Category: NERDING DAY

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Nerding Day: Mortal Kombat Annihilation… The Book! 🌭

As they say in Mortal Kombat, welcome back to the stage of history! By now you’ve probably already purchased Mortal Kombat 1 and have spent hours enjoying sharp gameplay and a continued inexplicable use of the letter “k” instead of “c” as a branding exercise. Also, Mortal Kombat 1 is actually Mortal Kombat 12 because it reboots the series in canon. Also, Mortal Kombat 9 was just called Mortal Kombat because it also rebooted the series in canon. So if you’re keeping track, there have been three different Mortal Kombat 1 games: Mortal Kombat, Mortal Kombat, and Mortal Kombat 1.

Just like the devious shapeshifter and weirdly cool hang Shang Tsung, Mortal Kombat loves reinventing itself. Whether you’re tearing someone’s head off in an enchanted forest or punching someone’s head off in a haunted forest, Mortal Kombat has long explored the diverse world of two people hurting each other in a quasi-spooky place. And, you know what? It’s worked for them. If only all of us could find the peace in our hearts that Mortal Kombat has found ninjas throwing different elements at one another.

With the success of the series, Mortal Kombat has spawned three theatrical releases, in this article referred to as “movies.” Two of those “movies” (or “films” as they’re also called when trying to impress someone on a date who’s losing interest fast) were successes! The first of those successful movies was called “Mortal Kombat.”

The other successful movie was called, and this is going to throw you for a huge loop, “Mortal Kombat.”

If you’re a fan of Mortal Kombat, I’ve got great news: These movies are, in fact, based on that video game series. They have action. They’ve got excitement. They’ve got credits at the end with fun music. I don’t want to spoil it, but our old friends Sub-Zero and Scorpion appear! And they’re both so cool. One throws ice and the other is all about fire but he throws a rope. They’re so cool, mom. Oh, and Reptile is cool too! Acid spit!

Between the two talkies called “Mortal Kombat,” filmmakers decided to try something original and created one called “Mortal Kombat Annihilation.” Whether it’s a good movie or not is lost to time, which means it’s absolutely not a good movie. It turns out that the key to the success of a Mortal Kombat film is having a “story” rather than just pointing to random characters from the video game series while going, “This guy? Right? You remember him? Cool, huh?”

None of the last four hundred words are important.

What’s important is that Mortal Kombat Annihilation has a middle grade novelization that includes pictures from the movie! Whoa! It’s like being able to own the movie before it leaves the theaters! All the disemboweling of the games, but now Ms. Teiss can yell at you for doing a book report on it. What do you expect my parents to do? They bought me the book! It’s their fault, Ms. Teiss!

Mortal Kombat Annihilation is a 59-page-long book. That might not sound like much, but the book is actually way bigger than you think because it includes eight pages of color photos from the film! The crazy thing? They don’t even count as pages. Those 59 pages are all meat. There’s not a wasted moment in the book. Nobody here is trying to fill space here to hit a specific word count to get paid for the assignment. Nobody would ever type a redundant sentence to hit a specific word count to get paid for the assignment. Personally, I find it offensive that someone would type the same idea three different ways while routinely clicking “tools” and then “word count.”

The important thing to know is that Mortal Kombat Annihilation is a direct sequel to the movie “Mortal Kombat” but entirely unrelated to the movie “Mortal Kombat.” That latter “Mortal Kombat” is a reboot that isn’t in canon. It all makes a lot of sense if you’re chugging a bottle of turpentine and slamming a car door on your head.

Chapter one begins with the haunting lines:

The next couple paragraphs specify what “Earth” is, which is nice for people who don’t keep up with video games and/or consciousness. It turns out that, while Liu Kang and Sonya Blade and Johnny Cage had stopped Shang Tsung, that was only the beginning! Shao Kahn has refused to accept the terms of the tournament and now Outworld is invading Earth!

Also, I wanted to make fun of the Rayden/Raiden thing, but the games seemed to also jump back and forth so I can’t really give you anything on that front.

If you’re a fan of Mortal Kombat, you know this means that this story is supposed to be an adaptation of Mortal Kombat 3, which is weirdly called that because it was the third Mortal Kombat game. I don’t get it either. But it also means that Mortal Kombat Annihilation features kameos from some of the koolest kombatants you kan konsider.

Fortunately, an entire interdimensional war based on three and a half games of a long running series can be pretty well reduced to 59 pages. And the space is well used. Here’s a passage that, when you break it down, is about 2% of the entire book’s length:

I’m not critical of the writing. It’s just impressive that that’s genuinely a good sized-portion of the book. If you read that one passage about 50 or 60 times, it’ll have taken about as much time as reading the entire book. And since people on TikTok tend to talk more about how many books they’ve read rather than quality or content, this is an easy one to throw on the list to impress strangers who would gladly plunge their hand into your stomach like it’s the movie Saw for a key that unlocks success.

