Just for the record, that gust of wind you felt at about 10:25 PM PST last night *wasn't* a hurricane or even a particularly-strong storm. Rather, it was the collective exhalation of the entire west coast of Canada following one of the most tense hockey games ever experienced within our borders. When Alex Burrows (#14 in your program, but #1 in your hearts ... at least until his next needless high-sticking penalty) ripped his 'half-clapper, top-cheddar' (thanks to TSN Analyst @armdog Colby Armstrong for that gloriously nonsensical description) past Chicago Blackhawks' goalie Corey Crawford, the entire city - perhaps the entire province, rose to their feet and cheered.
Let me explain something about my favourite team, the Vancouver Canucks. Things... don't always work out for them. If you pay any attention to baseball, think the Red Sox, prior to 2004. Or, for a more apropos comparison (especially given the Chicago connection), those lovable Cubbies. If they were an NFL franchise, they'd be the Detroit Lions. If they were a golfer in the early 2000s, they'd be anyone not named Tiger Woods. You get the picture. What I'm trying to say is that things rarely work out in the end.
Being a Canucks' fan, you learn from an early age to expect the worst, then be pleasantly surprised when something actually works out the way you hoped it would. The team has been around for 40 years now and the most enduring memory we have is from two months after Kurt Cobain killed himself - in 1994, they got all the way to seventh game of the Stanley Cup finals... and lost. That's right, our enduring rallying cry - our most revered memory - is of our team losing. Knowing that you can begin to understand a few things about Canucks fans.
Then came this season.
I don't know if it was the alignment of the stars, an abnormal concentration of ozone in the drinking water, an Olympic hangover or just a glorious coincidence, but this year things just started going *right*. From December until February - more than two full MONTHS, the team didn't lose. They had the best record in the entire league (not surprisingly, a franchise first) locked up by the end of March and then they cruised to the finish line, blowing every single franchise record out of the water. Instead of finding more creative and painful ways to lose, the team found ways to win. It was extraordinary. Local media couldn't understand it.
Then, quicker than you could say "Oh $#!#$", thanks to a bizarre comedy of errors on the last day of the regular season, the Canucks' reward for this regular season of excellence was a date with the defending Stanley Cup champion Chicago Blackhawks IN THE VERY FIRST ROUND OF THE PLAYOFFS. The same team that had knocked them out of the playoffs the last two years in the most excruciating and humiliating of fashions. Of course. Now *this* was more like what we have come to expect as Canuck fans.
Shockingly, the Canucks stormed out of the gate and won the first three games of the series. But that's when we were reminded just what it means to be a fan of this team. The Blackhawks stormed the gates and demolished the Canucks in games 4 and 5. Our previously rock-solid defence suddenly had more holes than swiss cheese, our ten million dollar goalie couldn't stop a beach ball and our top-ranked offence was about as threatening as an anemic kitten. Game six was better - perhaps buoyed by sheer embarassment, the Canucks took it to the Blackhawks, creating chance after chance, but they could never pull away. Three unlucky bounces led to the game going to overtime and then as our ten million dollar man flopped around on his stomach like a beached whale, an unheralded Blackhawk rookie named Ben Smith instantly became a curse-word in Vancouver by depositing a rebound into the open net. Comeback complete. The best-of-seven had become a best-of-one, the Canucks' juicy cushion had evaporated and sports media across the continent were poking fun at those hapless, "gutless" (seriously, some dude from the Chicago Tribune called them that.) Canucks from Vancouver.
In other words, it was status quo for us long-time, long-suffering fans.
Game 7. The local media, never ones to eschew hyperbole, called it the franchise's 'biggest game ever'. Regardless if that's really how you feel or not, there was a palpable sense of anxious dread around the city. The Canucks were on the verge of an historic collapse. The sort of epic meltdown that would cause the team to become nothing more than a punchline going forward. Only three teams had managed to squander 3-0 series leads before. None of them had the best record in the league in the year they did it. That's right, the Canucks were primed to be the best team in history to choke away an almost-insurmountable lead. And they were set to do this against their biggest rival in recent history. ... Yup, that's what it's like being a Canucks fan, all right.
