Saturday, August 13, 2016

The End of the Road.

This blog is going to be put down for good. It's been so much fun running this alongside my stories, and it won't stop, but Neon Sunrise is over, closing up shop. For real this time. It got to the point where running three blogs covering three different things was very tiresome, an too much to handle. Instead, I've started a new blog, which can be found here which will be a catch-all for everything except for my short horror stories, which will remain active here.

Everything from reviews, ramblings, art, vlogs, and collaborations will be on the first blog linked from here on out, and given that it will have most of my attention, your readership and interactivity would be so, so, so appreciated. I want to create content for people to enjoy and work hard making it, so reading that one would mean so much.

Other than that, I want to thank everyone who took the time to read this thing. It was with your help that this rinky-dink thing got off the ground and experienced moderate success, and I hope the new one can do even better. Lastly, so this one isn't completely lost, I'll be handpicking what I believe to be the best is blog had to offer, with writings that I'm most proud of, and transferring them over to the new one.

Again, thanks a million, and hopefully I'll continue to see you down the road :)


Wednesday, August 10, 2016

WWF- In Your House 8: The Trollpasta of the Century

I don't write this for the sake of using increasingly outdated internet lingo like "Lulz", or to appear as if I'm simply writing this story in the futile hopes that it will ascend to the pantheon of all things troll. No. You won't find things like "ALL TEH BLUD" or, "Linus was holding the Necronomicon" in this story. Instead, allow me to take you down a far more convoluted route and tell you about the one dvd I could never decipher in the most David Lynch way possible: Satire that doesn't hit on the nose but rather bashes your brains in.

My whole life I've been a WWF/E fan, but being such comes with a heavy burden, a secret we are bound to keep yet one I'm risking my life by telling you this anyways: wrestling IS real, and it's in fact the real world that is fake. Because of this, you can understand why my local shop owner, a small Asian woman prone to having fits of psychotic delusions due in part to her traumatic experiences with a dishwasher, was more willing to hand me a few copies of snuff films than she was to give me a tape of my favorite wrestling Pay-Per-Vyew, "In Your House".

Yes, it's real, and yes, there were occasions in which large, oily musclebound men screaming "BROTHERRRRRRR" were known to break the boundaries of time and space, shattering televisions and terrorizing Mid-Western families. I had heard the stories, sure, but I was far too interested in watching the actual show than any possible steroid fueled transcendental incidents. Eventually, I was able to hide the shop owner's body well enough in a dumpster a few blocks down so that I felt safe rummaging through her belongings. Oh, and as an aside, cutting bodies into pieces is much harder than you think when you've only got a Fisher-Price keyboard on hand.

While I was busy cleaning up "All teh blud" that once belonged to the shopkeeper, (oops, did I just give you a trope I promised not to be in here?) I pondered the journey ahead and wondered if I would ever be the same when I came out of the proverbial wrestling womb. I wasn't exactly sure if a wrestling dvd was even in this shop, I guess I had just assumed such to give this train wreck of a story legs to stand on. Oh well, guess I have to drop the "shopkeeper" angle entirely.

While my ultimate prize was indeed "In Your House 13: A Series Of Substandard and Underwhelming Matches That Make You Want To Do Taxes", I was simply defeated when I only managed to find a copy of "In Your House 8: The Analocalypse of 2027." At least my callous disregard for the life of another human being was not in vain. The show was mediocre at best, but can you blame me? I was under serious distress! I could hear someone come in but I was certainly unable to pass as an elderly Asian woman, as I hadn't been to my classes specifically tailored for that very thing in a while.

Heading back to my underground dwelling, complete with unidentifiable green goo covering the walls and a hoarde of rats scurrying about (each of which had their own names and sense of identity. Except for Thomas. Fucking poser. Stay off of my DeviantArt, asswipe.), I pried the VCR from the dead hobo's cold, grimy fingers, only to be let down when I realized that I, in fact, had a DVD in my hand. After a few moments of experiencing sheer, unyielding terror brought on by the crushing weight of reality and the fact that the life will one day leave all of our eyes, I remembered.....I'm in a Trollpasta. As a matter of fact, I'm the fucking AUTHOR of the Trollpasta, so whatever I say goes, goddammit!!

Sliding the VHS tape in, I prepared my body for the most intense experience one could imagine from such a spectacle. My nipples hardened firmly at the sight of all my favorites being showcased, everyone from the Cocktease Cowboy, Spaghetti-Armed Kid, "Black Juice Jamboree", and of course, Dank Danny Dildonson (there, you had your "dankness". Happy that you got your fix?) After a quick rundown of the matches to come, the announcer stepped out of the ring to allow the two hulking monstrosities of men to have plenty of room for their match.

