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Sega Dreamcast is the Best Gaming Console of All Time – OF ALL TIME!

The Sega Dreamcast is hailed by legions as the best videogame system ever created. Gaming fans new and old revered Sega’s final foray into the competitive market of console gaming as their greatest achievement yet. The Dreamcast was more than just a gaming console – it represented a defiant protest of century-old Nintendo, a last stand against the staying power of Sony, and stood out as the ideological opposite of the soulless, ball-less piece of three-headed Hydra shit Microsoft calls an Xbox.

The Sega Dreamcast had the best repertoire of first- and third-party games of any console, the first mainstream integration of online play, and clear, beautiful graphics. Many games boasted 60 frames per second (FPS), making racing games and shooters like Unreal Tournament very exciting, and leading many to wonder, “Wait how many FPS was it before?”

Dreamcast even had a web browser (with an upgraded 2.0 version!) so young children, who didn’t yet know how to delete their browser histories, could safely download pornography without fear of parental retribution – right on their very own standard-definition TVs!

Behold, The Legendary Sega Dreamcast

Sega Dreamcast

To the average mouth breathing redditor, this looks like your average videogame console with a sexy Dreamcast logo on it. But what would you know? Part of the Dreamcast’s charm is in its subtlety. The Dreamcast had a little orange light that, when the system powered on, glowed bright orange and inspired the original design scheme used by the mysterious and fabled Elf Wax Times publication which – according to legend – reigned supreme for a better part of the previous decade. But who knows for sure? The system advances through several stages of power until its fans kick on and Phantasy Star Online bounces to life. Oh yeah, but if your VMU battery is dead, the VMU screen will appear faded, and Dreamcast itself will scream at you by emitting a long, ear-piercing tone from a tiny speaker built into the console. This is a gentle reminder to change your VMU battery. The tone gets longer based on how dead the battery is. You change it because you do as you’re told, and you don’t want to hear that noise anymore. Sega thought of everything!

What’s a VMU battery?

Upon closer inspection, the most observant of retards may notice there is a tiny screen on board the Dreamcast controller, which was revolutionary at the time. Dreamcast controllers also feature two analog triggers that fit nicely in the hands, like dual-wielded pistols with clitorises for triggers. Useful as a heads up display, the removable memory device known as a VMU (Visual Memory Unit) powers the tiny screen, which changed to fit whatever needs game developers chose for it. Oftentimes it displayed ammunition data, hit points or even jokes and small bits of game lore. Admittedly, it sounds kind of gimmicky. Fortunately, there’s more to it than that. You could download games onto that bitch, straight off your Dreamcast game discs, then jerk it out and play it like a fucking GameBoy. No shit. Look:

VMUSega just didn’t give a fuck. In the game Sonic Adventure, you collected Chao eggs. You can load eggs – or a hatched chao – into your VMU and then when you go to school, or work – where you no doubt suffer as a result of being apart from the Dreamcast – you can play Chao Adventure on the VMU, leveling your Chao’s stats to make him stronger for when you load him back into Sonic Adventure. Now that’s metagaming!

PowerStone contained three games available for download. There were fighting games, gun games and puzzles. There are a bunch more but that’s all I can remember off the top of my head. As a kid, I worked for my own videogame (and weed) money, so I didn’t have every game. Sorry, cunt.

If the VMU had anything going against it, it was the watch battery in the back that’s always dying, trying to meet the demands of all the awesomeness inside our VMU. When you needed a new one, you had to walk up to some sad person at Wal-Mart who acted like he was doing you this unspoken favor of constantly supplying you with these flat, quarter-sized watch batteries. It’s not opium, Rajiv. It’s just a fucking battery. I don’t remember what they cost.

Probably the coolest thing about the Dreamcast was just owning a god damn Dreamcast.

Tell you what, that’s the end of this game review, and there’s no looking back now. Now fire up your Dreamcasts and put on Slave Zero.

Masturbate, don’t procreate.

 

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Diablo III – It’s prettay prettay prettay prettay . . . good

Diablo IIIThe American gaming male automatically degenerated into an alternating cycle of hardcore gaming and furious, repeated bouts of masturbation Tuesday after Mother Blizzard released her tepid seed into the yawning, fertile womb of jilted fantasy gamers who have already seen enough WoW expansions to make General Patreus reconsider an extensive Iraq strategy.

The most celebrated feature of the game thus far is that in Diablo III, you’re no longer a slave to reading. Audio lore gives you experience points as you continue about your quest by reading your own journal entries to you. No longer will gamers groan at the sight of glowing books which fall open into the floor in front of them.