As the puck dropped, you could see the Canucks had fire in their eyes and passion in their bellies - they scored the first goal, they hit anything wearing a white sweater and skated like the wind. ... But the Blackhawks hung around. Wave after wave, the Canucks came at them - firing shot after shot, spending what seemed like eternities in the attacking zone. ... But the Blackhawks hung around. Young Corey Crawford, the Hawks' rookie netminder was singlehandedly putting together one of the greatest postseason goaltending performances of all-time. Almost inexplicably, as the seconds ticked away and the clock wound down in the third period, the Canucks still had only one goal. Then, predictably, disaster. Hawks' superstar (and 'Good Canadian Kid', thanks Grapes) Jonathan Toews doggedly scored one of the grittest goals you've ever seen with less than two minutes left in the game. ... while the Hawks were shorthanded. Of course he did.
During the overtime intermission, my stomach decided it couldn't take it anymore and emptied itself into the toilet bowl. I felt a little better - a little weak-kneed, maybe, definitely light-headed, but no longer nauseated. I stumbled back to the couch just in time for the overtime period to begin.
Almost immediately, the Canucks took a penalty. ("Oh God...")
And almost immediately, Jonathan Toews took the puck and skirted down the side boards, almost toying with our defence. ("Oh God...")
And then he slid a perfect pass through the seam. ("Here it comes...")
... Right onto the stick of 34-goal scorer Patrick Sharp, five feet from the net. ("I can't look...")
And then something amazing happened.
Roberto Luongo, our much-maligned, ten-million dollar goaltender, made the save he's paid ten million dollars to make.
Buoyed by Luongo's highway robbery, the Canucks killed off the remainder of the penalty without issue and three minutes after that this happened:
It was all there - the game seemed tailor-made for masochists. The hockey gods were setting up the Canucks to lose in the most cruel and painful way imaginable... Only... the Canucks won. At 10:25 PM PST, that sound you heard wasn't just the entire province of British Columbia cheering as one - that was the sound of the poles reversing, up becoming down, left becoming right and the laws of gravity simply ceasing to exist. That sound was me, jumping up and down in my living room, pumping my fists, hugging my wife, trying my best to blink away tears of joy. That sound was me starting to believe, "Maybe they *can* win this damned thing after all."
Ultimately, the victory over the Blackhawks is just the first step. If the Canucks are truly aiming to bring the wrath of the Four Horsemen upon us (my canned goods are well-stocked, don't worry) and win the championship, they have to win three more rounds (starting tomorrow night against a very disciplined and cult-like Nashville Predators squad). It's a long, winding road, but for one brief moment in April, the sun was shining on the Vancouver Canucks.
Go Canucks Go.
What I'm Playing: Batman: Arkham Asylum (watch for my review of this coming shortly)
What I'm Reading: Batman & Robin vol. 2, Sweet Tooth
Wednesday 27 April 2011
Sunday 17 April 2011
And The Geek Shall Inherit The Earth
Join me for a second as we jump into the Wayback Machine and travel back in time to the early-90s. Millions of teenagers across North America are decked out in flannel and listening as Nirvana changes popular music. Democratic presidential nominee Bill Clinton is rocking out on his saxophone on the Arsenio Hall Show (And, presumably, screwing just about everyone in the green room because, well, that's just how he rolls). Jean Chretien is riding a wild wave of popularity as the country's most liberal Prime Minister since Trudeau. And a young Curtis J. Harding, Esq. is introduced to comic books for the first time.
A ten minute walk from my house there was a comic store called 'Gotham Comics And Games'. I wasn't really that into comics in my pre-adolescent years, but after school one day, a friend of mine asked if I wanted to join him on the way to the comic store - apparently there was this video game there that hadn't yet made it to our local arcade (Something called Street Fighter II - perhaps you've heard of it? Anyway..). With nothing else to do (except homework and, honestly, who the hell wants to do that on a sunny May afternoon?) I graciously accepted the offer.