I took note of the dark, smokey arena, filled with people that looked almost like shadows that didn't budge whatsoever, their white eyes peering down on the ring menacingly while the wrasslers made their respective entrances. It felt an awful lot like these things held something....sinister, a deep dark secret that held the key to this eerie tape itself....but I won't remember to tell you what it was by the end, so fuck it.

It felt like an eternity before these hotdogs wearing spandex came out, moving at odd, jerky angles. I don't remember them moving like that in any of the previous invasions organized against your household, but somehow this wasn't strange enough for me to pause and wonder what the fuck just happened. On top of that, their painfully 1990's generic rock music that probably came from a royalty free soundtrack was slow and distorted, making "wub wub" noises and occasionally screeching. It was rather hard to decipher that it was even malfunctioning.

The opening contest was between "Jelly Fingers" Jones and Tits McGee in a blindfolded naked half-dead inferno cage match on top of a scaffolding. Y'know, the standard fare. The match was a little hard to see, considering they were way the fuck up there, and the camera men were left circling the ring while redneck hick fans in the front row constantly and consistently chastised them for not "Showin' us that Rock fella". I simply assumed these must've been time traveling hicks, considering Rock as a character didn't show up for another few years.

The men battled back and forth, distant screaming punctuated with small amounts of blood flying it's way to the arena floor. I was quite irritated that I didn't get to see the whole thing, as I'm sure at one point I heard what sounded like sobbing and DEFINITELY the sound of a chainsaw starting up. I began to wonder if this was really a good idea, but before I knew it, I was shaken from my stupor in perhaps the first bit of real action all night.

Suddenly, the few in attendance (mostly inhabitants of the nosebleed seats) erupted with glee as Jelly Fingers Jones soon became jelly himself on the pavement below, leaving Ol' Titan Tits the victor. This is the part of the story where someone would usually say, "That was a bit strange, as I had never seen that before.", But no, it was more than a bit strange. It was kind of fucking terrifying actually why was this shit ever put on tape or even mentioned again?

I cried, knowing I could've very easily turned it off but I knew that would disappoint potential readers, so I kept going. While poor interns scraped bits of Jelly Jones pancake into little dust bins, the next match commenced as planned, this time between legitimate real life wrestling legend Jushin "Thunder" Liger (who was in WCW at this time but whatever. Fuck your continuity.) and guest wrestler Bob Ross. Jushin was great and all, but I could tell Bob was about to paint this poor bastard into a fucking grave.

Again, the entrances were different, except Jushin's seemed as if it were sped up x2.5 times the normal speed. When Bob Ross came out, he didn't have theme music, but instead stood pretty much at the top of the ramp and waited around for thirty or so minutes while a full episode of "The Joy of Painting" played on the large screen, featuring Bob painting some of his favorite examples of Satanic symbolism. As above, so below indeed, Bob.

The match was even more entertaining than I had hoped for, with Bob doing his usual tricks such as jamming paint brushes into his opponents eyes, writing profanities and drawing penises along their bodies, etc. Jushin Liger on the other hand kinda did his regular moveset, though spiced things up a little partway through the match when he rammed his Mercedes Benz directly through both the ring and cameramen, pinning Bob Ross against the wall.

As the fight was winding down, I jolted upright as obnoxious music blew the speakers out of the arena and none other than Hulk Hogan ran down, a streak of yellow and red shouting all manner of racist slurs while preparing to deliver a beat down. This was a common thing in wrestling, and it typically gets a huge reaction from the crowd, but I noticed this time they were dead quiet. No one made a peep, though the men fighting didn't seem to notice or care.

That's when I saw him.

There, in the front row, clutching the Necronomicon tightly, was Linus. I swear, I didn't know he was showing up, I promised he wouldn't when I started writing this....but there he was. My heart sank, the realization that my Trollpasta and "It's Your First Kiss, Charlie Brown" were in the same canon hit me like a weight. I knew what sort of dire consequences this had, how badly this realization would destroy the timeline.

My attention suddenly snapped back to the action when yet another Hulk Hogan ran out, wearing light blue, though his title card read "Hluk Chogan". Oh Jesus fuck. As he raced out and joined the fray, yet another ran out in red, "Chuck Frogan", and the battle almost became too intense. Soon, like parasitic aliens, deviations of the Hulkster began to crawl out of every crack and crevasse and the fight became so heated that I could slowly feel the fabric of reality itself beginning to loosen.

Tights were being torn left and right, people began dying by the dozens. Not even the announce team was safe, suffering from fatal head explosions like it that movie Scanners. In all honesty, the sad truth was that this show was actually unbelievably boring and a travesty, with most matches actually being held in the near dark (no, seriously. The power blew after only the first two matches.)

