Category: NERDING DAY

Nerding Day: The Book of Vile Darkness 🌭

Post author By Dennard Dayle
Post date 01/16/2024
7 Comments on Nerding Day: The Book of Vile Darkness 🌭

Do you ever feel…Evil?

I don’t, doubling the odds that I am. Thankfully, Book of Vile Darkness helped me imagine a world in which me, my empire, or anything we funded could be called Evil. A stretch, but I’m into high concepts.

The concept’s simple: take D&D beyond the tame playpen of PG evil, into the lawless playground of PG-13 Evil. And miss. Book of Vile Darkness sold a dull edgefest, and delivered a fun guide to playing Snidely Whiplash. Seasoned with a few flakes of vintage edge.

Along with Hell’s phone book. That’s one of nine versions of Satan. If you want stats for a fiddle duel with the devil, you’re home.

The promo milked “mature.”

Familiar.

Whoever pitched RIAA labels for spreadsheets is a brand genius. I hope they survived the Hasbro purge. More people bought this than the book that fixed grappling. You know, the first thing that happens in real and fake fights. Gamers avoided it just to get home before sunrise.

How mature?

See why we’re here a week later?

Stay calm and/or zip up: this isn’t another Book of Erotic Fantasy. For one, Wizards put their logo on it. And there’s nary a testicle curse, testicle monster, or normal testicle to be found. Instead, there’s Evil.

Too much Evil for players.

Good luck. Your friends either have their own adult money, an active rebellious phase, or preteen gamer social skills. They’re reading the book. A player gave me my copy. As for non-DMs reading this sentence, shame on you. What kind of ungood person does that?

Still, this one’s explicitly for DMs, so no game balance soliloquies today. You either tweak numbers on the fly or suck. It’s funny the first time that Jack drowns in a ditch ten minutes into the story. The third time, your friends switch to the latest Baldur’s Gate. Even the Diablo clones.

Especially the Diablo clones. I punched a lot of rats.

But what is Evil?

I was kidding.

D&D ethics start at “don’t be a skeleton” and end with “avoid plotless murders.” I love it like bone marrow, but deep isn’t the first or fortieth word I’d use. You won’t settle Philosophy 101’s annual fistfight.

I’ve called people lazy for two years, but you can aim lower. All a dice book needs to break even is a new class and art by a human. Even a dying toy conglomerate can’t burn that money tree. Well, quickly.

Alright, we’re swinging for the fences. I hope you didn’t expect more dick spells, today we’re learning why US churches fund Ugandan hate crimes. Wait, I forgot our in-joke quota. Why Red Wizards fund Underdark Elf-Hunts. Happy?

I didn’t expect Arthurian Ethics before the talking skulls, but I’m always down to learn or get dumber. Let’s build a red lightsaber.

Consider who? Is Zophas an invention or a reference? Is this what I sound like?

Flawless defense: clowns compare you to math homework, and you bring in a second genre of homework. A harder one, if you have a demagnetized moral compass or no idea what a paladin is.

I’ll get a pencil.

How’d I do?

Crud. It’s Classics all over again. What’s next?

Ha! Can’t fool me twice.

Nice. Back on the moral honor roll.

Shit. It’s salsa class all over again. I can fix this.

What the fuck? I came to mock thrash metal mascots, not get kicked off Gondor’s ballot. If this book calls me Evil one more time, the world will pay.

There, moral dynamite. How long is Athenian trivia night? Can I do Teamworking Day with Aristophanes?

Bang. I’m even better at this than marriage fraud. Ethics and USCIS can eat crow. I assume my shadow diploma’s en route. Or do I steal it?

Either way, I’m getting a few mixed messages. Evil in D&D’s an object. You can throw it like a dodgeball. Or have an allergic reaction. You can fill a ladle with Evil, taste it, add salt, and put the neighbors back in your gingerbread oven. That doesn’t square with relativism’s Wikipedia page. I’m missing something.

Maybe I need a little more guidance. Could we get away from Zophas and the world’s unluckiest river valley? Some general principles? Applied Evil, even?

Now we’re fracking. What actions fit a well-oiled mustache? I’m ready for Shell’s orientation pamphlet. Bathe me in darkness.