There seemed an inordinate number of individuals clustered around that arcade cabinet (though my friend would later admit to me, "This is nothing - try coming on a weekend."), so rather than sifting through the mass of humanity waiting my turn to get slaughtered by the local champion, I decided to browse the comics. Sure, I knew of Batman, Spider-Man and the like - and, indeed, I had a few scattered issues strewn about my house that I had picked up through various means, but this was my first time in an actual comic SHOP. I was floored. Rows upon rows of costumed heroes fighting crime (and, of course, more than a few ANTI-heroes exacting their own brand of vengeance/justice/brutality, etc.). I grabbed two Batman comics, a Spider-Man comic and three Punisher comics (Fact: Punisher was my favourite comic book when I was twelve years old. I don't know what that says about me, but there it is) I bade adieu to my friend (who was busy dispatching his seventh successive challenger using with Ryu's shoryuken) and made my way home and spent the whole evening examining my booty. I was taken in by the action, the story and the artwork. I pored over every panel and quicker than you could say 'Shazam!', I was hooked. I soon got my own 'box' at Gotham - every week when the new issues came in, the shop owner would set aside books for me that he knew I would like and I'd come in and pick them up at my convenience. Life was good.
What happened next? Well, soon after Superman 'died' (I still have that issue buried in my treasure trove - I wonder if it's worth money now?), high school started trying to pound the geek out of me. Peer pressure is an hell of a thing. I stopped wearing dorky tee shirts and started endorsing sports teams in a bid to fit in. Obviously it didn't work - once you're 'branded' in high school, that's it. Trying to fight against it is like trying to push the tide back into the ocean. But that didn't stop me from trying. Soon I stopped going to Gotham altogether. Not so long after that, it shuttered its doors for good (pour one for my homies). And that was seemingly it. Comics ceased to be a part of my life for over a decade. It would take one of my favourite films of all-time to re-ignite my passion. When I saw The Dark Knight for the first time, I was absolutely floored. I had read The Killing Joke (Alan Moore - represent!) a dozen times and to see a Joker as deranged, unhinged and manic fully-realized on-screen (sure, Jack Nicholson was all right in the original film, but he was a little too cartoonish. Heath Ledger absolutely *nailed* it. It will go down as one of the most iconic roles in film history - of that, I have no doubt) was like an alarm clock ringing - violently jolting my inner comic-book geek awake from its slumber.
More than that, in many ways it served as a wake-up call for my entire consciousness. I started brandishing geeky tees like they were weapons. I talked openly about video games, comic books, movies - I wasn't afraid to put my passions on display. Now don't get me wrong - as my friends who have only known me in the 21st Century will attest, I was always geeky. But this was like my coming-out party. In a sense, I came to embrace my dorkiness and, more than that, own it. It wasn't a source of embarassment - it was a sense of pride.
These days I don't have my own comic shop - I'll pick up trades and one-shots online, or at different stores around the city. But I haven't stopped looking. I can't help but think it's like buying your first home - one day you just walk in and 'know'.
Incidentally, my doctor's office is now located in the spot where Gotham used to be. The last time I was in there for a check-up, someone had left a tattered, dog-eared Spider-Man comic in the waiting room. The universe is not without a sense of humour, it would seem.
What I'm Reading: Batman & Robin, vol. 1, Marvel Civil War
What I'm Playing: Batman: Arkham Asylum (Late to the party on this one, I know)
A ten minute walk from my house there was a comic store called 'Gotham Comics And Games'. I wasn't really that into comics in my pre-adolescent years, but after school one day, a friend of mine asked if I wanted to join him on the way to the comic store - apparently there was this video game there that hadn't yet made it to our local arcade (Something called Street Fighter II - perhaps you've heard of it? Anyway..). With nothing else to do (except homework and, honestly, who the hell wants to do that on a sunny May afternoon?) I graciously accepted the offer.