But because I had been so foolish as to cram this thing full of tropes that scream, "Hey!!! I'm a Trollpasta, too!!", I had indeed changed the course of history, causing the event dreaded amongst men to finally begin. My actions could not be undone, and it was the product I loved so much that would prove to be my own undoing.

This was it, wasn't it? I realized my second biggest mistake now. Maybe adding as many clich├ęs as possible wasn't enough, but recognizing the other Trollpasta as canon, it was what truly made the title of the Pay-Per-Vyew a self-fulfilling prophecy. The Analocalypse had begun. I saw now on the screen, the sheer amount of booty holes being poked by man-carrots was rising, pandemonium swelled and reached a climactic point that nearly brought the arena itself down, and Bob Ross himself found a moment to look directly into the camera....directly at me. Pointing a paintbrush in my direction, he locked eyes, and I could swear some kind of dramatic music played as he opened his mouth to speak....

That was when my forehead came crashing into the television screen, sending fragments and ludicrous amounts of blood in all directions. Flopping and flailing, I turned in a haze to see two police officers standing before me, both with ridiculously well kept mustaches and very suggestive short-shorts, brandishing nightsticks. I trembled. I knew what they had come for. Gulping, I prepared to reveal to them and the audience the plot twist of the story.

"This....this is about the shop keeper, isn't it..?" I said timidly as one of the officers grabbed my collar roughly. His face contorted into confusion. "About the....what?", he said, a puzzled look on his face. I explaind myself again, and he simply bellowed with laughter and replied, "Well, no....actually we knew you had instigated the Analocalypse of 2027 and came to get firsthand experience, but now that you've revealed you fucking killed someone then I guess we're bringing you in for that instead."

I lowered my head, still gushing an unreasonable amount of blood, as the officer cuffed me and shoved me in the direction of their customized hoverboard. Spending the next four years in prison for violating the rules of writing a coherent story and instigating the event that brought the world to it's knees, I was scheduled to be let out for being a good egg. But on the day of my planned release, I was stabbed in the neck with a sharpened end of a toothbrush, by none other than myself from Earth-3.

Do you end the story here, letting our beloved hero perish in prison, or want the alternate ending?? Turn to page 26 to find out!! (Just scroll down, asshole.)


 I lowered my head, and suddenly visions of the ripped tights and buttholes filled my head, including the devious smile of Bob Ross. In a fit of sudden energy, I shot up quickly, nailing the cop in the nose with the top of my head, and while he was distracted I yanked the nightstick from him and gave his buddy one good whack to the neck, causing his spine to shoot out the top of his head. I could feel my true Mary-Sue come out in me, the unstoppable power of a poorly written character surging through my veins.

As the first officer got back up, I bludgeoned him with the salami stick, yelling "WHO'S YOUR DADDY!?" to which he replied, "I dunno probably someone like Draco Malfoy." This response only served to drive my ambition further, but he wasn't down quite yet. He swung back, triggering a quick time event, but I pressed X just in time, and the force of his punch caused his fist to come all the way back around and land on his own face.

My thirst for intense violence and unnecessary brutality was not over, however. Holding the night stick tight, I swiftly left my lair and all my rat buddies behind in search for more people who have EVER heard of In Your House 8...and yes, that means you. As the Analocalypse raged out outside, I clenched my butt tightly and took a deep breath.

As I left, only one image remained on the shattered screen....that of Bob Ross, with a crooked smile and demented laugh...


Thursday, June 23, 2016

The Muppetocalypse.

It started with a blur. A blinding light, the bright shine of the sun shaking the muppets from their stupor. One by one, they begin to wake up, looking around in utter confusion. Kermit, Big Bird, Grover, Bert, Elmo, Cookie Monster, Zoe, The Count, Rosita, Ernie, Abby, Oscar, Snuffleupagus and Telly Monster. All stranded on a desolate island. All doomed to a life of isolation, abandoned by society.

Soon enough, they all slowly get to their feet. All around them, tall, lush trees surround them, with animals of all varieties chirping and singing. As they begin to chat amongst themselves, The Count takes notice of a small piece of paper partially buried in the sand. Catching everyone's attention, the Count reads aloud the content of the note:


It comes as no surprise to you at this point that you are far from home. This is quite intentional, as each and every one of you are about to partake in the most dangerous game of all. You will be pushed to your physical and mental limits, questioning your morals and sanity all the while. Please, do not object. You will only make yourself a bigger target. Your objective from here is clear.

You must survive, and you must take one another's lives to do so. Stop whining. You can't avoid it. Your miles away from civilization, from any kind of help, and supplies here are severely limited. "Friendship", "teamwork", and other meaningless words will not save you here. Either you actively remove one another, or you all starve, dying a painful, lonely death on a desolate island. 

