Nerding Day: Animal Kaiser 🌭

Fuck Reddit. They sent me on a wild goose chase around the world. Their list of Animal Kaiser booths and a makeup wedding overlapped, and I struck. Ever been to a cope wedding? It’s like being late to a key party. Maybe food’s worth walking downtown, but I wouldn’t ride anything that floats or flies. I wanted Animal Kaiser, and got nothing but church and food poisoning. Fuck Reddit. I hope Merritt shames the admins into finding tantos and apologizing.

Excessive? If you’re a coward. Animal Kaiser’s a safari combat game. I’d face Malaysian urgent care twice for that. The closest alternative’s Them’s Fightin’ Herds, and mocking furries sends you to hack purgatory. I’d go further for Animal Kaiser than anyone in my life, sight unseen, and that’s why it wasn’t my wedding.

Wowee, what a once-in-a-lifetime No. My flight died twice, with apology notes saying “eat shit,” and “clean your plate.” They dumped me in Singapore, where mouthy street artists do great. State dominatrixes are a fun idea. Finally, after reaching Malaysia, I learned that funding genocide is as popular as funding genocide. Though not everyone thought I was American. Some assumed I was a dealer, and made oblique nods to the death penalty. A vast improvement.

Two weeks of digestive rebellion later, I found the arcade. The former arcade. Closed, until further god damn it.

You know where a copy lives? Brooklyn. Where I live. In the nerd mall, where I also live. Every coffee with another mental child ends there, in the anime bookstore, less than 500 feet from a working, coin-stealing copy of Animal Kaiser.

I can’t stay mad. Animal Kaiser has too much spirit.

Fighting spirit. And naked graft. Fighting graft.

Don’t blame Bandai for the janky screenshots; finding a machine was a pure surprise. Today’s photos are phone quality, while my other hand mashes buttons. A Bandai Cross Store employee recorded my first fight, but that gave local shoplifters too much courage. I was halfway through another article, but now this week is Animal Kaiser.

In defiance of marketing tradition, the real machine looks like the promo image. In fact, it might be even more of a color bomb live:

All those fighting game jokes? Lies. Animal Kaiser is only culturally a fighting game. The gameplay’s a Vegas version of Digimon. Wait, too niche. Monster Rancher? Shin Megami Tensei? What’s the one everyone knows? Ah well. Animal Kaiser has turn-based combat, creature collection, and an element system I ignored. I was too busy turning money into cardboard.

You get one card per attempt, and I played until I beat the lowest difficulty. Here’s my Animal Kaiser winnings/trash:

Like the rest of post-BTC civilization, Animal Kaiser leans on the Beanie Baby model: maximum collectibility, minimum value. The presentation’s wonderful, so I rolled with it. To see this shallow injustice play out elsewhere, visit any bar.

More high-level summary’s pointless. I sound more like a trepanning survivor than usual. Instead, here’s what it’s like to play.

First, tokens. Arcades owe a niche audience their lives—a perfect opportunity for funny money. Maybe the less invested half of any relationship can pull that. Try paying friends in PalBucks, which might look like bent paper clips to the educated.

Maybe Animal Kaiser planned to let arcades set their own prices. I can’t say, since it’s scarce. As things stand, the Bandai Cross Store just charges one token. Only their token’s two dollars. Ballsy, considering how hardwired tokens are to quarters in nerd brains. Even Time Crisis costs a dollar in most child exploitation centers. I should’ve known Animal Kaiser would have fighting spirit.

Bye money!

I’d say that was all I spent, but you can count.

For two dollars, I meet Animal Kaiser’s announcer. He’s perfect. The unseen hero belts Animal Kaiser Plus! with the subdued restraint of a grenade gun. And then asks for cards. I don’t have cards. An impasse.

But I can press the button. Animal Kaiser launched into gameplay.

Okay, more card requests. Three kinds of cards. But the announcer’s still shouting, and I’m still in. While premium beasts are paywalled, I can use Leo, king of the jungle.

Cub of the jungle. Princes are more plugged into day-to-day journalist murders anyway. This is better, Leo’s still hungry. And presumably free because he couldn’t be tamed.

Holy fuck. Leo’s clearly endangered for a reason. For all the text-level conservationism, the mechanics say predators are half shitters, half overpriced. I’m convinced that Zazu would knock out Mufasa in one round.

I’m fooling around a little. Instead of stopping time, the Asiatic Black Bear merely boulder-fastballs you to death. This is my first match. This is the first thing that happens. After getting senton’d into the Earth by a black bear, I’m ready to throw it in. But Leo actually perseveres, and strides to his next rival. The prince is ready to reign.

Now, I haven’t played many games—they cut into Bible study. So a rattlesnake uppercutting a lion into orbit might be mundane. But I hung out with a belly dancer long enough to learn far too much about snakes. They can’t uppercut things. They don’t have arms. That shit’s cracked.

Almost as insane as Leo’s response:

Embarrassing. But here’s how Leo fails. Peep this color nuke from Leo’s comeback attempt:

Oh, the African Elephant’s a boss. About as hard as fighting an elephant.