Diablo III journals are now jam-packed full of game lore you never cared about before, but sounds really cool coming through your speakers as you ransack the libraries where you found it, like an SS squado looking for ze papers.

Diablo III is well-optimized to run on computers dating all the way back to 2007, when Barack Obama was busy hiring the white collar criminals responsible for America’s economic collapse onto his financial planning committees. Those were shitty computers back then, but they will still run Diablo III at medium settings and you won’t feel like the poor kid whose left light up sneaker stopped working a week in because you did the Macarena too hard. Good luck with Minecraft, though. NASA is still working on a PC capable of running it at maximum render distance.

The NSA supercomputer might be able to blanket the United States with Constitutional rights violations, but it still can't keep up with Tribes: Ascend
The NSA supercomputer might be able to blanket the United States with Constitutional rights violations, but it still can't keep up with Tribes: Ascend.

Many new games push medium-rated hardware beyond their limits, unreasonably so. Recommended specs if you want to run Tribes: Ascend, for example, requires that your computer be qualified to run CERN supercollider calculations as theorized having taken place on the varied surfaces of distant asteroids, providing NASA had a budget and Hi-Rez Studios wasn’t run by Jews hell-bent on absorbing it.

Diablo III has you shooting the shit out of Thriller extras with both hands; it even has rapid-fire drawstring longbows which makes no sense at all, except magic. Instead of magic, however, the Demon Hunter – like chronicle.su – balances hate with discipline to land combination attacks of rippling snarefuck and piercing arrows of godlessness.

The storyline enlists you – the main character, whoever you are – to assist Leah with various quests and, without raping her, collaborate with this old Nick Oliveri-looking dude to own up on some shit-eating demons. You even get to help a guy kill his wife who, inexplicably, is a mini-boss loaded to the tits with rare magical items and gold. She’s a sweetheart, though. Play to find out why.

I’m about to.

It’s $60. The first coolguy to leave us a comment on this review (with your email in the appropriate field) gets an official chronicle.su Diablo III guest pass providing free access to early gameplay.

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Cars 2 Review – Where Were The People?

CARS - MATER
GIT R DUN!

I watched Cars 2 tonight. It was better than the first one, which contained faggoty overtones of Podunk nostalgia.

Cars 2 was less celebratory of self-imposed limitations and even called out Mater & his voice actor Larry the Cable Guy’s act of ignorance by pointing out how the audience is too busy laughing at his act to realize he’s not really a good ol’ boy like them is. In Mater’s case, his character really was that dumb. But in “Larry’s” case, he’s not.

What I liked about Cars 2 was all the stereotypes. They had Asians, Mexicans, Italians – Russians named Ivan – all down pat. They even added a “black” car – an old hooptie that sounded like a doped-up Wanda Sykes or something. It was my pleasure to watch this movie in the white-bred Appalachian community of Waynesville, North Carolina (right outside of Clyde, near Canton, for those of you who need a point of reference) and they loved that sista-car. She was funny, for a you-know-what.

Cars 2 is NOT for children. That is, unless you like exposing your children to banality and mediocrity while rednecks clap for the theater screen. “That was too much!” As Mater boosts around London with rocket boosters.

Now that I think more about Mater, maybe Cars 2 was a celebration of good-natured ignorance after all. He was instructed not to change even if he is seen as an embarrassment to the entire world: all but the Car Citizens of defunct Radiator Springs located along an obsolete desert stretch of Route 66.

Mater won the hottest bitchin’-ass car featured in the entire movie – a British spy technician luxury sports car with medium-sized car tits and a sultry voice actress who is assertive and qualified, but not quite as domineering as the weakest male character in the film.

Despite all the gender and racial stereotyping, and in spite of the product placement and references to TV commercials, I could still relate to the storytelling found in Cars 2, until I realized one thing: I could not connect, emotionally, to the characters or the plot-line. That’s because there are no fucking people.

Who drives the cars? Why do they construct buildings? Are there car beds in Car Tokyo in the Car Apartments and what about the Car Churches? Is there a Car God? There was a Car Pope in Cars 2. But not one single human being. So why do the cars speak different languages in different accents? Did the cars evolve over many hundreds of thousands, or even millions of years, to develop their own languages and regional dialects? Was there a time in Cars history when the Cars had not yet invented their parts because they had not yet even mastered stone tools?

Finally. I’m going to ask this one more time. Where were all the fucking people?

 

And now for Dan Whitney, before he became “Larry the Cable Guy!”