However, should you follow through, and let your animal instincts take over (literally, for some of you.), then the remaining muppet will be rescued not long afterward, being rewarded a hefty sum...and complete control of Sesame Street. I will be watching closely, muppets. The best of luck to each of you.

They all stood in awe, completely shocked at the prospect of the "game" laid out before them. How could they do such a thing? Kill one another??? That's absolutely preposterous....but none of them shared a word. For a long, painful moment, they stood and stared. Kermit, being his usual sensible self, called for a meeting, a chance for all muppets to talk and handle the situation in a civil way.

There had to be another way around this, right?....right? But jone listened to Kermit. They all felt the tension rise. All of them, as if in unison, began to recall any time they were wronged by others, any time they felt defeated or ashamed thanks to the very people they now stood across from. There were no rules, no regulations or codes. Concerned faces turned into frowns, and then scowls.

Elmo met eyes with Kermit, and in that moment, only one thing was clear....old hatreds would be revived. 

Abby, the smallest of them, struck first, using all of her might to knock Oscar's trash can over. As he yelled explatives, chaos broke out. Some, like The Count, Rosita, Ernie, and Big Bird fled, while the others directly engaged one another in a combat fueled by unbridled rage and fury.

Grover had Bert on his back, straddling him and strangling him with all the might his little arms could muster. Bert was blessed with an abnormally large head however, and performed a javelin-like headbutt, knocking Grover to the sand. Abby climbed up Big Bird, biting and tearing, but to no avail, as the big yellow bird swatted her away with one hit.

Telly fled into the woods as Oscar finally managed get his trash can back up, and he cursed the day he decided to stay in the can forever. Meanwhile, Ernie's hiding spot would've provided him with a fair bit of safety, but his singing of the "rubber ducky" song would almost be his undoing. Catching Rosita's attention, she snatched Ernie up by his shirt, but he used the always effective pocket sand technique, able to escape her grasp.

Cookie Monster found Ernie, and began to frantically shake the orange muppet in a search for more cookies. Ernie was less concerned with Cookie Monster and more concerned with Snuffleupagus, who had been completely overtaken by his animal mind. Cookie Monster dropped Ernie, who once again fled, and squared off with the giant beast.

It began with a power struggle, with the advantage being tossed back and forth, but it was slowly becoming evident that Cookie Monster was slowly losing ground. As this was happening, Grover had disappeared into the woods, climbing a tree to keep out of harms way. He knew he wouldn't have a chance, and transformed into his alter ego, the powerful-yet-incompetent Super Grover.

Elmo could hear a struggle happen in the distance, and found a nice straight limb lying nearby. Using a sharp rock, he managed to create a very makeshift spear and head in the direction of the noise. Back with Cookie Monster and Snuffleupagus, Cookie Monster was getting too weak to hold his own, when he saw Elmo emerge from the distance with his spear. He screamed and begged Elmo to help, but Elmo simply watched on with cold, dead eyes as Cookie Monster's strength gave way, allowing Snuffleupagus to trample him to death.

Telly wasn't about to have any of this nonsense, and had the idea of hiding while everyone else kills one another. As soon as they take each other to hell, he'd simply crawl out and claim his prize. He began to overthink the situation, as he is apt to do, but was forced to make a decision quickly as Kermit was coming that way and fast, in hot pursuit of the Count. Telly managed to find a small opening, fitting his way inside and steadying his breathing. Now, it was time to play the waiting game. 

Grover was flying overhead while in his superhero form, observing for someone running by themselves. He wanted them isolated, so he could swoop in for the kill. He saw Kermit in hot pursuit of the Count, but decided to deal with them later. Not far beyond, Rosita had Ernie on the ropes, while Zoe was tryingher damnedest to lift Oscar's can above her head.

His mind was in a totally different place when a sudden whoosh noise caught him off guard, but his sudden descent to Earth let him know his cape had been ruined beyond repair. He twisted during his fall just in time to see a spear falling beside him, just out of reach. 

Elmo awaited eagerly for Grover to land nearby, to take the chance to finish him once and for all. However, his expression went from joy to worry as a small hand tapped him on the shoulder. Turning, there stood Kermit, angry at his inability to catch the Count. He hit Elmo with a hefty punch, and such the clash of icons began.

Bert saw Grover hit the ground, wounded but still alive, and started to move in his direction. This was his chance, his chance to take one out as a means of intimidation toward the others. His run was cut short when he ran head first into someone else. He regained his composure, ready to fight.

But it was Ernie.

It was his best friend of so many years, and he knew he could spare no one. Elsewhere, Snuffleupagus was exhausted. He knew from the start he was too big and slow to get far, but his defeat of Cookie Monster was enough for him. He would not have to wait for the sweet embrace of death for long, as he felt a small body scurry along his back, and the last sound he heard was Abby letting out a war cry before smashing him over the head with a sizeable rock. Her rampage had only just begun.