Speaking of success, I have to take my hat off, then put it back on, and then walk out the door like Grandpa Simpson for the way they write Jax. Jax is black. Which means he has to be written like Gary Coleman was auditioning to play Mr. T. Jax isn’t a bad character in the games. But you do get a sense that whoever wrote or edited this book really… lacked cultural experience. Is that a way to put it? Lacked cultural experience?

Speaking of lacking cultural experience, this book loves telling you who’s beautiful. Jade. Sheeva. Heck, we all know Kitana is supposed to be Liu Kang’s love interest despite the fact she’s clearly better for Bo’ Rai Cho. Mortal Kombat Annihilation has a confused mid-puberty-like horniness. This author really wants to kiss Kitana so much, just right on the face.

What makes this book a delight to read, besides that it ends, is just how weirdly hard it tries to shovel in every Mortal Kombat character possible. To be fair, that is part of the movie. On the other hand, it makes for stellar passages like:

My only note would be that I wished there was an even greater ratio of talking about fighting to actually fighting. That said, it would probably make this book longer than 59 pages, which would ultimately turn it into something closer to a war crime than a middle grade book for children.

…

Mike Drucker is an Emmy-nominated comedian, author, and television writer. He’s written for some shows you probably liked. He’s written for some shows you probably didn’t like. He also worked as a localization editor for Nintendo of America and wrote an entire book on Silent Hill 2. His desperation is only matched by his loneliness.


This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: AnAndy, who is so surprised by this dedication that his mouth is a perfect gaping O.

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NERDING DAY

Nerding Day: Superhuman Samurai Syber-Squad 🌭

Everyone wanted in on that sweet Power Rangers heat in the ’90s. And while Saban Entertainment cranked out their share of shows based on Japanese tokusatsu to capitalize on the craze for spandex-clad warriors battling bug-eyed monsters like VR Troopers, Masked Rider, and the horrifying Big Bad Beetleborgs, they weren’t the only ones with their eyes on the prize.

In 1994, DIC Productions, who put out at least half of the American cartoons produced in the ’80s and ’90s, partnered with Tsuburaya Productions to create Superhuman Samurai Syber-Squad. If you’re unfamiliar, I bet you’re picturing a Power Rangers-like team of samurai-themed guys. If so, you are wrong. This is a show about four kids in a band called Team Samurai who occasionally go inside their Compaq brand computers to kill monsters devised by a socially awkward outcast classmate and brought to life by Tim Curry.

Sam(urai) Collins and his bandmates Tanker, Syd, and Amp are drawn into battle against the evil Kilokahn, a military AI gone rogue, when a power surge turns Sam into a video game character of his own creation. Sam is played by Matthew Lawrence, who was also Shawn’s brother on Boy Meets World and one of the kids in Mrs. Doubtfire (the one who sees his dad pissing in drag).

Sam’s friends Tanker and Syd were portrayed by Kevin Castro and Robin Mary Florence, respectively, who are best known for… Superhuman Samurai Syber-Squad. Amp was played by Troy Slaten, who was in Parker Lewis Can’t Lose and is now a lawyer interested in “ending the scourge of mass incarceration, ending the jail turnstile and ending the school-to-prison pipeline.” Hey, that’s actually pretty cool! Chalk one up for child actors.

But, of course, the real draw of the cast is Tim “Hexxus in FernGully” Curry as Kilokahn. He looks like a cyber-Shredder, he calls human beings “meat-things,” and he craaaaaves power. (Hi daddy.)

Kilokahn makes a deal with Malcolm Frink: Malcolm designs “mega-viruses,” and Kilokahn brings them to life to mess up Sam’s chances with their shared love interest, Jennifer. Of course, Kilokahn also wants to subjugate all of humanity, so Malcolm maybe isn’t thinking this all through, but who can judge what the young do for love? I once allowed a girl I had a crush on to pierce my ears with a sewing needle, and at least Malcolm isn’t getting staph from teaming up with a genocidal computer program.

How does Malcolm fuck with Sam? In the first episode, he creates a virus to stop Sam from calling Jennifer and asking her out. But uh oh! Kilokhan shuts down the entire world’s telephone lines. Sam is sucked into his computer after a power surge and becomes Servo, an Ultraman-looking hero who kicks the virus’s ass, and telephonic communication is saved.

Sam decides to keep all this a secret from everyone except his bandmates — not because he’s worried about the potential dangers or the government tracking him down to weaponize his ability to physically enter computers and do karate stunts, but because he’s embarrassed about it and doesn’t want people to think he’s a computer geek.