As Killer Mike foretold! Thank you, king below. Though lying’s a little old-fashioned. Our masters sin loudly and proudly, facing the hard cam.

The other Evil acts ring true. So true, they seem obvious.

Really obvious.

Are we riding the short gargoyle? I’m insulted: I learned to bring despair in freshman year. They don’t let you into Princeton without a referral from your nemesis in blood. The reunion is a drinking contest with the Luthors.

Spells! Right! This is a game. I’m talking about a game.

There’s a lovely centrist flavor to “hell magic is okay in moderation.” Imagine a Baptist parent skimming that. I don’t have to, because mine found this and landed there. I braced for Satanic panic, and she called me a nerd. An early tone setter.

As for gameplay, hell magic whips.

An amateur kills the Turtles. A master puts them on the Freedom Caucus.

The kicker? This lasts three hours, tops. You sober up halfway through the orphanage. Evil is a status effect like Tired or Confused. Tell a doctor you’re Evil, and he’ll send you home with Advil and a campaign donation.

I see why players treated the ban like a disclaimer in a game they’ve paid for multiple times. Though using it does dilute the fun. You spend 18 levels waiting for Eternity of Torture.

An election year, forever.

That’s a unity candidate for clowns, edgelords, and people looking for a “win” button. And a marshmallow test. You could wait for something important. Or unload on the first canvasser to wake you up. That feels extreme in January, but it’ll be my best joke by November.

The opening effort to define Evil’s admirable, especially if this is the longest book you’ve read. I wish sophomoric were less loaded, it ruins a helpful word. I finally get why middle school felt like filler: there’s a space that’s too obvious for adults and too grim for children. We’ll settle for “hilarious.” There’s nothing like lecturing to someone that gets relativism but can’t spell it yet.

If that’s all, I’ll call myself an Evil PhD. We’ll move on to the world’s strongest non–

No thanks.

I’m allergic.

Just a little.

When you’re done laughing at the name, laugh at devilweed making you stronger. Hell Pot’s better for you than normal weed. Elven gyms smell like human dorms.

Quality gateway. Is there magic meth?

Of course, these are professionals. It’s magic meth and heroin. That efficiency distracted countless nerds from drugs.

We’re clocking in at 0.3 McGruffs. Low for a chapter between torture devices and the alphabetical list of demons, but real D.A.R.E. flavor needs that Nancy R disdain. Book of Vile Darkness assumes less cosmic Evil at work.

The encyclopedia half of Book of Vile Darkness delivers. It gets drier than C-Span, so we’re skimming it, but I can’t bury this book. Call it proportionate response, two words missing in the textbook of Evil.

I’m glad we never achieved maturity. Maturity is all taxes, traffic, and trauma. Pray for traffic.

We’re nice and warmed up. What’s the most Evil thing here?

Odd. I thought Dice Satan would dig this. Still, following instructions isn’t very Evil, and he lies by default. On to the ultimate Evil.

Here’s Dice Satan’s main rival: Shittier Satan. No need for Fire Sale Lucifer to stop the party, he’s second most Evil at best. If dad taught me anything, Evil kneels to no man or court order. Forward.

Pfft. Memory is for losers and human rights nerds.

It’s probably a Skeletor. The tone so far’s oscillated between 1983 Skeletor, Extreme 2003 Skeletor, and Mock-profound 2022 Skeletor. What’s the Book of Vile Darkness version? Bowler Hat Skeletor?

That doesn’t seem right.

I mean, it’s clearly a Skeletor. But this drawing’s very FBI-friendly. He is, at best, Evangelical Puppeteer Skeletor.

Ah, shit. I remember this.

Book of Vile Darkness comes with a handful of sample villains. Including the primordial scoutmaster. The SVU World Champion. Meet the world’s strongest child predator.

“Nice try, fucko,” says Ulysses Strawmann. “This is a publicly traded company, purchased by a larger, shittier publicly traded company. They wouldn’t add Catholic Sauron halfway through Evil Con Carne. Take your stupid pranks back to jail.”

“Oh god, it’s the family curse,” cries Ulysses Strawmann. “Is this why newspapers quote me? I thought people respected my voice. That I mattered, and lived in a world without unkillable amber alerts.”