Kermit and Elmo were locked in a vicious standstill, delivering punch after punch after punch. Elmo was strong for his size, but Kermit was agile and quick. Elmo began to mock Kermit for his relationship with Ms. Piggie, causing the tiny frog to fly into a rage, knocking Elmo over.

Just across the way, Bert could hardly hold his composure as Ernie continually bested him with his mischievous tricks. Bert had always suspected Ernie had a dark side, but he was not expecting a full blown psychopath that his friend had now become. Grover managed to shake himself from his stupor in time to see Bert and Ernie locked in battle, and decided that a temporary truce with Ernie might be beneficial as a means of retaliation against Bert for head butting him.

Grover ran full speed, kicking Bert in the stomach with full force. After landing a few more blows, enough to wear Bert out too much to fight, he held him up and screamed at a stunned Ernie to finish the job. Ernie didn't hesitate, reaching up and breaking his former best friend's neck. In a psychotic delusion, Ernie ran off before Grover had a chance to say much.

Almost instantly afterward, Abby lunged from behind Grover, burying a jagged rock into the back of his leg. She covered Grover's mouth as he screamed, and quickly slit his throat before he could make more noise. Her next target? Both Kermit and Elmo, both of whom she could very clearly hear nearby. 

The Count stopped, panting, and hid behind a tree. Big Bird was flying above them somewhere, and he wasn't about to make himself a target. Something else caught his attention, though, as he heard light breathing in a small opening nearby. Squinting, he could see Telly, crouched low. Sneaking foward, he heard Telly shuffle and yell loudly.

The purple monster had accidentally disturbed the nest of giant, flaming, vicious, relentless, poisonous wasps, which were now completely stripping Telly to the bone in the midst of an angry, droning buzz. Count didn't really care at this point if Big Bird saw him, he just wanted the hell out of there. 

Kermit had victory at hand. He had nearly beaten Elmo into submission, with the killing blow so easy to perform. He made the fatal mistake however of delivering a villainous speech, allowing the demented Abby time to run up and cut off one of Kermit's noodle arms. Disarmed, Abby watched with glee as Elmo jumped on the opportunity, turning the tables and strangling Kermit to death.

Abby's celebration (and rampage) was cut short when another hand grabbed her tiny leg, yanking her back. Turning around revealed Rosita, who had up to this point kept mostly to the ouskirts of the battlefield. She tried to hit Rosita's hand with her large rock, only to have it wrenched from her hands.

Rosita had always hated the stupid smug grin Abby had to offer for any given situation, and used the opportunity to erase it from existence by beating the small muppets head into a red stain. 

Meanwhile, Zoe wandered the beach, entirely unaware the rest were fighting. She was swept out to sea.

As Elmo stood and screamed his victory into the sky, Big Bird noticed. Having just eaten the helpless Oscar, Big Bird tested his aiming skills by dropping the trash can on Elmo, giving the poor red mascot a quick, clean knockout. He then moved in, feasting on Elmo's body to appease the Dark Lord Baphomet.

Tearing part of his shirt off, the Count snuck up behind Ernie, choking him. Count didn't realize, however, that Ernie was weilding the jagged rock previously possessed by Abby, and he wasted no time in jamming it continuously into Count's side.

Down below, Rosita confronted Big Bird head on, using thick vinces as a lasso to keep the bird grounded. As she fought Big Bird, Count finally snapped Ernie's neck, and decided to capitalize on the moment, using the fact that both Rosita and Big Bird were distracted.

He ran in full force, battering the both of them, allowing his newfound confidence to bring victory to his horizon. Soo enough, Big Bird was completely lifeless, an unmoving mass of yellow feathers. But where was Rosita? Count had not "counted" on a fatal weakness, though, as Rosita grabbed hold of his cape, pulling him within range. She was weakened, but so was Count, putting their fight on an equal plane.

Count smiled and confidently informed his opponent that he was a vampire, and unkillable by anything but a stake or holy items. It didn't matter much to him, all he had to do was take this small minty-blue muppet out and claim victory for himself, and began to daydream perhaps about a new castle.

Rosita had taken a lesson in Van Helsing 101, however. Much earlier, she had found Elmo's abandoned spear, and knowing Count was an eventual enemy, broke part off and took it with her. Brandishing it with her free hand, she reeled back, and thrusted as hard a she could, sending the sharpened wood through Count's chest.

Count would have an entire eternity to curse the concepts of Chekhov's Gun. While Rosita was never a big time muppet, not on the level of Kermit or Elmo, she wasn't a total buttmonkey like Telly or Zoe either. Her ability to slide right through the cracks as the others allowed their egos to fuel their fighting, she simply watched and waited.

Now, Sesame Street was hers. And no one was there to stand in opposition. 