Sam sucks. He is, by his own admission, only interested in playing rock music to attract women. He tricks Jennifer into giving him her phone number. And he’s completely uninteresting, a vacant-eyed indictment of the emptiness of American youth culture in the ’90s.

Contrast him with Malcolm — a creative, driven young man who is computer-savvy, a talented artist, and has a cool put-on British accent. Malcolm is the kind of kid who probably got the shit kicked out of him throughout high school for being overly theatrical and wearing black all the time, then landed a great job working for a game developer and realized that he was never all that into Jennifer anyway.

Maybe his rivalry with Sam and his willingness to partner with the computer devil stemmed from his sublimated desires for his all-American classmate whose easy charm and circle of friends represented everything that Malcolm wanted but felt was denied to him because of how different he felt from his peers.

And maybe one day he’d meet someone, a programmer with a shy smile named Jake who could give him what neither Jennifer, nor Sam, nor even Kilokahn could — love and understanding. They would be happy, Malcolm and his husband. There would always be nights when he would wake up in a sweat, feeling sick to his stomach at the horrors he had wrought in his youth: the time he set up an impenetrable wall around half the world to stop Sam from getting to a gig; the time he forced Syd to go on a crime spree by putting a virus in her wristwatch; the time he tried to roast everyone in the school alive by raising the thermostat and locking the doors; the time he nearly made Sam go insane from isolation by trapping him in his video camera; the time he turned the city’s entire water supply into hydrochloric acid. That’s not who you are anymore, Jake would remind him. You’re the man I fell in love with.

And on occasion he might think of Sam, wonder where he was since they’d last seen each other at graduation, made eye contact across the stage and silently nodded, the last gesture of recognition on the part of two worthy rivals parting ways.

Meanwhile, Sam is still living in his mother’s basement and swearing that he’s going to “make it” any day now. Jennifer is a dream from long ago, and when Tanker and Syd come back to town to see their families, they smile weakly when he talks about the open mics he’s playing and how close he thinks he is to getting a record deal. Nobody has the heart to tell him to give up, that it’s not going to happen.

Sorry, I think I just started writing the world’s only Superhuman Samurai Syber-Squad fanfiction. But I digress. Aside from the humans, the monsters, and Kilokahn, there’s another character in SSSS: Compaq Computers.

Whenever a character is shown looking at something on a computer screen — which happens a lot — the Compaq logo is prominently visible on the monitor. This seems like a really odd choice for product placement in a show aimed at kids. Was the idea that children would think that Compaq computers had the capabilities to transform them into digital superheroes so they’d beg their parents to buy one rather than a Dell or Gateway?

Or was the idea just to establish brand recognition so that when the target audience was grown up and shopping for a home computer, they’d have some flash of recognition, some positive association with Compaq machines they couldn’t explain? Am I overthinking this and the Compaq executives just went to the same strip clubs as the DIC guys and they made a seemingly senseless, coke-addled deal one night? Yes.

Unlike a lot of similar shows, SSSS is actually pretty close to the Japanese series it draws its action footage from. Gridman the Hyper Agent is also about a bunch of teens who fight virtual monsters with the help of a cyber superhero. In that show, the viruses are also created by a misfit fellow student and brought to life by evil program Khan Digifer. Of course, in the original version Khan Digifer wasn’t played by Tim Curry. Can you imagine? What do the Japanese think of Tim Curry, anyway? Do they think of him as the Copy Machine Wizard because of that time he was in a Xerox commercial?

Unfortunately, Gridman ended with the protagonist dying in its 39th and final episode. That meant that SSSS had to get creative with their material around the same episode mark. After a dramatic finale in which Malcolm turns face and helps save Christmas from Kilokahn (real, that really happened), we got a number of episodes featuring all of the hits of the desperate screenwriter trying to make things work. There’s a mirror universe episode where Malcolm is nice and Jennifer is a nerd! There’s an amnesia episode where everyone forgets who they are! There’s a clip show where it’s revealed that one of the core cast members is an alien who has returned to his home planet!

And of course, there were toys. I only ever remember seeing them at the hardware store and they were marketed with the phrase “SAMURIZED FOR YOUR PROTECTION.”

What the fuck does that mean? I would have asked my dad when he was done shopping for screws or whatever, but one time my family went to stay in this cabin out in Atlantic Canada and my sister and I found a wrapper over the toilet that said “sanitized for your protection” and we thought it was the funniest thing in the world, like the toilet had been sealed off to protect us from the horrors within. Anyway he got pretty annoyed at how hyper we got about it and snapped at us, so I wasn’t going to risk bringing up that memory again.