There seemed an inordinate number of individuals clustered around that arcade cabinet (though my friend would later admit to me, "This is nothing - try coming on a weekend."), so rather than sifting through the mass of humanity waiting my turn to get slaughtered by the local champion, I decided to browse the comics. Sure, I knew of Batman, Spider-Man and the like - and, indeed, I had a few scattered issues strewn about my house that I had picked up through various means, but this was my first time in an actual comic SHOP. I was floored. Rows upon rows of costumed heroes fighting crime (and, of course, more than a few ANTI-heroes exacting their own brand of vengeance/justice/brutality, etc.). I grabbed two Batman comics, a Spider-Man comic and three Punisher comics (Fact: Punisher was my favourite comic book when I was twelve years old. I don't know what that says about me, but there it is) I bade adieu to my friend (who was busy dispatching his seventh successive challenger using with Ryu's shoryuken) and made my way home and spent the whole evening examining my booty. I was taken in by the action, the story and the artwork. I pored over every panel and quicker than you could say 'Shazam!', I was hooked. I soon got my own 'box' at Gotham - every week when the new issues came in, the shop owner would set aside books for me that he knew I would like and I'd come in and pick them up at my convenience. Life was good.
What happened next? Well, soon after Superman 'died' (I still have that issue buried in my treasure trove - I wonder if it's worth money now?), high school started trying to pound the geek out of me. Peer pressure is an hell of a thing. I stopped wearing dorky tee shirts and started endorsing sports teams in a bid to fit in. Obviously it didn't work - once you're 'branded' in high school, that's it. Trying to fight against it is like trying to push the tide back into the ocean. But that didn't stop me from trying. Soon I stopped going to Gotham altogether. Not so long after that, it shuttered its doors for good (pour one for my homies). And that was seemingly it. Comics ceased to be a part of my life for over a decade. It would take one of my favourite films of all-time to re-ignite my passion. When I saw The Dark Knight for the first time, I was absolutely floored. I had read The Killing Joke (Alan Moore - represent!) a dozen times and to see a Joker as deranged, unhinged and manic fully-realized on-screen (sure, Jack Nicholson was all right in the original film, but he was a little too cartoonish. Heath Ledger absolutely *nailed* it. It will go down as one of the most iconic roles in film history - of that, I have no doubt) was like an alarm clock ringing - violently jolting my inner comic-book geek awake from its slumber.
More than that, in many ways it served as a wake-up call for my entire consciousness. I started brandishing geeky tees like they were weapons. I talked openly about video games, comic books, movies - I wasn't afraid to put my passions on display. Now don't get me wrong - as my friends who have only known me in the 21st Century will attest, I was always geeky. But this was like my coming-out party. In a sense, I came to embrace my dorkiness and, more than that, own it. It wasn't a source of embarassment - it was a sense of pride.
These days I don't have my own comic shop - I'll pick up trades and one-shots online, or at different stores around the city. But I haven't stopped looking. I can't help but think it's like buying your first home - one day you just walk in and 'know'.
Incidentally, my doctor's office is now located in the spot where Gotham used to be. The last time I was in there for a check-up, someone had left a tattered, dog-eared Spider-Man comic in the waiting room. The universe is not without a sense of humour, it would seem.
What I'm Reading: Batman & Robin, vol. 1, Marvel Civil War
What I'm Playing: Batman: Arkham Asylum (Late to the party on this one, I know)
Tuesday 5 April 2011
Hobo With A Shotgun
Hobo With A Shotgun is the most un-Canadian Canadian film I have ever seen in my entire life. Look closely enough and you can see a predominantly Canadian cast (with distinct Maritime accents), hockey skates and even a Tim Horton's cup - but glossing over it all is an R-rated gorefest with more swearing than the South Park movie.
The story of how this film came about is an interesting one, so I'll touch on that briefly - when Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino decided to put together their love letter / homage to '70s B-Movies, Grindhouse together (Brilliant, by the by, if you haven't seen it - grab the full-length Blu-Ray with both films and the trailers... segue!) Robert Rodriguez decided to hold a contest - who can put together the most awesome B-Movie trailer based on an original idea. Lo and behold, the winner was Jason Eisener, a Haligonian who spliced together footage of a homeless man blowing away criminals with a twelve-gauge. Now, some four years after the fact, this trailer became the second fully-realized, feature length film to evolve from the 'fake trailers' of the Rodriguez / Tarantino double-cheesefest (following the similarly-themed and equally awesome Machete).
The story, such as it is, involves... well... a hobo... who rides into a pseudo-futuristic, nihilistic cityscape, witnesses a number of grotesqueries and then decides to "clean up the city - one shell at a time" with a shotgun that he manages to procure (fully loaded for no extra charge!) from a pawn shop.