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

New Projects, the future, and nonsense

So as assblastingly busy as I've been recently, it's a tiny bit hard to keep more than one blog up and running at a time. After all, I have this collection of my short stories as well as this one, that acts like an online journal for me. These three have been very hard to maintain, not to mention my other social media platforms through which I shove my art in people's faces.

Does this mean this blog is to be abandonded? No, nor will any of the others. Post frequency can and will increase over time...which brings me to my big point.

This very blog, Neon Sunrise, will be undergoing some MAJOR renovations, including a potential name change (still not sure). New layout, format, etc. This thing will stop looking like a major piece of shit soon enough. That being said, I'm going to start a few even bigger changes around this blog. Firstly, a good friend of mine (until they give themselves a proper pseudonym, we'll call them Rubber Ducky.) will be joining me to write on their interests and musings, and hopefully others will to.

Together we will try our best to push this thing into overdrive, and hopefully hit 13,000 total views sometime soon!! This blog will continue to post the same stuff, with Rubber Ducky's input as well, and I'm hoping it will bring this hunk of junk some much needed variety. Keep an eye peeled! I mean it!!!



Friday, June 17, 2016

The Harrowing Tale of Zoe Q. Roundtree

Imagine Zoe goes to the refrigerator to get a glass of milk. Suddenly, another Zoe comes up from behind and warns her past self not to drink the milk, as it's secretly poisoned. The original Zoe asks how her future self knows, and before she can answer, a third Zoe runs in from around the corner.

The 3rd Zoe asserts that the second is a fake, a robot sent back in time to trick original Zoe into not drinking the milk that would save her life. Original Zoe once again asked impatiently as to why the milk would save her. Before an answer could be given, Zoe number 4 runs in from behind number 3 with a pistol and shoots either Zoe 1 or 2.

After one is shot, Zoe 3 grabs the milk and tells 4 she had planned this from the start, and SHE was the robot trying to make Zoe 1 drink it, as it really was posioned. Zoe 4 only laughs and tells Zoe 3 that she didn't believe her. Just as she said this, Zoe's 5 and 6 appear, fighting one another. Zoe 4 grabs 3's gun and shoots 6 in the forehead.

Confused, 4 asks 5 why there are so many of her. As 5 went to explain the mystery Zoe reveals herself as Zoe 2, claiming that 5 is trying to buy time, and that she's been through this exact same scenario. At some point, she recruited the help of 3 and 6 to help her in a new scheme, and 2 had followed them to both stop Zoe 1 from drinking the milk AND to stop 3, 5 and 6 from realizing their plan.

Zoe 5 and 2 get in an argument while 4 turns to question 3 about the plan they were all trying to pull. 3 elaborates that it was a convoluted setup to gather all the Zoe's across the multiverse to one area, though she doesn't get time to explain because Zoe 7 sneaks up from behind and slices 3's throat open. Zoe 5 takes notice and rushes 7, but 2 comes to 7's defense and together they beat 5 mercilessly.

4 runs in to break it up and talk about the current situation rationally. Suddenly, what seems like Zoe 8 climbs down from the cupboard with two pistols, shooting every Zoe except 2. 2 questions her sanity, and 8 explains that she is actually the original Zoe. She knew exactly what was going to happen all along, and that she was warned far in advance by Zoe 9. They devise a plan, and decide to lure the unexpecting Zoe 10 to stand in for the original.

Zoe 1 then simply waited for the rest to be caught off guard so she could kill them all and end the madness. 2 asks 1 how 9 knew this was all going to happen, and 1 stops for a moment to think about it. Come to think of it, she was never told how 9 was privy to this situation, as 1 simply followed the orders. 2 takes this moment to pick up the other gun and point it at 1, smiling slyly.

2 reveals she's actually 9, who used the fact that they all look exactly alike to her advantage by posing as Zoe 2 and starting this whole charade. Why? She knew the reader of this very story would be confused beyond belief at this point, and used this as a means of keeping them distracted while she was busy wiping the woman we know as Zoe from the face of any timeline, just now finishing the job by putting a bullet between Zoe 1's eyes.

She has accomplished her mission here, and she will strike again. Another person, another place, another time. She will simply take another form and start this process all over again,very slowly and methodically wiping out the entirety of the multiverse as we know it.

Or will she?

History is always doomed to repeat itself, but tampering with time and space is a very dangerous thing. As these words are being written, Zoe 9 learns this the hard way as a bullet finds its way through her chest, fired from the gun of Zoe 2,099 from an alternate dimension.

Moral of the story?

ALWAYS take into account alternate planes of existence.