The rest of the book dances on a balance beam. Here, we fall off the edge. Slipping right past Behemoth, into Burzum. Past Goldust, into Seven. Past good Garth Ennis, into bad Garth Ennis.

Obviously, there’s more Dread Emperor content. Once you’ve buried this memory, he pops up in the Cool Talking Swords chapter. His wardrobe hides bonus DreadFacts for attentive readers:

In case your brain’s protecting you: trying to save the kids explodes them. Also: he’s a max-level wizard. Also: his belt turns kids into explosions. Also: he has a space fortress full of reloads/more kids. Also: find a new DM.

Doing the obvious doesn’t go well:

Presumably, your group either dies, ignores this like a Pope, or embarks on a long, awkward quest to find the fabled Wand of Child Services.

In the face of such power, there’s only one option.

Well, a few. You can switch games, switch friends, or try devilweed. If all else fails, see what’s up outside.

I’d cut the Dread Emperor. But I also expect a book this amusing to fall off the balance beam at least once. Book of Vile Darkness is a fond memory, and has the Dread Emperor. Luke Skywalker’s my childhood hero, and courted his sister. It’s a weird planet.

What else would I change? Nothing. At all. Goofball shit like Book of Vile Darkness keeps me from having a heart attack. It’d be a shame to fire almost everyone involved to puff up quarterly reports. Evil, even.

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Leesa, who ROAMS the BLASTED LAND with four CUTE DOGS attached to her by CRUEL LEASHES in a SAVAGE RITUAL she calls WALKIES.

Tags best of 2024, Board games, books, Free, games, toys

NERDING DAY

Nerding Day: MilkTV 🌭

I think 2024 will finally be the year we bring back the brand mascots with deep and terrible lore. We finished off 2023 with a public Pop-Tart sacrifice. We learned the names of all the Charmin bears AND Duke’s Mayonnaise gave us more biographical info about their new mascot Tubby. His favorite food? Duke’s Mayonnaise! He’s a mayonnaise vampire, sustained by his own lifeblood, and he looks like it.

Watching advertisers scramble to understand and advertise to Gen Z is my favorite. They’re beefing it, guys. They’re beefing it harder than that polar bear mascot with the big floppy shoes that keeps falling at an ice skating rink. You think, eventually, it will stop being funny and get sad, but it never does. You can try at home:

My favorite slow, sad rollout of new mascots with detailed backstories meant to appeal to Gen Z comes from a little company called the concept of Milk. They had one good advertising campaign in the late ’80s that got really weird and threatening by the late 90s.

Milk has decided to rebrand itself as a sports drink. They’re sponsoring marathons and doing serious black-and-white ad campaigns where athletic-looking Instagram models chug a half gallon of milk in their fancy yoga clothes. For some reason, at the same time, milk tentatively introduced roughly 4-5 new mascots with detailed personal lives we can reconstruct across their social media channels. A fun fact about these mascots is that milk is clearly embarrassed by them.

What? You’ve never heard of Bo, Jerri, Meelo, and Luke, the milk gang? That’s nuts. They were introduced in early 2022; I think mainly as some cool little guys milk can duet TikTok dances and challenges with. Let’s take a look at their super modern personalities and how milk has tweaked them over the last year to make them appeal to youths even more.

Bo is a female bottle of milk with a huge ass (yes, milk has a gender, and also an ass). This is a still from the cake challenge, where a human hand rolls a weight across the ground, and Bo has to stop it with her ass. Then she claps her prehensile ass cheeks together in joy, and they make the sound of two glasses toasting. It’s to prove that the milk bottle is caked up or has that cake and cake is a butt, as the kids today say.

Bo is so much more than ass, though; according to her introduction on Milk’s Instagram, she’s an activist and a tennis pro. It doesn’t specify what type of activist. Maybe don’t ask Bo where she was on January 6, 2021, though. I’ve got a bad feeling about the answer.

