaking of the sauces, I can't recommend pairing a powder-laden nugget with any of them. The sauces are an "in your face" kind of proposition, while the seasonings are more earthy and tend to complement the McNugget rather than bury it. McNuggets in the past have been little more than a conduit for sauce consumption; if you're not ready to confront the idea of an unadorned, undipped McNugget, I'd say don't take the plunge until you are. None of the combinations of dust and sauce I've tried up to now have lit me up, though I should also note they didn't drive me to misery either. Overall, the Shakin' Flavor Seasonings are a motley bunch, achieving wildly varying levels of success, sometimes seeming like a half-hearted and/or glib attempt at a boneless wing, other times shining a faint light on a road to a brand new era of McNugget possibilities. I get the feeling these won't be around forever, though their availability in my area appears to suggest expansion from a few test markets, so they've at least got a foothold. If you enjoy doing things that work on both figurative and literal levels, you should shake things up and expand your McNugget paradigm with one of these flavors. Chipotle BBQ gets my highest recommendation, but zesty ranch runs a not-quite-close second. ___________________________________________________ ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ [1] Worst Hardy Boys book ever.
Time for another installment of 8GR8, the feature that takes eight awesome pieces of video game music that tie around a certain theme and put them together in list form. This time, we're looking exclusively at one game: Seiken Densetsu 3, the excellent sequel to Secret of Mana that never got released (officially, anyway) outside Japan. Normally, in 8GR8, we look at a wide array of different games. But sometimes, it's fun and also timely to narrow the focus. Not only are we examining a single game today, but we're also looking at more songs from it—twelve, to be exact, rather than the usual eight. The game on the docket is Seiken Densetsu 3, an adventure in all ways superior not only to its predecessor, Secret of Mana, but to many (if not all) of the games in the series that came after it as well. Seiken Densetsu 3 claims the honor of being my favorite JRPG of all time, and the 20th anniversary of its release falls on September 30, and so there's no better time to take a look at its excellent soundtrack, composed entirely, like Secret of Mana, by Hiroki Kikuta. 1. "Little Sweet Café"
Kicking off with one of the town themes, probably the most relaxed one. There's a moment in games of this scope where you realize you're inhabiting a quaint little pocket of peace before some universe-bending stuff goes down, and it's tempting to want to stay in that pocket. And technically, you can—I mean, it's not like there's ever a time limit in these games, despite the pressing issues at hand. Sometimes, it even prevents me from finishing games. You could probably pipe this into a Starbucks and no one would bat an eyelash. Actually, how about you go save the universe? I'll just sit here nursing this venti caramel frappuccino. 2. "Nuclear Fusion"
I'll admit that Seiken Densetsu 3's oddball sound design is an acquired taste. The drums resemble nothing so much as a Street Fighter punch connecting with an opponent's jaw, and intense melee combat often sounds like jelly monsters having a slapfight. But if you can get past the former, you'll find it gives a huge adrenaline boost to many of the soundtrack's drum-heavy songs. This is one track I think benefits greatly from it, and it contains a callback to "Meridian Dance" from Secret of Mana to boot. 3. "Splash Hop"
Following the "bigger is better" credo, Seiken Densetsu 3 features not one travel buddy animal, but two. Flammie the white dragon shows up later in the game, but before he arrives, you get Booskaboo, a turtle in a snorkel summoned at certain shores by the Pihyara Flute. Booskaboo is a laid-back kind of guy, and his theme, a loping reggae tune, reflects that well. Back in the 90s, you couldn't swing a cat by the tail without hitting a VGM track with steel drums in it, but I love the bouncy breakdown featuring them here, as well as the effusive followup phrase that ends the loop. Few tracks in the game are as whistle-able as this one. 4. "Harvest November"
"Sultry" isn't generally a word that comes to mind when considering desert themes, except when playing this (and possibly a Shantae game). The heat of Navarre isn't of the oppressive variety. As deserts go, it's actually a pretty relaxing, pleasant, and fertile place. (The game saves its scary licks for the Valley of Flames, nestled deep within the desert.) 5. "Different Road"