What was I talking about? Oh, right. A show where the kid from Mrs. Doubtfire (not Mara Wilson or the other girl) fights the digital mind creations of a friendless and possibly closeted goth brought to life by Dr. Frank-N-Furter.

I watched a number of episodes of the show to jog my memory for this piece, but I also referred to the Wikipedia article, which is… extensive. Once again, I’ve stumbled onto a subject obsessively remembered by like six people and forgotten entirely by the rest of the planet. To put things in perspective, the Wikipedia article for beloved and accomplished actor and musician Tim Curry is about 4,600 words. The article on legendary German character Faust, which is linked in the plot section of the SSSS article to describe Malcolm Frink’s deal with Kilokahn, is 5,200 words. The article on SSSS is larger than both of those put together, clocking in at over 12,000 words long.

It’s a trite observation at this point that Wikipedia articles on subjects of relative inconsequence — such as ’90s television shows about teenage cyberwarriors fighting mutant diamond dinosaurs inside Compaq computers for the fate of the earth — receive far more attention than those which most people would agree are more critical to the collective store of human knowledge. I don’t care, I’m going to say it anyway. Hideo Kojima was right in Metal Gear Solid 2. The internet was a mistake.

Ironically, that seems to also be the prophetic message of Superhuman Samurai Syber-Squad, a message we failed to heed. And that might be the most interesting thing about Superhuman Samurai Syber-Squad — it accurately predicted how fucking terrible the internet and a world of connected technology would be. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some fanfiction to post to Archive of Our Own.

…
This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Joshua Graves, lead singer of Daddy’s Damp Stockings, Cleveland’s second best Father’s Wet Pantyhose cover band.

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Nerding Day: American Romance

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Nerding Day: Branson on Stage

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Nerding Day: Law & Order SVU’s Gamergate Episode 🌭

In nerd camp, they said “the medium is the message.” That’s from Marshall McLuhan, founder of a chain store. Or media theory, I wasn’t sleeping much. And I didn’t truly get this quote until the Gamergate episode of Law and Order: SVU.

This couldn’t be a play, mocked in a movie. Or a comic, mocked in a more self-conscious comic. It had to be primetime TV, and I had to mock it here. Thanks for making it possible. You’ve made a huge mistake.

Three of you might not know about SVU. Impressive, since it’s our largest export behind corn and planet death. Staying pure takes work, and I hope that your mountain training in pre-Gracie martial arts is going well. Be careful leaving the village to fetch water: it’ll definitely be on fire when you get back. Consider your master dead already.

Law and Order: Special Victims Unit is a police procedural, in the same sense Waco’s a sunny town in Texas. True, but you’re dancing around a few content tags. The team specifically deals with sex crimes/child crimes/cartoon terrorism, in the hell version of New York exclusive to excellent action, decent noir, and bad reporting.

It’s an elevated reality. You can visit it by buying thousand dollar headphones, streaming a police scanner, and then blitzing inhalants like you’re debating Hillary in an hour and have no idea why everyone’s letting it happen. Or by watching SVU.

It makes for traumatizing viewing/web comedy, so look out for that. I don’t just mean your past. SVU can inject phobias from headlines, past lives, and pure imagination. My second-favorite episode took on a hot button issue: teen deathmatch wrestlers pushed to kill by love triangles with women pretending to be 14 (after skipping around the foster care system for twenty years, keep up), via murder-techniques from AP Bio. But we’re not here for silver.

The first thing to know about SVU? It’s 24 seasons long. We’ve lost all plausible deniability. Any of us could have stopped it by now, with half the effort it took to pin Jim Crow on Awkwafina. It’s not NBC’s show, it’s our show. The royalties offset your taxes. I’m playing Panicked Witness #3 this week, and they expect your next script by Thursday.

I’d say it’s gone mad over time. But season one has a Wall Street extra murdered in a bondage dungeon. As grounded, low-stakes filler after a flight attendant murders a judge laundering money for the governor. That’s not the premise. He kept her husband in prison in exchange for sex, which isn’t the premise. He had the same deal with dozens of women around the state.

Madness.

Let other John Mulaney impersonators deny it: I embrace my sins. I watched endless afterschool hours of Copaganda: Dead Escort Edition. The Dayles preferred TNT to talking. And I’m pretty sure we had a Nielsen box, or Nick Cannon would be unemployed, Wendy Williams would be panhandling, and Tyler Perry would be a cartoon skeleton with a tin cup.

The second key fact: it’s merged with the cast. Ice-T is, to millions worldwide, an actor dabbling in music. More Americans mourned Detective Munch than national prosperity. Cameos by the former male lead are holidays in homes that still pay for cable. Finally, in an industry without loyalty or memory, Mariska Hargitay has built a fortress outside of time. She has more control of the show than the network. Think CM Punk, without the disorder.