Luke is the Mickey Mouse of the MCU (Milk Cinematic Universe). He’s an aspiring DJ with absolutely no other personality traits. Milk made both Luke and Bo mascot costumes, which they sometimes force interns to run marathons in. The Bo one is both concerning and mysterious. Out of context, it could be any white obelisk, so they use the Luke costume way more often as he is identifiably Milk. Imagine the Bo costume chasing you on mile twenty of a marathon. You can’t. Your brain has safety mechanisms in place to prevent thoughts like that from fully forming.

Jeri is more of a background character. She’s sort of the Grimace of the MCU. She has no job, and all we know about her is she “loves to help people recover and level up.” Recover from what? I’m not sure. Is…is that a threat, Jeri? Why did milk feel like they needed this many mascots? I think they wanted a boy and girl milk of each color for some reason, but they ran out of jobs Zoomers think are cool after Aspiring DJ and Activist. She could have been a crypto expert, an MLM girly, a marijuana entrepreneur, a nepo baby, a van lifer, a crystal seller, or a certified breakdance shaman, but Milk didn’t want to put more than one second of thought into Jeri.

And finally, from the original four, there’s Meelo. Meelo has undergone the most changes since his original introduction in that he’s frigging ripped now and canonically has at least one, sometimes two, nipple piercings. You would think piercing a bottle of milk would be a problem, but apparently, his plastic flesh can heal around the piercing. Ew! A TikTok of Meelo flexing and inexplicably rolling his nipples in circles is one of Milk’s most popular, with 91K views and 171 comments. However, most of the comments are things like, “I wish I was lactose intolerant.”

Initially, milk thought they wanted Meelo to be the baby milk, and then they went so far in the opposite direction. They recently released a jingle on YouTube with the hook of “milk helps you get jacked,” where they did a pixelated Meelo as Mr. Universe roided out and ready to smash other beverages to a pulp with his bare fists. This milk bottle fucks with his boy milk genitals.

You might notice that earlier in the article, I said Milk introduced 4-5 new mascots. That’s because although there are 4 main mascots, sometimes they throw in others, like the strawberry milk, who squeezes her body until milk comes out of her straw, and then she drinks herself and squeezes again. At first, she seems to enjoy it, but toward the end of the video, the body horror of the process appears to hit her.

This is part of a jingle with the hook of “milk hydrates better than water.” I think maybe she’s supposed to be stranded on a tropical island and drinking her own head piss? Weirdly it doesn’t make me thirsty for milk at all, or piss. I just feel sorry for this nameless milk and want to get her help.

I think part of the reason Milk hasn’t taken the plunge and put these horrifying little guys front and center in their ad campaigns is that they were supposed to be part of a project called MilkTV that would feature YouTube videos and shorts around the characters. However, MilkTV is already the name of a Belgian art-punk band that comes up first when you Google MilkTV, which I don’t think the concept of milk is wild about being associated with. They might do something crazier than create the forever piss milk mascot.

MilkTV makes a lot of music videos, so I think it’s supposed to be a play on MTV, but by the time Zoomers were growing up, MTV was most famous for reality TV shows like Teen Mom and Catfish. They’re going to expect one of those milks to get pregnant or lure another milk into a relationship with a false identity, and who knows, that might happen eventually. I bet the TikTok crowd would love a Meelo and Bo pregnancy storyline. A half-pervert/half-obelisk baby could be the Gen Z Randy Quaid.

I can’t stress enough how much Milk advertising is mostly not this. It’s only when they dip into trying to relate to a younger audience where they totally fumble and get super weird about their mascot’s enormous ass. Did I mention there’s a Meelo butt ad as well?

Milk is at war with itself. They sort of want to do sleek, cool Nike ads, with athletes chugging chocolate milk to recover from a workout, and they also want to have four mascots with backstories who fuck. You would think they couldn’t have it both ways, but somehow they just are. They show up at marathons with Luke and Bo and say, “Guess what, everyone, these monsters named after a 45 year-old-show are going to chase you. Luke is an aspiring DJ. No, not a DJ, just a carton of milk that hopes to be a DJ someday. He’ll probably fail, anyway, run!” And everyone just accepts it.