The obvious comparison here is Machete, and where that film used the idea of illegal immigration as a conduit for an ironic, violent, over-the-top gorefest, this film uses the plight of the destitute... as a conduit for an ironic, violent, over-the-top gorefest. That's right - Hobo With A Shotgun is a movie with a message - and it's about as subtle as a shotgun blast to the face.
As for the film itself, as mentioned, it's extremely violent and contains some scenes that, frankly, had me squirming a little bit. It's also intentionally (and, at times, unintentionally) hilarious and chock-full of gratuitous (and completely impractical) nudity. It's an out-and-out love affair to '70s Exploitation cinema (right down to the 'filmed in Technicolor' title card at the beginning - borrowing a page from Tarantino's own playbook) and it pulls it off in style.
Watch for Gregory Smith (from television's Everwood) playing a nigh-on satanic hellion as one of the Hobo's primary nemeses. I seriously had to do a triple-take to make sure that it was the right kid because if any of you saw his show (and from the tragically-low ratings that it managed in its four season run, probably not many of you did) you would be absolutely blown away. Additionally, Rutger Hauer as the title character brings an air of gravitas to his role - watching his overly-dramatic delivery of some of the more cornball lines is a delight. You can almost see him winking at the camera. Just great stuff all around.
The film gets a little surreal in the final act when it introduces two characters called collectively 'The Plague' (they look like a cross between The Gimp from Pulp Fiction and the player characters in the video game NARC) but it never really runs completely off the rails and the ending is satisfying enough.
Chances are, if you find yourself in a darkened movie theater on a Saturday afternoon with a ticket to see a film called Hobo With A Shotgun, you have at least some idea of what you're getting yourself into - and if that's the case, you'll likely be completely satisfied. It's B-movie goodness at its best (worst?).
Geek Score: 8 out of 10 bacon strips
Note to my American friends - Hobo is apparently available via Video On Demand in some markets as of April 1st - check it out. Additionally, a limited, scaling release is planned for mid-May.
What I'm Playing: Back To The Future: The Game (Episode 2), Fallout: New Vegas
What I'm Reading: Batman: RIP, Marvel Zombies
The story of how this film came about is an interesting one, so I'll touch on that briefly - when Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino decided to put together their love letter / homage to '70s B-Movies, Grindhouse together (Brilliant, by the by, if you haven't seen it - grab the full-length Blu-Ray with both films and the trailers... segue!) Robert Rodriguez decided to hold a contest - who can put together the most awesome B-Movie trailer based on an original idea. Lo and behold, the winner was Jason Eisener, a Haligonian who spliced together footage of a homeless man blowing away criminals with a twelve-gauge. Now, some four years after the fact, this trailer became the second fully-realized, feature length film to evolve from the 'fake trailers' of the Rodriguez / Tarantino double-cheesefest (following the similarly-themed and equally awesome Machete).
The story, such as it is, involves... well... a hobo... who rides into a pseudo-futuristic, nihilistic cityscape, witnesses a number of grotesqueries and then decides to "clean up the city - one shell at a time" with a shotgun that he manages to procure (fully loaded for no extra charge!) from a pawn shop.
The obvious comparison here is Machete, and where that film used the idea of illegal immigration as a conduit for an ironic, violent, over-the-top gorefest, this film uses the plight of the destitute... as a conduit for an ironic, violent, over-the-top gorefest. That's right - Hobo With A Shotgun is a movie with a message - and it's about as subtle as a shotgun blast to the face.
As for the film itself, as mentioned, it's extremely violent and contains some scenes that, frankly, had me squirming a little bit. It's also intentionally (and, at times, unintentionally) hilarious and chock-full of gratuitous (and completely impractical) nudity. It's an out-and-out love affair to '70s Exploitation cinema (right down to the 'filmed in Technicolor' title card at the beginning - borrowing a page from Tarantino's own playbook) and it pulls it off in style.