Unfortunately, this isn’t the funniest writing about SVU. That’s this collection of fake SVU summaries, which I’ll covet like Salieri until I die cursing God. I hope you brought a closing style parody, because I’m unarmed.

We’re in the show’s youth: season 16. Before stock plans for cast retirement, death, and career growth. It’s about Gamergate, which gets easier to summarize each year. Watch: Bud Light backlash, but for any women existing. Bang. By 2030, I’ll have it down to a vowel.

Three scenes in “Intimidation Game” matter. The first opens with some ass-covering:

Are you friends with a lawyer? Are they the late type? Write this on a napkin, and you’ll summon them like a familiar. It’s the easiest surprise party or divorce paper handoff you’ll ever plan. Just avoid glass doors, they run headfirst.

The legal teflon fades to a convention. I should say gaming convention, since events exist for cars, careers, and keeping cancer treatments expensive. That’s alien to me. Cons are costume contests and costume contest harassment. Gamer Detective Ice-T’s there with his full set of non-gamer coworkers, which is almost weird enough to miss Gamer Detective Ice-T. The dialogue heals my dead heart.

I love that this still happens. It has to be either pandering or tradition; more NBC writers play Lootbox Master than finish film school. We laugh with stilted gaming dialogue, and seek death when shows namecheck XCom.

Well, that’s my theory for the writers. Outside-going actors might have different rules. Take this detective:

She is in hell. But it’s not necessarily the con: she might have a Black Flag tattoo.

On that note, a developer has the misfortune to be the first civilian on camera. Making her a victim, corpse, or terrible extra. I’d say she’s our Zoe Quinn (Gamergate’s Franz Ferdinand) stand-in, but they had a disclaimer. This is an original character. She fell from Dick Wolf’s forehead, fully formed. And now meets this charmer:

One tension drives “Intimidation Game.” Can SVU out-stupid reality? Because this line is idiotic and perfectly accurate. Not-Zoe parries with old virgin jokes, which also scans. Flamewars reteach War Games’s main lesson, forever.

Next is an SVU specialty: artless juxtaposition. Each episode has to work in a pitch-black felony while staying on cable. Today, while Ice-T geeks out over a Tribes recolor, the typecast incel above strikes. The game commentary sounds like this:

I had to read that twice, which feels like karma. The plot sort of revolves around Kill or Be Slaughtered, a doomed Unreal Tournament parody. It mostly gives us something to cut to during assault. Sixteen seasons of discretion shots wear an editor down.

Now, this bit isn’t my point. But since SVU has four minutes for VR jokes, I have one for story wank. In real life, no one knows what’s going on next door. I know that, you know that. But in pulp action–any detective that quips counts–your heroes look like failures. Our entire cast hoots at MineWatch: Reach while the only crime they fight unfolds. It’s like watching Batman text through clown murders.

Bad look. Solid political cartoon.

Eventually, a detective gets around to checking out the crime scene. Fake E3 is compelling, but the plot cart can’t push itself. When she asks the victim what happened, we get the most response in tv history. You pick the adjective.

“They leveled up.” Breathe that in. Swish it around. Pretend to understand hookah, and impress your friends. Then tell me how this aired.

Here’s how I learned about brick jokes. At twenty, I thought that pun was this scene’s low point. At twenty-five, I thought it was trivializing sex crimes. At thirty, the final stage of wisdom, I know it’s the full cast still watching Quake demos. The villains try to represent gaming’s worst, but our heroes nail wasting your life on Twitch.

Half of the investigation is sane-ish. Jock detectives get confused by gaming slang, and Ice-T defines it. No matter how many times the script says Detective Fin Tutuola, your brain says “Hey, Ice-T.” In this episode, he cosplays Navi. It’s magic.

He explains Not-GamerGate as “In their world, a developer’s like God, and some guys aren’t ready to give a girl that kind of power.” Infinitely cooler than “Billy hasn’t gotten laid since Mass Effect 2.”

Ice-T still has zero range after sixteen seasons, so his loading screen tips sound a lot like his sex crime reactions. He either suffers gaming, or gets too much out of work. Either way, he’s the only one that can navigate the dark forest of frog memes. A trail leading all the way to the basement.

Our villains met online, because of course. Ice-T explains “RedChanIt” to the squares, which sounds like a name I’d mock. Nope. I’m very down with sabotaging Reddit’s IPO by stapling it to 8chan. Watching Spez reach for nothing and fail is art. Only this episode’s peak can compete.

Namely, the second scene that matters. Walk with me. I like loose metaphors, so I need you to know this is very literal. No curveballs.

Incels threaten Not-Zoe’s boss, Not-Anita.

Not-Anita holds a defiant press conference.

Not-Anita gets kidnapped by incel commandos.