Apparently, brands can get away with anything nowadays, and I think they should embrace that more. Let’s get weird, 2024! Pierce more mascots! Give them middle and last names. I want to buy an energy drink from a giant can named Timothy Carolton Gringle, whose job is accounting. He just happens to be an energy drink. I want to learn more about existing mascots. Tell me Tony The Tiger’s hopes and dreams! I bet they’re both hunks! Tell me the Trix Rabbit is uncircumcised. No, I didn’t ask; tell me anyway. There’s so much potential for mascot chaos this year.

This article was brought to by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Neil Bailey, who is a new type of snack cake with anxiety.

Tags commercials, Free, products, tv

NERDING DAY

Best of 2023 – Robert Brockway

Post author By 1900HOTDOG
Post date 12/28/2023
2 Comments on Best of 2023 – Robert Brockway

2023 has not been kind to Brockway, and Brockway, in turn, has not been kind to 2023. He has taken revenge for his crumbling body with online guides that teach you how to develop a mental illness, video game molesting news anchors, and the entire life and works of Craig Stormon, comic book berserker.

Learning Day: WikiHow to Live Like a Vulcan

If you hate emotion, secretly believe that all humans should operate purely on cold logic like meat computers, and think you might be from space – have we got an article for you! It’s about contacting a mental health professional. It’s not this one, don’t read this one.

Nerding Day: The Mortal Kombat Live Tour Promo

The 1990s thought everything needed a stage show for children, and Mortal Kombat was no exception. Even though it really should have been. Let’s all remember the time Mortal Kombat Live performers had to do local news segments to promote it and got molested by an out of control news strangler.

Nerding Day: Cursed Worlds

Craig Stormon ran a comic book imprint called Blue Comet Press, and Brockway is its most passionate and only fan. Cursed Worlds is the Source Book for the entire Blue Comet universe, by which we mean it’s a deranged, seemingly random collection of poorly illustrated pages bookended by unhinged editorials about the many betrayals of Craig Stormon.

Fucking Day: Running Delilah

Hey, remember the time Billy Zane fucked a RoboCop so hard it exploded a building, killing several caught in the shrapnel blast? It’s absurd that you don’t. It should be a moment celebrated by our culture for all time, like the Moon Landing. Come learn about important American history, you philistine.

Nerding Day: German Disco Christmas Star Wars

Look at that title. That’s self explanatory. You know what this is. You love it. You should have only one question: Does Yoda breakdance in this? The answer is yes. Yes! YES!!

With some caveats.

Tags best of 2023, Brockway, Free

NERDING DAY

Best of 2023: Merritt K

Merritt joined our crew in 2023, and instantly became our expert on 1990s forgotten absurdity. We have several experts on 1990s forgotten absurdity. We’re still hiring more. There will always be a need. But if you’re thinking of writing smart, thoroughly researched hilarity on children’s tie-in toys from 1993, you are going to have to knife fight Merritt. Fair warning: She always brings a gun.

Nerding Day: RIFTS

Obviously RIFTS. Of course, RIFTS. It’s unthinkable we hadn’t covered RIFTS until this article, but here’s the thing – it’s been pitched and approved several times and every single other author was too much of a coward to do it. Until Merritt! She alone was willing to read 8.7 million tables about how glitter damage applies to mecha-ponies.

Nerding Day: Skeleton Warriors

Remember Skeleton Warriors? No, you don’t. Get out of here, liar. Only Merritt remembers Skeleton Warriors, and she does it so you don’t have to. Best of all we got through this entire blurb without mentioning the sex crime stuff- aw, god dammit.

Nerding Day: Superhuman Samurai Syber Squad

The 1990s were the decade we tried everything in any direction to repeat the success of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. At some point we thought the kids might’ve loved TMNT because the title was adjective-Japanese-adjective-team. Then we decided the secret must be Tim Curry. Kids love Tim Curry, said the studio behind Superhuman Samurai Syber Squad. The kids did not agree.

Nerding Day: Sky Dancers and Dragon Flyz

See, Sky Dancers, they’re always at the mall. Am I right, Sky Dancers? Always at the mall, all talking about your sex life like “Dreadwing couldn’t get it up last night.” That’s too much information, Sky Dancers! Where like, we Dragon Flyz? Haha – us Dragon Flyz will sit down together and watch four hours of Dragon Footballz without saying a word. These are but a few of the comical differences between Sky Dancers and Dragon Flyz, the exact same toy arbitrarily separated by gender. Am I right, folks?!