Thursday, June 2, 2016

You've Got To Be JOKING!! One of Joker's Identities Possibly Revealed

With the launch of DC's brand new Rebirth, we got a very startling revelation that I really don't think any of us saw coming. In a previous issue of Justice League, covering the "Darkseid War", Batman got his hands on the Mobius Chair (think of it as Wikipedia for the entire Universe), where he got to ask it one very important question....what was the Joker's true identity? See what we got below:

That's right, we don't get an answer, at least not one that Batman accepts. For a long time fans pondered what that could possibly have meant, but now we have the answer to what exactly the chair told Batman....and the true answer might surprise you.

Yes, that's correct. There are THREE Jokers running wild in the DC Universe. If this has always been or is a new thing is....well, entirely unexplained at this point in time, but I want to instead focus on the possible men behind the makeup, and this post (the first of three) will cover what I believe to be one of the most shocking DC plot twists in recent memory.

See that Joker on the lefthand side? He looks like a dead ringer for the Golden Age variant of the character from the '40s and '50s, absolutely, but who is he? Personally, I feel like this version of the Joker is none other than....

The Comedian, from Watchmen.

WAAAAAAIT. LET ME EXPLAIN. Rather than explain the entirety of Watchmen (you can read about that here), I'll just give you a brief summary of the character: Eddie Blake started as a masked vigilante in the early '40s, partaking in paramilitary events going all the way to his apparent "death" in 1985. (I know 61 sounds old, don't worry, I'll get to that.) So what makes this guy any kind of Joker, as opposed to an old, washed up vigilante?

What kind of person is Eddie? In the words of character Hollis Mason, he was a "particularly brutal and vicious young man". He is also described as being "deliberately amoral" and has "little to no regard for human life". Does that sound in any way familiar? Not yet? Maybe? You'll get what I mean in just a bit. Eddie also has quite a bad track record, as he once sexually assaulted and brutally beat the character Silk Spectre, just because she refused his sexual advances.

Much like you'd expect Joker to, Eddie displayed very selfish and individualistic behavior (note all the times that Joker has saved his own rear at the expense of others). He served in World War II, which was described to have scarred him psychologically. This would account for an eventual descent into being someone like the Joker, eh? On top of that, like Joker, he is absolutely willing to take a human life without a second thought, as he shot seven Japanese POW's on a bet. That's it.

In this universe, it's also shown that he himself assassinated John F. Kennedy, just because he was told to do it. Now, I think you've got an idea of what kind of apprehensible guy he is. But the similarities to Joker don't stop at vaguely connecting personality traits, no. Check out his original outfit:

Green and purple, much like the persona he would later adopt. Not to mention the little smiley face belt buckle in the center. Sounds like a foreshadowing, no? Next, let's talk a little bit about the Golden Age Joker so we get a better idea of why his personality falls in line with that of Eddie Blake.

I chose this specific Joker on account of the fact that he seems to be around the same body type and stature as Eddie is seen to be later in his life, and because the other two Jokers are just so damn skinny they would just not fit the bill. Golden Age Joker sticks out amongst the crowd, because unlike his counterparts, he is shown to mostly lack the mirth and merriment shown by his later incarnations. No, this Joker is shown to be a cold, remorseless killer....for the sake of being regard for human life...starting to sound familiar? Thought so.

On top of all this, we have a DIRECT quote from Comedian himself:

"Once you realize what a joke everything is, being the Comedian is the only thing that makes sense."

This is EXACTLY the same kind of worldview shared by the Joker, who has found his refuge and only way to make sense of the world in madness. What might've driven Comedian to full madness? His death. Wait, if he's dead, how could he be Joker? Rebirth just started, pal. No one stays dead in comics, plus if Jason Todd (Robin #2) can come back to life because Superboy PUNCHED EXISTENCE, then I suppose anything is possible.

With all of the given evidence, I feel like this theory drives a hard bargain. Perhaps since Rebirth DOES make Watchmen 100% canon, Eddie somehow lived, became one of three Jokers and developed a fixation on Batman. Hell, Batman does stand in direct opposition to pretty much everything Eddie did. 61 sounds old for a villain, but again....this is comic book logic. Anything is possible.

If you are STILL not convinced, to me the single most damning piece of evidence that seals the deal on this theory without question is the following panel from Rebirth #1:

Yes, your eyes do not deceive you. Batman finds the same smiley face pin worn by the Comedian in the Bat Cave. DC, I feel like I've got your number.

Sunday, May 29, 2016

I Made Super Mario Go To Hell

While reading the rest of Prince of Pain to post on later (refer to the last post), I wondered: with a SNES emulator, a Super Mario World ROM, and a multitude of cheats, what would happen if every last cheat were activated simultaneously? Perhaps wacky shenanigans, involving a multitude of colors and enemies flying everywhere? No. Instead, what I got was odd, metaphysical strangeness that seemed to break the very properties of gaming itself. I wouldn't classify it as "creepy", but bizarre. If you want creepy, here you go:

There you go. Have you gotten your fix? Anybut, I've caught a few screenshots to compile in (mostly) chronological order to show you all here. You have my word that these are in no way manipulated photos, but legitimate screenshots documenting my bizarre travels in the world of Super Mario. Let's-A Go!