Said incels evade our present, armed, and forewarned heroes.

The incels hijack a Times Square billboard.

Revealing Incel Bane.

That’s unedited.

I lied. The villains aren’t 4chan lurkers: they’re Batman villains. “Intimidation Game” is off the rails by SVU standards, which existed until now.

One word taps how fucking stupid this is. I try to avoid it, because it hurts people. It’s from a very specific era, and targets a specific lifestyle. And they’ve suffered more than enough. But I have to.

This is sublime.

This is stupidity bigger than me. Bigger than my imagination. It’s a cannonball into the Grand Canyon. It’s daggering on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. It’s stealing fire from Zeus to light a fart. And it relies on such narrow experience. No one above sixty or below ten on Sep 5, 2023 will truly understand. We are the last keepers of this moment.

Yet it’s real.

New York, like all zip codes, has crime. Organized crime, sex crime, muggings, campaign finance graft, short sells, the Hudson Yards honeycomb, more campaign finance graft, the works. I heard there was even a terror attack. This is still a cartoon. When SVU says “ripped from the headlines,” they mean Detective Comics.

I hope MLG reactionaries stick to spree killing. If they organized, we’d invade every OPEC member with a Playstation. Browsing Twitch would put you on a list the NSA actually checks, instead of the rusty file cabinet with aliens and future mass shooters. Valve headquarters would set off Geiger counters for miles. Gamers would learn, for the first time, what it’s like to be oppressed.

There’s more.

The unit tracks Incel Bane to his headquarters. I think it’s below Arkham, but he might have a Phantom Zone co-op. Either way, they corner the League of Assassins on a rooftop. One noble soul turns from the darkness, fifty minutes, two sex crimes, and one terrorist attack in. There’s hope for everyone.

Neither do I, man.

Our look at game culture ends the only way it could: an FPS sequence.

If you’ve seen Doom, you know this is a mistake. If you can spell tone or sexual assault, you know this is a mistake. That knowledge is an anchor. All knowledge is an anchor. You could make Law and Order: Special Victims Unit instead. Your brain’s burning generational wealth.

Ice-T comes to the rescue, thanks to a solid diamond contract. They keep the FPS gimmick going, hoping to suffocate critics with laughter. It’s an excellent plan. I’m writing this from the ER.

That’s not my line. Ice T says it after shooting the world’s eighth angriest NEET. The music says tragedy. The dialogue, fan wiki, and sex dungeon rescue directly preceding this say tragedy. My eyes say Team Deathmatch, and the nurse says “breathe.”

“Can SVU outstupid reality?” Please. SVU’s writers could out-stupid grass. They could out-stupid the entire primary, on or offstage. They could out-stupid themselves on an all-lead diet. They are the Gods of vacuity. Right now, their script coordinator’s opening a jar with his teeth.

That’s why we’re short on cop jokes today. This episode’s too dumb for them. SVU aspires to copaganda, but you have to read books to misquote them. The “Intimidation Game” writers are still working on Green Eggs and Ham. I’ll be sad when they finish it.

If you’re interested in learning more about post-thought, feel free to audit my fall course:

Game on, friends.

…
This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: FancyShark, who’s into Beached Sharkplay. That’s when you and your partner take turns biting each other and wiggling on a wet mat.

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NERDING DAY

Nerding Day: Rifts 🌭

Back in the early 2000s we didn’t have “actual play podcasts” or Matt Mercer’s soothing voice or a vibrant indie publishing landscape for tabletop games innovating on ways to add knives to fish. If you wanted to play a pen and paper roleplaying game you were basically stuck with whatever you could pilfer from your friend’s nerdy older brother’s pile of Battletech manuals, copies of Wizard, and softcore porno mags. In my case, that game wasn’t Dungeons & Dragons, but a bizarre mash-up of every conceivable genre called Rifts, put out by Palladium Books in the early ’90s.

Rifts is set in a post-apocalyptic world where humanity nuked itself to hell and then things got really bad. The simultaneous deaths of billions of people re-energized the magical ley lines crisscrossing the planet, which then started opening the titular rifts to other dimensions, turning earth into an interdimensional crossroads where magic and technology collide. It was kind of similar to cyberpunk games like Shadowrun but had its own unique vibe and immediately became successful despite the comical ineptitude of its creator, Kevin Siembieda. Rifts went on to spawn dozens and dozens of sourcebooks and a few different editions of the core rules, but the first version of the main book is the one that’s the nearest and dearest to my heart. And before we get into what’s inside the book, we have to talk about the cover. The fucking cover! Look at this shit:

Kevin Siembieda, in his infinite wisdom, decided that the single best image to represent his new RPG wasn’t one of the titular rifts (though he did that in a later version), nor any of the iconic player characters from it, but a giant, slobbering tentacle monster whose upper body is totally jacked and whose lower body is a giant party boat upon which several semi-nude women with rockin’ tits brandish sci-fi weaponry. This plainly rules. For the record, neither the Splugorth Slaver nor the Blind Warrior Women, as they were later named, are featured in the core rulebook. This is unrelated art from an unknown van.