The theme that plays while traveling the Path to the Heavens, a series of winding caves and rock bridges that culminates in both the meeting of Flammie and a view that by Super Nintendo standards is absolutely breathtaking. I like that Kikuta managed to bake such a sense of urgency into an otherwise steady-tempo'd track; it comes early in the adventure, but there are still things to be done, a world to save, and no time to waste. 6. "High Tension Wire"
Seiken Densetsu 3 has a number of different boss themes, many of which correspond to a certain type of boss or circumstance. "High Tension Wire", my favorite song on the entire soundtrack, plays during bosses that fly, like the harpy-esque Tzenker and one of the god-beasts[1], Dangaard, a two-headed griffin, whom your party fights while aboard a soaring Flammie. It's not enough to just post the song; this one has to be witnessed in the proper context. The first time I entered that battle, it literally took my breath away for a few seconds. 7. "Faith Total Machine"
Another boss theme, this one playing during bosses that are ghosts, like Gorva on the ghost ship and god-beast Lightgazer. This one was a grower for me, as I originally preferred the Dolan-battle-exclusive "Black Soup", but over time the arrhythmic drums of the intro to "Faith Total Machine" plus its overall tempo have given this one the edge over it. 8. "Three of Darkside"
Most of Seiken Densetsu 3's soundtrack either gets your adrenaline pumping or massages your brain, but Kikuta can unleash the creep factor when he needs to as well. I love it in RPGs when characters enter the void, and the party in this game does so in spectacular fashion, getting sucked into the nether to fight with the eighth and final god-beast, Zable-Fahr—a frightening jester-demon of two heads (later three)—after your ragtag group finds the fabled Mana Stone of Darkness just prior to its destruction. This is a song that makes you feel really hopeless—like no matter how leveled-up you are, the thing you're up against is just too big, and you're not getting out of the Phantom Zone alive. 9. "Angel's Fear"
If you listen to this one for even just past the intro, you'll recognize it as the intro theme to Secret of Mana, and if you know the names of songs that appear in video games, you might have even guessed that before you heard note one. This is a much more melancholy arrangement, however, plucked out on only a piano and an acoustic guitar, both samples sounding totally amazing on that Super Famicom sound chip. 10. "The Sacrifice, Part III"
The final final boss theme of the game, which comes roaring in after the most perfect pregnant pause where you're not sure if you killed it or it's entering its final phase. (Spoiler: it's the latter.) The major key ensures that you flex your muscles and give that boss—whether it's the Dragon Emperor, the Masked Mage, or the Dark Lich[2]—all you've got, while the minor bridge reminds you how far you've come and reins you in, making sure you give the battle the gravity it deserves. If this song doesn't make you fall in love with those wacky punch-noise drums once and for all, nothing will. 11. "Farewell Song"
Songs like this are why I hate beating long games that allow me to get invested in the fates of the characters. The first time I beat this game, I legitimately got misty the first time I beat the game and the Mana Goddess reveals that Mana will be disappearing from the world, but exhorts the heroes to "remember me ... [and] make sure your children remember..." because Mana magic will return to the world in a thousand years. Some of my not playing many RPGs is because I don't have the time to invest in them or I didn't get into them at the height of their popularity, but if I'm being totally truthful, a substantial chunk of it is I don't like saying goodbye to them. 12. "Return to Forever"
Despite the title of the track, this is unfortunately not Chick Corea and his band of jazz fusion masters sitting in for the final track. Nevertheless, it still makes for an excellent end to an incredible quest. Watching Booskaboo and Flammie travel the world thinking, "Well, what are we gonna do now? I guess just hide out for a thousand years" ties up a loose end I didn't know I wanted tied. What I like about the video for this song is that it allows ample playtime for the loop that "ends" the song. Almost half the video's runtime is devoted to that loop, and nothing says "it's over, man, turn it off, go do something else" like four minutes of that. Though I could sit and listen to it for much longer. ___________________________________________________ ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ [1] Or "benevodons", if you prefer the official nomenclature. [2] The game gives you a different final boss and penultimate dungeon depending on which of the six playable characters you choose as your main one.