Watch for Gregory Smith (from television's Everwood) playing a nigh-on satanic hellion as one of the Hobo's primary nemeses. I seriously had to do a triple-take to make sure that it was the right kid because if any of you saw his show (and from the tragically-low ratings that it managed in its four season run, probably not many of you did) you would be absolutely blown away. Additionally, Rutger Hauer as the title character brings an air of gravitas to his role - watching his overly-dramatic delivery of some of the more cornball lines is a delight. You can almost see him winking at the camera. Just great stuff all around.
The film gets a little surreal in the final act when it introduces two characters called collectively 'The Plague' (they look like a cross between The Gimp from Pulp Fiction and the player characters in the video game NARC) but it never really runs completely off the rails and the ending is satisfying enough.
Chances are, if you find yourself in a darkened movie theater on a Saturday afternoon with a ticket to see a film called Hobo With A Shotgun, you have at least some idea of what you're getting yourself into - and if that's the case, you'll likely be completely satisfied. It's B-movie goodness at its best (worst?).
Geek Score: 8 out of 10 bacon strips
Note to my American friends - Hobo is apparently available via Video On Demand in some markets as of April 1st - check it out. Additionally, a limited, scaling release is planned for mid-May.
What I'm Playing: Back To The Future: The Game (Episode 2), Fallout: New Vegas
What I'm Reading: Batman: RIP, Marvel Zombies
Monday 4 April 2011
Back To The Future: The Game
Thanks to a click-thru banner at Penny Arcade, I found out that Telltale Games was offering the first episode of Back to the Future: The Game *absolutely free* this weekend.
I had heard good things, but let's be honest - we've all been burned by licensed properties before. Remember 'Enter The Matrix'? That thing seemed ready-made for awesomeness... yet still it ended up bland and uninspired. That being said, however, Telltale's approach (an adventure game that serves as a 'sequel' of sorts to the trilogy that is now over 25 years old - god, that makes me feel old) gave me high hopes as I started it up the first time.
Maybe it's just overtly nostalgic sentimentality on my part, but they had me completely hooked from the opening credits.
The gameplay is standard, retro-adventure, point-and-click 'hotspot' fare - like it just stepped out of the golden era of adventure gaming (Just for point-of-reference, Full Throttle is my favourite adventure game of all-time). The graphics are decent, but certainly nothing groundbreaking (though to be fair, I was running with the graphical goodies turned down because my iMac is over three years old). The sound is uniformly excellent - from the outstanding voice acting (the fellow voicing Marty has Michael J. Fox's voice inflection mannerisms down to a science and Christopher Lloyd returns to voice the character that gave us '1.21 Gigawatts!!!') to the soundtrack (even Huey Lewis & The News make an appearance!). Where this game *truly* shines, however, is in the story itself. Without giving anything away, I'll say that the writers have crafted a believable and thoroughly enjoyable romp that could just as easily be mistaken as a full-fledged sequel to the original trilogy. In essence, it takes the heart and soul of the Back to the Future trilogy and puts it in a video game (there are *several* little winks and nods to fans of the films throughout the game) so that you actually *feel* like you're right there, in that universe (the first time I set the time coordinates into the DeLorean, I couldn't help grinning like a Cheshire Cat). It's incredibly fun and it made me dust off my old Trilogy boxed set just for the hell of it.
I should warn you, however, that seeing as how the game is in an episodic format, the first 'Episode' is only about 2 to 3 hours long and it ends on a bit of a cliffhanger. But given how great the first episode was, I felt no qualms about going right out and purchasing the remaining episodes.
Telltale has seamlessly resurrected a beloved movie franchise and released the best new adventure game in years. If you are even a passing, casual fan of the films, you owe it to yourself to give it a try. After all, the price is right.
Geek Score: 8 out of 10 bacon strips
I had heard good things, but let's be honest - we've all been burned by licensed properties before. Remember 'Enter The Matrix'? That thing seemed ready-made for awesomeness... yet still it ended up bland and uninspired. That being said, however, Telltale's approach (an adventure game that serves as a 'sequel' of sorts to the trilogy that is now over 25 years old - god, that makes me feel old) gave me high hopes as I started it up the first time.
Maybe it's just overtly nostalgic sentimentality on my part, but they had me completely hooked from the opening credits.