But that’s part of the magic of Rifts! Yes, as we’ll soon see, the game sucked, but it had mystique. Kevin Siembieda would just allude to shit without really explaining it, which is one of the best things a science fiction writer can do. Mexico is full of vampires! Dinosaurs roam the swamps of Florida! In Europe, giant robots are fighting an empire of gargoyles! Atlantis is back and it’s been taken over by interdimensional monsters from its original inhabitants, tattooed wizard people! Every adventure you have in Rifts starts by “yes, and”ing a third grader’s least refined idea.

The problem is that keeping any kind of mystery in your fictional world takes restraint, a quality Siembieda is not known for. He would later start filling out every inch of the globe with World Books covering Canada and Germany and Atlantis and Japan and — I’m not kidding here — Quebec specifically, and that’s when the magic started to fade. It didn’t help that he took the laziest and most stereotypical approach possible to every locale Palladium covered. Rifts Canada has demon beavers. Rifts Japan has karate dragon cyborgs. Rifts Australia has Mad Max guys who ride giant mutant kangaroos.

But back to the main Rifts book itself. The first thing you get when you open it is a message found in all of Palladium’s games that was presumably a response to the Satanic Panic associated with Dungeons and Dragons. My favorite thing about it is that it says Palladium doesn’t encourage the practice of magic, implying that magic is real. Their defense is not “Magic isn’t real, Silly.” It’s “All of this works, but we need you to be fucking cool about it.” For God’s sake, readers, do not attempt to cast Summon and Control Rodents, Create Mummy, or Magic Pigeon!

Mechanically, Rifts followed in the footsteps of Palladium’s other games. It’s crunchy, math-heavy, and uses every kind of die that exists. You have piles of stats, skills, gear, and other bullshit and combat regularly takes hours to resolve because of how clunky the system is. It’s truly awful, requiring that you mark down dozens of different penalties and bonuses on your character sheet. There are several pages devoted to the rules for missiles alone.

A lot of the material is lifted straight out of their past books, like the insanity system, which is from their Call of Cthulhu-inspired title Beyond the Supernatural. There are also in-depth rules for alcoholism and drug addiction, which are treated with all of the solemnity you would expect from a role-playing game with borderline tentacle porn on the cover.

Rifts’s main “innovation” versus Palladium’s other titles was the infamous “Mega Damage.” See, regular damage is cool, right? Like when you shoot a gun or punch someone and they take 1D6 damage? Wrong. You know what’s cool? When you shoot a laser gun and it does 1D6 MEGA DAMAGE! Hell yeah, brother!

Mega Damage was supposed to represent the high technology and strength of magical energy of the Rifts setting. Basically, one point of Mega Damage equals 100 points of regular damage. So if you’re an average human and get hit by even the weakest Mega Damage weapons, you’re toast. This means that every self-respecting Rifts character either walks around in full environmental body armor at all times or else is a dragon, cyborg, or other kind of being who can naturally withstand Mega Damage. It was trying to fix a problem nerds already knew to ignore since Superman first met Green Arrow.

But instead of fixing anything, it immediately raised a lot of extremely stupid questions. What happens if you shoot a Mega Damage laser at the ground? Could you take a Mega Damage weapon to a parallel dimension that doesn’t have advanced technology and rule the world with it? Can a Mega Damage dragon that has shapeshifted into a human being have sex with another human without a fatal accident? Also, is that morally ok to do if they don’t know you’re secretly a fire-breathing tactical commando wizard?

Why did Kevin Siembieda think this was a good idea in the first place? Possibly because Kevin Siembieda had a powerful psychic connection to Rifts’ target audience of 13 year old boys, all of whom thought that anything MEGA was fucking awesome. Naturally, all of this was explained in the most breathless way possible, which brings me to another issue.

There is no elegant way to put this, so here goes: Kevin Siembieda is an absolute fucking slut for exclamation points. If this guy could Scrooge McDuck into a giant vault of exclamation marks that would be his greatest fantasy come true. He sucks and fucks for exclamation marks. Remember that Seinfeld episode where Elaine is dating that guy who doesn’t use exclamation marks? He’s the opposite of that guy. He uses them constantly and to the point that your eyes just start to gloss over them. There are 183 exclamation marks in Rifts. I counted.

