Doki Doki Majo Saiban is a game for the Nintendo DS where the player - as a concerned citizen, presumably - must closely examine potential witches at your school. This analysis is performed with the stylus. We have produced a comic on the subject, in effect purging it from the mind, making a pure life possible.
The forums for the new Bethesda interpretation of Fallout are now open, and the sound is like a hundred thousand bats shrieking as they swirl around a jutting spire of obsidian. When I speak with fervor on topics that interest me, do I sound like them? It makes a strong case for a monastic existence.
Acting as their own publisher, Bethesda has the power to do what Denis Dyack has (perhaps correctly) suggested is the optimal scenario: withhold materials from a game until a developer can show it on their terms. In practice, it has been like shaking a soda bottle continuously for more than a year, so that when an opportunity to relieve the pressure was presented the result is volatile.
The history of Fallout as a franchise has all the trappings of a spiritual epic, replete with false messiahs and long persecution. Those who still hew to this strange religion are quick to call out Bethesda's many crimes, but they have no idea what Bethesda intends to do with Fallout. No-one does. The forums must have gone up for a reason, let us hope we will soon have genuine facts to discuss.
You might have felt the earth itself buckle and sway Thursday evening, felt it lurch as our defeat by Amaze Entertainment was entered into the Great Book. They won seven matches to our one, with only Robert Khoo left standing. Thus proceeds our ping pong Circus of Shame throughout the game industry.
We certainly hoped for better. Earlier in the day we sharpened our steel on a succession of Nerdcore Rappers, making deep gouges in the fledgling genre. Wheelie Cyberman and his Optimus entourage, even the supposedly legendary MC Frontalot was sundered. We even took time out to defeat MC Lars, a man with whom we have no particular grievance. He was merely caught within the area of effect.
Let it be known: four of their team's seven members are missing, and one insane. Of the remainder, one can no longer speak. The last is still at the table, his mind a ruin, shielding his face against a torrent of spectral balls that will not stop. Such is the destiny of those who raise weapons against our house - doom, in accordance with whispered prophecy. Dark words, yes, but also dark fates! Dark blades and dark nights without end for the foes of Arcadia!
(CW)TB out.
As Tycho mentioned we lost another match this time to Amaze. We’ll have pictures soon and I’ll have proof of the story I’m about to tell you. Until I can show you you’ll just need to trust me. This is all 100% true.
When we arrived we were lead downstairs into a giant cement floored warehouse. Two tables were set up in the center of the massive space. As I rounded the corner into the room I saw probably fifty or so spectators holding up signs with sayings like “EAT OUR BALLS!”. I did not however see their team. Just as I began to wonder where they were the music kicked in.
A door on the far side of the warehouse opened up and a team of men in white polo shirts emerged. The one in front was pushing a hand truck. Chained to the hand truck was a huge man with his hands bound and a black bag over his head. He was screaming and fighting to break his restraints. They wheeled him up to the table and began to undo the rope around his wrists. Once his hands were free he howled like an animal and tore the bag off his head. He stopped for a second as if stunned by the sudden light. They placed a paddle in his hand and he stared at it like a murderer who had just been released from prison and handed a gun. Then he leapt off the hand truck and proceeded to run around the room shaking his paddle above his head and screaming at the top of his lungs.
I turned to an Amaze employee standing next to me. “Just out of curiosity, what number is that guy?” I asked. “That’s Gabe, he’s our number two. What are you?”
I didn’t hear the question at the end.
“I said what number are you?” he repeated.
I stared at the wild man my mouth suddenly dry. “Two.” I said.
“I’m number two.”
-Gabe out
In case you thought I was exaggerating in my earlier post here’s some proof. These were taken by Amaze. Kiko should have his photos from the event on his Flickr pretty soon.
So here we are arriving in our brand new “Team Inferno” uniforms.
And here’s what we were greeted with.
-Gabe out