A couple years ago, Stephen King took part in an AMA (Ask Me Anything) on Reddit. It's a good read if you have the time, but one particular piece of it lingers in my memory still today. Someone asked him about the prospect of other authors writing stories set in the Dark Tower universe, to which King responded:
I think you might be talking about fanfic. I have no control over that, and I understand the urge, but I think writers would be best served by creating new worlds.
I'm not here to disparage fan fiction, though I've never seen any I would describe with any adjective more enthusiastic than "readable". I'll also disclaim, before anyone decides to get all clever-clogs about it, that I'm fully aware of the irony of applying King's words to Super Mario Maker, for what is level building if not a glorified design variant of fan fiction, and what is Mario Maker if not an official Nintendo-stamped ticket to a world that has hitherto inhabited a legal gray area at best? Nevertheless, it's sound advice that, I feel, is salient in this context. I wish I had thought to mention this in the original 12 Tips post, but it didn't occur to me until I saw this tweet land in my Twitter feed, having been retweeted by composer Jake Kaufman. The tweet only shows a screenshot of a Mario Maker level, but you can see it in action in the video I've posted below. In case you didn't follow the link, the level is a recreation of the "Plains of Passage" level from Shovel Knight.[1]
What on earth is the point of putting in so much time and hard work to ape someone else's creation? The obvious answer is tribute. You want to show how much you love this or that work, and this is how you decide to show it. From all my impressions of it, however, Mario Maker is neither an appropriate nor useful medium for homage. Jeremy Parish demonstrated this when he recreated the infamous dam level from the NES Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles game. He adapted it to the strictures of the Wii U well enough, but it wasn't one of his better efforts. The limitations of the game seem to discourage this sort of thing, if indirectly. Coming up with original ideas isn't easy. Believe me, some days I sit in front of SMBX waiting for the muse to smile upon me and I get bupkis. It would be lovely if you could flip a switch and watch as angels bring amazing levels to your brain on beams of light, but you can't. I just couldn't live with myself if I Xerox'd someone else's level and called it a day. To me, that kind of thing implies not only a lack of creativity but also a lack of confidence, both in oneself and one's level creating abilities and in the player to expect more out of a game than second-rate copies of familiar territory. Nevertheless, I expect the level will be played millions of times and people will love it and rate it highly, and I will continue yelling at children to get off my lawn. It's not just writers—or, in this case, level builders—who are best served by the creation of new worlds. It's the player as well. When you put something new out there, even if you think it's not that good, it's still something no one's ever seen before, which is preferable (in my opinion) to playing the video game equivalent of fan art. If I wanted to play Shovel Knight, I would play Shovel Knight. (Which I think I will go do now.) ___________________________________________________ ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ [1] The connection between Kaufman and Shovel Knight is that he composed most of the music for it.
From time to time, one or both of the gormless gasbags that comprise the creative aspect of Penny Arcade opens his stinking maw and declaims upon some subject he has little or no idea about in order to remind you, in case you had somehow forgotten, that theirs is an idiotic and reprehensible brand that does not deserve your clicks. In this case, it's Jerry Holkins[1], usually the more reserved of the two, who has chosen to speak, taking Polygon's Phil Kollar to task for his Mad Max review, which he deems an abject failure of criticism. Holkins's default prose is a shade of purple that normally makes someone wonder if you should have a doctor look at that. It's the kind of thing you might forgive if you liked him enough, but it's so much worse when it couches such aggressively incorrect observations. Besides investing far more in the concept of numerical review scores than any level-headed human being should, Holkins posits the quite serious accusation that the review was scored as it was merely as a trolling maneuver, dismisses subjectivity as so much fooforah, and submits that arriving at the conclusion that Mad Max merits a 5/10 on one's own suggests a lack of qualification for the profession of video game critic. Of course, this hot mess has got us all talking about review scores again, which is always a total drag. Forbes limply threw their hat into the ring, essentially saying Holkins was definitely way off base but that also maybe Polygon brought this on themselves a little by committing to using the full scope of the review scale when they know the average reader is mentally hewing to a more "seven as average"-oriented school-type scale. Paul Tassi, the contributor, says this:
The problem here is that Polygon, and occasionally other outlets who do this, are bucking the informally established system, which creates a series of disconnects between the review and the score, the score and the reader, and the reader and the review.