Punching Day: Diesel

In the late 1990s, Diesel thought the North American Market was ready for the manga JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. But you’d have to take out all the colorful characters, ridiculous poses, band names, and gayness. We were left with Diesel, which is to say we were left with nothing.

Tags best of 2023, Free, Merritt K

NERDING DAY

Nerding Day: A Big Bad BeetleBorgs Christmas 🌭

Post author By Dennard Dayle
Post date 12/12/2023
3 Comments on Nerding Day: A Big Bad BeetleBorgs Christmas 🌭

Do you reuse bags? Separate your plastics? Slay dinner with your naked hands? Saban Entertainment did better. They reused superhero footage to make carbon neutral television. You can start recycling like Big Bad Beetleborgs, or learn to breathe methane.

Comedy Rangers are the future.

Well, probably not. Subtitles make some money now, and full remakes prevent investor panic attacks. VR TRoopers ran longer, making this the Jannetty of Saban cash-ins. But the Beetleborgs were outside the box. Of sanity.

Why’s Big Bad Beetleborgs my go-to fake topic? It’s one of the first shows I knew was weird, and only half by design. Saban warped their own wonky production model, during an odd decade, in the Saturday morning weirdness-generator. Understanding an episode should grant you US citizenship.

It moved enough toys for 88 episodes, until they ran out of remix footage. Sixteen more than Breaking Bad. At one monster per week, three kids tied Beatrix Kiddo’s kill count. Only she let that one teen go, and the Beetleborgs always got their scalps.

Playgrounds and sports bars love a good fandom scuffle. In this, the Dayles are losers. We chose the Mets, Digimon, Democrats, and Beetleborgs. I don’t know why. We moved into a pale suburb and said “this needs conflict.” The creators played both sides: Big Bad Beetleborgs looks like a Power Rangers bite because it’s another Saban/Toei crossover.

With a little extra.

Competing with yourself is the American dream, so this is the most patriotic media I’ve covered. Like many immigrants, founder/producer Haim Saban understood America’s soul. Specifically, that we need action figures to live, rarely retain details, and should do something about that Zerg Rush on Congress. That’s not a gag, he made headlines suggesting Trump-brand prison cigarettes.

That’s a little off from the other snapshots, isn’t it? Get used to that. It’s even weirder when Saban splurges on a suit:

As always, wikis cover this in more detail than the Cold War. Saban Entertainment went wide, not deep. They’re behind a few famous quarter-assed anime dubs, preempting the 4kids! model of leaving money on the table. Along with films like American Expose: Who Murdered JFK?, which I’ll bookmark for later. They also distributed Marvel shows before that money acorn grew into a proud redwood.

Surprisingly, the company started out in music. While remixing tokusatsu footage for a living is my dream, Haim had bills to pay. Naturally, Disney bought them out too, along with dreams and vowels. It sounds grim, but News Corp owned Saban while Big Bad Beetleborgs ran. The mouse was progress. Progress-ish.

But I’ve skipped something important. A basic, elemental question.

Okay, straight talk: Big Bad Beetleborgs was a kids’ action-comedy, mixing new footage with fight scenes from the tokusatsu show Metal Heroes. Metal Heroes prints money in Japan, and didn’t need another trait to inspire Saban.

Emphasis on comedy. Big Bad Beetleborgs flips the Power Rangers kick-to-schtick ratio. Our leads can’t multiply without a chart, and the nanny state won’t let them do stunts. The results almost make sense. And devote hours to a martial-arts grandma.

Actually, before I spam screenshots, let’s hit the opening theme. It’s among the most efficient summaries in a very competitive field. Not quite “robots in disguise,” but in the winner’s circle. Just a step ahead of “Holy shit, our turtle Daredevil parody prints money. We’ll never know hunger again.”