What kind of characters can you play in Rifts? Basically fucking anything. You want to be a cyborg? Sure. You want to be a psychic who starts Mega-Damage Capacity fires with their mind? You got it. You want to be a drug-fuelled Batman wearing football pads? Be our guest.

They’re called Juicers, by the way, and they fucking rule. The only problem is that the GM can kill you off with a timeskip whenever he wants because your heart explodes after a few years on da juice.

There were a few characters that almost nobody seemed to play in Rifts. For some of them, it was because of the way they were depicted. Like, there’s a class called the Crazy that’s basically a psychic Joker who gets their powers from implants that also gradually melt their brain. It sounds cool, but this is the only piece of art the book gives us.

Actually this guy rules. But what if I told you that there was a class called a Cyber-Knight that has cybernetic armor and can summon a psychic energy sword at any time? That’s gotta be great, right? Well, no. It’s fucking stupid.

There are also characters nobody wanted to play because Rifts is a game about kicking as much ass as possible and who the hell wants to be a “Rogue Scholar” or “Wilderness Scout” when you can be a Techno-Wizard or a Mind Melter? There’s also a class called “Vagabond” that’s just a normal guy, and their claim to fame is that they start with a toothbrush and “several pieces of candy,” which nobody else in the game gets.

On the flip side, there are some characters that are so powerful that most GMs banned outright. The most common was the Glitter Boy, a name that is used without any trace of irony. It’s a guy who drives around a giant robot that has the single most powerful weapon in the game, and it’s called the Glitter Boy because it has mirrored armor that reflects lasers. It’s absolute 8-year-old boy playfighting logic, and I love it.

The rest of the book is dedicated to lists of equipment, some details filling out the world, and a few full-color pages, some of which are clearly reproduced from Palladium’s earlier books. Oh, this is a Cyber-Knight and companion? Fuck you, that’s a couple of fantasy orcs.

There’s also a lot of space dedicated to detailing the Coalition, the Nazi-esque human supremacist government that rules a big chunk of North America. In a misguided attempt at subtlety, Siembieda repeatedly states that not ALL Coalition soldiers are monsters. But come on, look at these guys. They look like a mean-spirited boardwalk caricature of Nazis, if such a thing were possible.

It gets better, though. Behold the Coalition Death’s Head Transport!

And if you really want to get wild, check out the Coalition Spider-Skull Walker. My favorite thing about it is the Editor’s Note in the first sentence of its description that says “Yes, we know spiders have eight legs.)”

You might be thinking, hey, Rifts has magic, aliens, robots, cyborgs, steroid-enhanced maniacs — this would make a great video game! Well, as it turns out there actually was a Rifts video game. On the Nokia N-Gage. Yes, the platform that made sidetalking a reality also played host to a Rifts RPG. God, do people remember sidetalking? Does anyone even remember the N-Gage? I can’t believe that 2005 was nearly 20 years ago. Fuck, I’m going to age and die just like everyone else!

Anyway, Rifts on the N-Gage is apparently not bad, but nobody actually played it because it was on the N-Gage.

Sadly, Kevin Siembieda’s troubles did not end with betting on the wrong horse for his video game. By all accounts, the man is something of a control freak and bad manager. This all culminated in what he called the “Crisis of Treachery,” which was Siembieda-speak for Palladium being in dire financial straits due to a series of poor decisions on top of alleged theft and embezzlement which he claimed totaled around a million dollars. A former sales manager eventually took a plea bargain for theft from the company and was ordered to pay about fifty grand in restitution. What’s weird, though, is that the theft apparently wasn’t detected until years after the fact, because what was stolen wasn’t regular inventory but random geek memorabilia that Siembieda had left around the office.

To recoup his losses, Siembieda sold signed prints and urged fans to buy books directly through their online store. If it weren’t done by a self-aggrandizing maniac who was essentially emotionally blackmailing his audience over the theft of his Kenner Star Wars figures, this would almost be touching.

Today, Palladium Books is inexplicably still around. They were last in the news when they launched a Kickstarter for a game based on the Robotech anime license, which raised nearly $1.5 million but failed to deliver rewards to a number of backers. Palladium eventually lost the Robotech license in 2018. When even a company like Harmony Gold doesn’t want to work with you, you have incontrovertibly fucked up.

The legacy of Rifts is mainly one of mockery and derision, and maybe I’ve only contributed to that with this piece. It was nearly impossible to play, had the world-building of a kid smashing action figures together, and was badly written. In the modern RPG landscape there are hundreds of better-designed games to choose from. Still, while Rifts was an absolute mess and Kevin Siembieda is at best a bad businessman and at worst an egotistical maniac who alienated nearly all of his collaborators and fans, he did give us this drawing of wildman Michael McDonald running through the post-apocalyptic wilderness with a laser pistol.

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