This is completely dumb, because if the system is "informally established", how can they be bucking anything? There is no universal standard for video game review scores. Such a thing is not remotely close to possible. If you're reading Polygon and you're consciously choosing to engage with their brand of criticism, then you as the reader have an obligation to determine and comprehend the meanings of their ratings before commenting on them. And wouldn't you know it, they lay all of that out in no uncertain terms on their "About Reviews" page. Mad Max was given a five, and this is what the page has to say about fives:
A score of five indicates a bland, underwhelming game that's functional but little else. These games might still possess quirks or aspects that appeal to certain players.
You can read the review at the link I provided above. The tone of the text seems to me to align pretty closely with what Polygon would consider a five. Basically, the game works, but it's shallow and bloated and boring. The score even fits Jerry under its umbrella, since clearly he is one of the "certain players" to which many aspects of the game appealed. So what's his problem? Well, for one, as stated above, he clearly believes way too hard in the power of numerical scores. Almost every website that hosts game reviews has accepted that scores are a necessary evil. The only site I can think of offhand that attempted to eschew them entirely is Gameological, and it lasted less than two years before returning to the warmth of the AV Club's womb. (But oh, what a glorious two years it was.) Polygon has reconciled with the concept just about as well as you could ask of a mainstream gaming journalism website in 2015. The problem is that of all the many categories of pop culture, gaming is the one with the most obnoxious dissenters, and even its most successful and ostensibly high-minded paragons do not feel like the onus to decouple the review grade spectrum from the report cards they got in high school is on them. The most appalling idea advanced here is the notion that the score is, in Holkins's words, a "tool designed to make [him] talk about the review". Only a masochist would actively court this kind of discussion, and only a jerk would use a platform as far-reaching as Polygon to goose people for laffs. As far as I can tell, Phil Kollar is neither. When someone lays out their true opinions in such a well-spoken and civil manner, dismissing it as mere trolling is grossly offensive. My other favorite sentence is this one: "If the number only refers to the interior geometry of your skull, unmoored from any shared consciousness, maybe numbers are not for you." Oh! I get it. The score is stupid because it came from inside Phil's brain and doesn't reflect the opinions of "regular" gamers (among which Holkins risibly attempts to position himself) or huddle together with all the other little dots on an aggregate graph. Silly Phil! Never mind that he didn't even come up with the score himself, since according to that handy-dandy About Reviews page, "the reviewer meets with a group of senior editors to determine which score on our scale properly reflects the text as written". No, he must have been spoiling to cheese off his audience from the first keystroke. That is the only way a boy's beloved Mad Max could receive a score as ignominious as a five. That it took three days for Holkins's post to even reach Kollar's awareness testifies to the diminishing power of the Penny Arcade brand. One presumes that it got as little attention as it did because he managed to muster the restraint not to suggest that anyone get raped. In any event, if he must preface his denouncement of a legitimate piece of writing by diminishing the form as a whole and he reads reviews when he is tired and grumpy and thinks they are baiting him and that no one should or can write a good and proper review without tapping into the Metacritic hive mind, then I would suggest maybe opinions are not for him. ___________________________________________________ ¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯ [1] I refuse to indulge them in their silly nicknames.