That’s the laconic cut, for executive children. Kids that knew Dad’s pin number backwards. Here’s the full version, for slow consumers:

Melody? Disastrous. Rhythm? A non-effort. Exposition? Slam dunk. You know the Beetleborgs now. Every word from here exists for punchlines. I skipped the chorus, which is just the show’s name on loop, and stuck in my head like a fucking tumor. Half my thoughts since Halloween have been “Big Bad Beetleborgs” crooned through a Fear Factory vocal filter. I’ve lost my fucking mind.

Seriously, this vocoder nightmare’s owned my brain for a month. I might drill it out.

Per the lyrics, our heroes are three comic shop slaves. Laws frown on kids in mines and payment in Spawn reissues. Then again, given what indoor children spend at comic shops, they might outearn hedge fund analysts.

The Beetleborgs are an in-universe cape comic, until the kids blow a free wish on cosplay. I’m not here to judge your dreams, but skipping immortality, world peace, or the stock genie loophole is a historic failure.

Though that’s a personal bugbear. I think every genie plot should turn into one of the weirder Dune books. This frame’s a fine junior power fantasy. Odd that it crashes into two other shows.

Our Waste-A-Wish winners? There’s Roland Williams, in charge of the best helmet and the color green. His Dad owns the comic shop, making him the rare Anime Club nepo-baby. Roland’s Metal Heroes double has a slightly different tone.

I know people like a good tokenism riff, but there are only three slots here. “Sibling” would drop backstory weight onto a premise with a bird’s spine. Let the kid’s show live.

Then there’s Jo, guardian of attitude and the color red. She alternates between throwing things and heaping abuse on her brother, so she’s got the younger sibling role down.

And Andrew. He’s…blue. The others listen to him.

In fact, it’s Andrew’s idea to explore the haunted house, where they find what the fuck is that?

Why the fuck is that?!

I get it. This is my fault. I insulted God twelve too many times. Now we have this…organism? Demon? Sin? The show calls it a “phasm,” and that doesn’t help or come back.

According to the Malleus Maleficarum, this is Flabber. It’s the Beetleborg’s all-in-one mentor, Greek chorus, personal genie, and abomination. Think Zordon on dust at a Volbeat concert. Actually, don’t. That’s an insane fucking thing to think. Why would you do that? There’s a whole world out there.

Flabber rules Hillhurst Mansion, the costume shop staff within, the Kings gang of Elvis impersonators, and reality. It also freed the main villain, making Flabber responsible for every casualty and improv sketch. There are a lot of them.

A lot.

It’s all the show’s really interested in.

The creature’s right. Enough table-setting. Let’s get back to December’s heart: maximizing Q4 sales. I wish the punchline was “or layoffs.” But it’s “And layoffs.”

You don’t need both halves of your brain to write “Christmas Bells and Phasm’s Spells.” Or recap it. Luckily, I’ve found something special. Or lost my fucking mind.

Behind the action show, hiding a comedy show, hiding an ad, hides a fourth show. A game show. You could even call it a sport. Each Big Bad Beetleborgs episode is a struggle between four Improv groups.

Team one: our heroes. They have the home field advantage, and waste it every time.

In improv tradition, each group’s name is a war crime.

Team two: our villains, the “Magnavores.” The defending champions. On a streak somewhere between Junkyard Dog and Ken Jennings.

Team three: the monsters, and whatever Flabber is. Saban went on a November Party City shopping spree, and asked five struggling actors to do their best.

Team four: mortals and civilians. The unfortunate residents of Charterville. You’d think there’d be rivers of dead, but they mostly get pantsed. Still, they have numbers, and play a crafty game.

The scoring’s simple. When I feel dopamine, one point. When I don’t care, no points. When I get angry, one-point penalty. If I laugh, ten points. That game balance looks transphobic, but it’s probably just asking questions.

I won’t lie: this is the toughest game of the season. I’m an elite Grinch. It’s arbitrary, but I’ll sound smarter if I blame materialism. Boo materialism. If I hate one thing after a lifetime of gaming, rap, and US citizenship, it’s materialism.

We start with a scrimmage between Meta-Heroes and Disney’s Haunted Man-Chin. The rivalry that defines the division. Time for one of the three children’s Christmas plots.

I feel nothing.

Penalty.

Meanwhile, in Charterville, the villains scream nonsense. The woman in the beret does Molotov Cocktease’s voice a decade early. The cyborg doesn’t know what show this is. I can’t even tell what the green one is meant to be. A muscular shark?