The gameplay is standard, retro-adventure, point-and-click 'hotspot' fare - like it just stepped out of the golden era of adventure gaming (Just for point-of-reference, Full Throttle is my favourite adventure game of all-time). The graphics are decent, but certainly nothing groundbreaking (though to be fair, I was running with the graphical goodies turned down because my iMac is over three years old). The sound is uniformly excellent - from the outstanding voice acting (the fellow voicing Marty has Michael J. Fox's voice inflection mannerisms down to a science and Christopher Lloyd returns to voice the character that gave us '1.21 Gigawatts!!!') to the soundtrack (even Huey Lewis & The News make an appearance!). Where this game *truly* shines, however, is in the story itself. Without giving anything away, I'll say that the writers have crafted a believable and thoroughly enjoyable romp that could just as easily be mistaken as a full-fledged sequel to the original trilogy. In essence, it takes the heart and soul of the Back to the Future trilogy and puts it in a video game (there are *several* little winks and nods to fans of the films throughout the game) so that you actually *feel* like you're right there, in that universe (the first time I set the time coordinates into the DeLorean, I couldn't help grinning like a Cheshire Cat). It's incredibly fun and it made me dust off my old Trilogy boxed set just for the hell of it.
I should warn you, however, that seeing as how the game is in an episodic format, the first 'Episode' is only about 2 to 3 hours long and it ends on a bit of a cliffhanger. But given how great the first episode was, I felt no qualms about going right out and purchasing the remaining episodes.
Telltale has seamlessly resurrected a beloved movie franchise and released the best new adventure game in years. If you are even a passing, casual fan of the films, you owe it to yourself to give it a try. After all, the price is right.
Geek Score: 8 out of 10 bacon strips
Sunday 3 April 2011
Dispensing With Formalities
Greetings, Internets. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm DonRocko - Don_Rocko on 'The Twitters' (tm) - but my friends call me Curtis. I am a 30-something geek from Vancouver, British Columbia. Like most people who would identify as 'geeks', I have certain... passions: Writing being one. Also zombies. Video games. Comic books. Movies. Television. Oh, and cheese. Specifically gouda (delicious!).
Like all great blogs (or so I assume, anyway), this one was started mainly to stop my wife's incessant nagging - "Why don't you have a blog? You enjoy reviewing things and you have all these opinions - why don't you put them out there?"
The correct answer *should* have been, "Because of the age-old adage - opinions are like assholes, etc. etc...." and I would have left it at that.
But, frankly, my wife is much smarter than I am - and using some combination of voodoo and mind control serum, before I even realized what had happened, she convinced me to navigate to blogspot. And the rest, as they say, is history.
The simple truth of the matter, though, is that I have these passions, and I really, *really* enjoy sharing these passions with people. So in that regard, this makes perfect sense.
What you *won't* see is an open diary of my life - trust me, *nobody* would want to read that (This morning I woke up, had some cereal, then laid around in sweatpants watching baseball and eating Fritos - see what I mean?)
I plan on reviewing movies, video games, television series, comic books - basically whatever strikes my fancy on a given night. So, without further adieu... cry havoc! And let slip the dogs of war!
Like all great blogs (or so I assume, anyway), this one was started mainly to stop my wife's incessant nagging - "Why don't you have a blog? You enjoy reviewing things and you have all these opinions - why don't you put them out there?"
The correct answer *should* have been, "Because of the age-old adage - opinions are like assholes, etc. etc...." and I would have left it at that.
But, frankly, my wife is much smarter than I am - and using some combination of voodoo and mind control serum, before I even realized what had happened, she convinced me to navigate to blogspot. And the rest, as they say, is history.
The simple truth of the matter, though, is that I have these passions, and I really, *really* enjoy sharing these passions with people. So in that regard, this makes perfect sense.
What you *won't* see is an open diary of my life - trust me, *nobody* would want to read that (This morning I woke up, had some cereal, then laid around in sweatpants watching baseball and eating Fritos - see what I mean?)
I plan on reviewing movies, video games, television series, comic books - basically whatever strikes my fancy on a given night. So, without further adieu... cry havoc! And let slip the dogs of war!
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