Note the four slot machines of movement. You don’t pick attacks in Animal Kaiser: you slap a green button for a random attack type, and a yellow button for random strength. The computer does the same from a Borg cube somewhere. If you get a bigger number than Locutus, you get to attack. Less, and you can go fuck yourself.

Or you can tie. Double or nothing.

Oh shit, we’re fighting back this time!

Good job, Leo! Right on its carnival-weakened spine. We might clinch this one.

Ruptured ballsacks. Well, now we get the system. The next game’s a lock.

See, while Animal Kaiser looks pay-to-win. It’s actually gambling. Leo’s timely death earned this card:

I love it.

There’s satisfaction to small victories like this. The momentum’s like drinking, without all the rough stuff. Let’s keep gambling! I’ll just throw out some more money. Most faiths say it sucks anyway.

Everyone wish money luck. It’s going on an adventure.

T’Challa’s an overall upgrade. His bigger number boosts other numbers onscreen, which lets me pretend I’m in control. More importantly, his card says “The Dark Hunter.” Who can resist?

Oh, and gambling gave us lightning powers.

Handy card—we’re T’Challa and Storm’s illegitimate child. Unless Marvel paired them off like a South Park gag. Can you imagine? Then we’re in line for the throne, or at least X-legacy admission.

In case the basic appeal’s unclear: all Animal Kaiser action flies over the top. The sanest move is a flying electric ray doubling in size, floating into orbit, and dunking you into the Earth. Wait, that’s wrong. Let’s look at that.

Life has those moments.

In hell, all slot machines play like Animal Kaiser. It’s flawlessly broken. The poker to penury pipeline rarely looks this good, aside from the greeters, dealers, stage shows, nearby strip clubs, in-house strip clubs, and I just learned something. Still, every Animal Kaiser move has the creative spark of a child writing about a bully-proof robot. I’d try the multiplayer, but other customers prefer games where choices influence outcomes. Weird. Back to gambling!

Victory feels close. We just need to beat three problems. Or as they’re known here, African elephants.

Elephant One: fortune. We’ve got a one in-five chance of picking our lightning powers, and then a fifty-fifty chance of getting jumped first. Based on that weird class with the fractions and angry teachers, our odds of victory are “fucked.”

Elephant Two: the scanner’s more fucked. Every now and then, the booth decides I can choke. Then I’m Leo again, and he hasn’t been working out.

Christ.

Luckily, a nerd oracle offers me some wisdom. Let’s call him Prof. Oak, he’d like that. He explains that the machines are U.K. imports, since burgers weren’t worth robbing. Good instincts. As battle-hardened units, the machines need a “gentle touch.” Which, in practice, means card-blasting them. The lactic acid buildup is rapid and non-romantic. But it gets results.

When I turn to thank Prof. Oak, he’s gone. Likely shoplifting. Before you judge him, search “Perfect Grade Unicorn Gundam.”

Elephant Three: the elephant.Throw all the hadoukens you want at it. It just steps on you.

See? He’s his own Tony Jaa. Four kids fly out of the Jersey fair every spring, and they just blame the ferris wheel.

I like T’Challa, but he still hasn’t landed. We’ll have to keep digging. And by digging, I mean spending. Gacha is a ritual that summons debt.

Come on. How much garbage can one machine produce? How much wealth flows from lunatics to Bandai every year? Why can’t I do this? How is this game beating every witch in North America?

I just need to be patient. A solution will present itself.

Trash.

Meh.

Rotting trash.

Recycling.

Hello Nurse. Do you fight here often? Where have you been all my fiscal life? Let me know if you need more money. Nevermind, of course you do.

We’ve paid. Is it time to win?

Yeah, Niles has spirit. In fact, he’s a boss on this difficulty. I imagine a Niles-on-Niles match would expose just how much Animal Kaiser plays itself. A different, funnier world. Instead, we have a rematch with the fucking elephant.

I think Niles won’t kill it. See what I did there?

Unlike most representatives, I can read: the universe likes to fake me out. Somehow, harassing God and wizards for three years fucked with my luck. Instead of learning or apologizing, I’ll use that. In fact, I’ll raise the universe: we’ll find Niles bleeding, on fire, belly-up before an unharmed elephant. On the ocean floor. How’s that, Poseidon you floating wittol?

Ah, piss. This might be a two-parter.

Sidebar: is it even worth pointing out that Niles is on fire underwater, like Spongebob? We’ve already seen a shapeshift stingray fight an electrokinetic panther. Reality is another country. Nevermind. Let’s just work on titles for part two. Maybe a play on The Bronx Zoo? Or the global ecological collapse? The zoo sounds more fun.

Doubling! I have no idea what anything onscreen means. I pasted fighting game quotes to add logic. Animal Kaiser feels closer to divination than gameplay, and I think the harvest is in danger.

Glub?

Sure.

I did it! I planned and understood nothing and did it! Everyone after me should find their bootstraps.

What’s all the fuss about? Gambling feels amazing. I’m a winner! Everyone in the nerd store likes me. I’m comfortable in my own skin, and I’ll feel even better after I beat the next FUCK, AGAIN? Is everything a serotonin parasite? I just wanted to see a gorilla punch a giraffe.

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Thomas Cavazos, Gold-Rare American Bald Eagle tech-speed main with a Miracle Link win ratio and zero respect for aquatic life.