When digesting recent events, it may help you to know that there are men and women for whom my epic works of fantasy serve as a kind of guide for living. One of the more potent manifestations is the furnie lifestyle, based as it is on furniliars - the ambulatory furniture which serves an Elemenstor. References to evil nightstands or King Ronard, The First Magic Sword King may also help you derive this installment's hidden nutrients.
There is a story about L. H. that circulates in writing circles, I hope you will indulge me the telling:
Posting photographs anonymously to HilariousInjuries.com, an EMT wrote that a "prominent author" had been admitted to his ward with no apparent physical abnormalities. A sweatshirt ravaged by years of harsh detergents covered a pronounced ventral "hump," and the writer in question appeared to be carrying its contents with a facial expression somewhere between an "erotic plateau" and "several hours of crucifixion." Despite frenzied protest, doctors cut away the garment to reveal an antique typewriter, his engorged member inserted in one end, and emerging from the other as a kind of Fruit Roll-Up "the color of pain."
I think we have nearly expunged this horrid and detestable Franzibilia. Injuries sustained in the second-to-last panel made it necessary to extend the storyline until Monday, at which point our Song Of The Sorcelator quintad will be complete.
There are those in this office (Gabe) who believe that Rockstar's Table Tennis represents the best multiplayer offering on the 360, and while I have my own favorites - mostly from Live Arcade - there is a cogent argument to be made for this odd creature.
The game has the same usage pattern as a fighter does, in my opinion, and this may help you know if your forty dollars will be a good investment. What I mean by that is that the single player doesn't represent a terrific amount of content, and by its lonesome doesn't represent a real value proposition - you play it so that you can amass new unlocks for multiplayer, which we might describe as "the main course." So if you don't see yourself playing it online, with friends, or with friends online, then just like a Tekken or a Virtua Fighter it's probably going to sit there on the shelf, spine out, looking forlorn.
The fighter model we're using to describe it holds for the gameplay, as well - a tranquil accessibility floating over boiling precision warfare. No less than four times over the course of our playing the Guilty Gear series did we realize that we had been playing it entirely wrong, that there was a game of greater subtlety beneath the grotesque and demonstrative exhibitions. You'll find the same richness in the gameplay progression here, provided (as I said before) you're in a position to get the most out of it.
I called EB Games to see if they had the new HOMM - a series Brenna calls "Pretty, Pretty Ponies," on account of all the beautiful ponies - and the helpful attendant informed me that they had (get this!) "pre-sold out." Pre-sold out. Sold out in the past? Sold out before it came in? What the fuck kind of statement is this? It's the sort of nonsense language you wash down with a dose of oily Victory Gin.