Weirdness began immediately after the Nintendo screen, with a portion of the title screen cut. Mario didn't end up on screen but rather, moments after starting, I was whisked away to the screenshot you'll see next. The transition was accompanied by the "woosh" sound made when you go throthrough a secret exit.

I was pulled up to this starry screen, an auto-scroll level littered with Yoshi coins and regular coins alike. I had to restart and come back to this screen, as falling off simply crashed the game. I went back to the internet and found a cheat that allowed for infinite jumping so I could keep up with the auto-scroll. What I was greeted with next was a complete background change:

Mario, mind you, is only facing the opposite direction because I used the spin jump button to get myself over there. Yes, in case you are wondering, the arrow is there in the original game.

Next, instead of the overworld, I found myself in Yoshi's House where I was able to move farther right than normal, as seen above, with some portions like the little birds or fire misplaced. The speaker box that gives you hints didn't work and the only way I got out was to run back and forth until I glitched through the floor.

A few moments of a blank screen later and the overworld finally came up. Mario had one life (with an unexplained "E" with it), and had Luigi as his upper left hand icon. The level on the far left is somehow completed and without a doubt the most bizarre portion was Mario wearing a halo usually only seen, obviously, during game over. I feel like now is a good time to mention that no matter how many retries, the game would never let me move past the water level (the one just above Mario in the photo), so I often ended up repeating the first few as I explored.

Starting the level, the background was blank and Mario was a weird jumble of colors. I tried a few times, but Mario I guess refused to stay on Yoshi for more than a few moments. Enemies were nonexistent for the last half of the level save for the Chargin' Chuck guarding the exit.

I retried the same level, and this time little Mario stayed in a sort of "crucifix" position with his arms outstretched and moved foward with no walking or running animation. Only those bushes with apples were present save for the exit goal.

Moving to the level on the other side of Yoshi's house, I was once again Mario with Luigi's color pallette. It was pretty normal, and yes, enemies were present, just not in the shot I took. All was well until I took a wrong spin jump at Albuquerque, causing Mario/Luigi to get stuck, freezing the rom. After I restarted, things...didn't get any better.

Reached the overworld like normal, but as you can see it suffers from color differences, plus choosing the level opposite the one Mario is on (the aforementioned water level) in the pic brought this screen:

Just Mario and surrounding objects silhoutted against the lack of proper background. If I were the type to over analyze, which I am, I would bet this is symbolic. That's just me though.

I'll call the next foray into the same level "Trials of Luigi", because despite being the longest I've spent in one, I simply stayed as Luigi during most of the entire level. Starting the level caused Luigi to swim along the ground, somewhat spazzing out when I tried jumping. Again, zero enemies. Not to mention that weird "N" next to the lives count.

Then suddenly, running around some caused Luigi to turn small and don his fire flower costume, while seemingly driving a nonexistent car. Very glitchy. Despite having his fire flower suit, he didn't possess that power up.

And then, in the only very brief Mario appearance, Luigi running top speed glitched into Mario's "burned" sprite, clipping pretty violently through the floor. Slowing down turned me back into driving Luigi. Those eyes unsettle me.

Luigi then came to a dead halt, spending some time kinda....stuck there. Looks almost like he's slumping over, yeah? Either way, he snapped out of it eventually, temporarily darting foward really fast for a brief moment. Yeah, I don't get it either.

Enough running gave Luigi both his cape and fire flower suit, but it didn't amount to much considering the goal had no barrier to break, signifying the end of a I just waited until I ran out of time. Thus, the Trials of Luigi Saga was over.

Back to Mario, I was only permitted to play the water level once. Immediately upon starting, discolored Mario was swallowed by the giant keyhole just like he would if he had just found the secret exit. Warping through it brings him to....

...the literal next screen of the same level, with the same Mario colors from the beginning, no background and silhouette Yoshi. It was pretty difficult but I was indeed able to beat this one fully.

Returning to the other level proved to be the worst decision of the whole experience, as I was just greeted by nothing but an entire level of what you see above. Everything was jumbled, constantly moving, and yes, with a slightly red tint. Cheesy, I know. I tried to navigate this madness to maybe reach some kind of end, and an end I got, but it was just this:

And that's it. Our adventure comes to an end with a red lined screen with a low humming noise. It has a reasonable explanation, since I'm an asshole who likes breaking games, but interesting nonetheless. Make of all this what you will, but I hope you enjoyed it regardless!