And they all hate Christmas. The Magnavores pelt civilians with Salvation Army bins.

Good times. One point. Victims get credit for the assist.

The servants of darkness check in with their manager. It’s time for their signature game: Evil Manzai. Running up the score early is a solid strategy; my brain generally dies ten minutes in.

The stupidity I live for, acted as poorly and energetically as possible. These four are having the time of their lives. The dopamine flows, against my hipster will. One point.

How’s Hill House Jr. doing?

Penalty.

The Beetleborgs head to Zoom Comics: Christmas Mode to get back in the game. There’s Christmas party plans, elf costumes, and a toy drive for local double-orphans. If you feel moved, you’re better than me.

The civvies bring out their hitters: the bullies.

Think a wealthy Bulk and Skull. The square root of Richie Rich and Dennis the Menace. Both teams give it their best:

It sucks. These kids learn about failure in real time. The ceiling of child stardom’s caving in, and the exit’s blocked by presents.

The Beetleborgs make a desperation move: a Flabber alliance. Three superheroes, a “phasm,” and the full Ghoul School use their godlike, reality warping powers to…set up a Christmas tree. Flabber even brainwashes Transylvanian darkspawn into loving the demiurge.

And you know what? That’s fine. It’s an old X-men bit, plus Young Dracula.

That’ll cost ya.

Meanwhile, the Magnavores give Christmas shoppers the Red Cross treatment.

I’m back in. Another goon squad point, with civilians drafting behind them.

Our heroes cut their Christmas album (“Oh Christmas Tree” and “Deck the Halls”) short when they notice the crater. I can’t dock them for singing. Punishing children for Christmas carols leads to green fur with Jim Carey’s worst voice. Lucrative, but jarring. And your dating pool gets narrow.

They find the alien empire robbing a fucking house.

Not even a Dr. Seuss fake-Santa bit. A home invasion. This is a runaway game. The Beetleborgs are lucky this month is laced with tragedy, or I’d have laughed. That said, the family shot sneaks the civilians a point.

Drafting works. Never stop cribbing from the literate kid in class.

The civilians make their big play. It’s more off-key caroling, and I can get that outside. That’s a zero.

Back at the plot, our heroes play their one card. Their rock. The specialty that carries their few wins: shattering the Magnavore’s kneecaps and taking them out of the game. They punch cheer into Team Rocket’s livers.

Compelling? Not really. But brilliant strategy. Draymond Green has a job for a reason. With a screentime monopoly, all the main cast has to do is make one joke work. With eight minutes on the clock.

Flabber’s back. Quality interference.

It’s become…whatever that is. Check the maleficarum. Flabber casts a spell in verse:

Erasing the stakes, with six minutes left. My old editor called this move a “get out of my fucking building.” Smart lady.

Maybe the civilians won’t blow a three-game lead. The bullies could spam one-liners until one joke lands. Or learn the meaning of Christmas offscreen.

Cool.

Back at Hillhurst, they have three minutes to deliver one punchline.

That’s also an option. After the elf-skin suit, I’m numb to frostbite Elvis. I’ll let this Santa bit roll, and move on to covering Virgin Extinction Island. Congrats to the Magnavores for keeping the dynasty strong.

Oh, I forgot these three. It’s dumb. They’re singing ghosts that live in a pipe organ, and dress like Dreamgirls extras.

It’s dumb. They’re called the Pipettes. The kind of 1-D joke that absolutely cannot survive 88 episodes.

It’s dumb. They shout “Oooh, presents.” In unison.

I laughed my ass off.

Hillhurst Mansion fucking steals one. Despite/because of fucking Flabber. Never doubt yourself again. This Christmas miracle punched a merry hole in reality.

Happy holidays. After all this, I’ll defend two BeetleConcepts: being less of a dick for half a month, and making madness from other madness. Those are solid ideas.

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Flabber. I mean Flabber. Flabber. I’m trying to type FLABBER. No, F -L-A- what the fuck is happening. Patrick Herbst will you come over and type Flabber for me. F L A B B E R see it’s fuckin’ happening to you, too!