The Mystery of The Batwoman...1968

 You know, for as long as I've come back to this blog over the years (just to prove to you foul scoundrels I'm not dead), I always try to do so with a topic or facet of pop culture that I personally find interesting or unique, particularly anything of the obscure or niche variety. With this in mind, I bring to your attention a movie buried in the deep recesses of low-budget Mexican exploitation cinema, the incomparable BATWOMAN.

Bold! Noble! Enchanting! Audacious! Invincible!

As the keen observers among us might already know, this.... wasn't officially licensed by DC Comics. Instead, this late '60s production is something of a "worlds colliding" type situation, as it's a perfectly silly blend of two of the era's biggest fads, depending on which area of the world you lived in. In 1968 the Adam West Batman television series was on its last leg as it limped through it's third and final season (that is if you don't count New Batman Adventures...but why would you want to??), though burnout had not quite reached other parts of the globe outside of the US, as evidenced by the eagerness with which Filipino entrepreneurs endeavored to use Batman in a good slew of loose adaptations around the same time, each wackier and more over the top than the last.

The same mentality regarding adaptations, then, can be reasonably assumed to be the modus operandi of the men and women that saw The Batwoman through to it's completion. Now, concerning where Mexico was cinematically while this Bat-Mania was still ongoing; In the late '60s, masked folk heroes like El Santo and Blue Demon were captivating the Mexican public's attention through their daring (and amusingly cheap) exploits on the silver screen, battling Universal horrors to aliens and robots and beyond. It stood to reason the camp and colorful world of Batman and comic books in general would translate quite well to these garish affairs, and this is where director René Cardona and writer Alfredo Salazar hit the nail directly on the head and tapped into a force of surreal, bizarre, bad filmmaking that becomes all at once equal parts stupid and highly captivating.

So, concerning the plot...well, it's pretty straightforward, so please don't blame me for sounding relatively brief with my description of this film. Robert Cañedo plays Dr. Eric Williams, a nutter of scientist who is harvesting the glands of wrestlers (?) in order to revive a sea creature. To do...his....bidding, I guess? Fuck man, I dunno. Either way, the mad Doctor is hurting Batwoman's (Maura Monti) breadwinning considering she herself is a wrestler and it would be awful hard to wrestle without opponents, so it's up to our scantily-clad caped crusader to get to the bottom of this mystery. As you might expect, this film's greatest strength lies in that this framing provides a metaphorical jungle gym for various shenanigans to pollute our television screens in the most glorious way possible. 

Batwoman punches, kicks, throws and awkwardly tumbles her way through hordes of half-assing villains and goons, all who try and fail to keep our heroine down. When Batwoman isn't out crusading, scenes alternate between Batwoman further investigating the proceedings and Dr. Williams hamming it up to the extreme, chewing his scenery and making sure the jabronis in the nosebleed seats could understand that "evil scientist" was his gimmick. It's kind of odd, charming, and amusing all at the same time. I appreciated Batwoman's more rough n' tumble approach to brawling, far too often (and in the proper Batman show) any time a woman fought her "moves" we're typically relegated to graceful, dance-like flittering, a "cutesy' way of fighting that almost unbearably reeks of it's era. Batwoman, on the other hand, approaches combat with the same level of readiness and courage of any of her contemporaries in the likes of El Santo.

Is Batwoman revolutionary? No. Is it good cinema? Also no. But despite it not having an original thought in it's head, this film has undeniable charm. A knowing spirit and an energy that makes the proceedings feel light and fun, it embodies the same cheeky attitude that the Adam West show pioneered and perfects the goofier aspects of Mexican superhero cinema, a marriage of concepts that results in a deliriously entertaining and fun film that isn't afraid to boldly present itself as a harrowing action/horror/adventure, and it's this genuine heart that makes The Batwoman worthy of a movie night.

It's kind of astonishing how little this film is really talked about online. It has references in places that highlight these kinds of movies, but it has no Wikipedia. No TV Tropes. It's IMDB page is sparse, as is it's Rotten Tomatoes. I understand that should this film get more attention there's every chance DC will finally bring the hammer down and instigate legal action, and then again they may not. All I ask of you is that if you have about 80 minutes to spare and maybe a bowl or two to kill, The Batwoman is a great time and you'll be left wondering why you didn't see it sooner. It's on Tubi!!

7.5/10

Treehouse of Horror I Review

 Welcome, dear reader. Allow me to take you on a ghoulish, fantastical and sensationally spine-tingling journey through the wild and unpredictable world of the Simpson's annual spookfest...the Treehouse of Horror!! Now, to save what little brains I have left, we won't be covering every single entry into this ever-expanding macabre world, instead I want to narrow the focus to the start of the tradition through what most people consider the "Golden Age" of The Simpsons, more accurately seasons 2 through 8. Sure, you could argue I should add or take away a season or two, but I chose these seasons in particular because they are the ones I remember most fondly growing up. I'm not picking "the best" episode nor am I looking for the scariest or funniest, I look at this as an exercise to put into perspective the trajectory taken by the show's annual Halloween special during the height of it's popularity.

That said, let's go ahead and take a step beyond the fabric of our reality and venture into the dark unknown, and ascend those steps into our first entry...

TREEHOUSE OF HORROR I

(Airdate, October 24th 1990)

"Bad Dream House"

-The very first segment of the very first Treehouse of Horror (or "The Simpson's Halloween Special" as it's introduced) is so much fun. "Bad Dream House" manages to both poke fun at haunted house tropes but also execute the concept very evenly and pepper in jokes to keep the momentum afloat. The whole segment nails the essence they were striving for so well that it's easy to lose yourself in just how spooky this feels, and I love that. 

This segment was also very strong in it's character moments for me, Marge straight up losing her cool towards the end is nothing short of hilarious and sort of cathartic thanks in no small part to the great voice work. We also see shades of a Homer from an era long since passed, he's dense and stubborn but nowhere near as almost brain dead as he would become in later seasons. Overall, this felt like a very solid foundation to build on and a good standalone segment in it's own right.

"Hungry Are The Damned"

-Hey look, it's the one and only dolly zoom in on The Simpsons! I mention that first and foremost because I think that one moment embodies the spirit of this whole thing. Not a particularly "spooky" segment, but "Hungry Are The Damned" is pound for pound the funniest of the three. Kang and Kotos are iconic, and after watching this segment it's very easy to understand why. I was laughing hard enough to struggle for air watching the "How to Cook for Forty Humans" joke, and their spaceship needing a second tractor beam to lift Homer was a close second.

 I thought the camera angle where Homer and Marge's heads looked like they were on the platters was a pretty innovative visual gag, and is a fine example of just how darned layered The Simpsons could be with it's jokes. Funnier than the first, not quite as stylistic as the third, this one serves it's purpose well as a fun and engaging middle segment.

"The Raven"

-I will come right out and say it, this segment is beautiful. Jam-packed with visual gags (Marge's hair needing a second picture frame, anyone?) and snappy jokes yes, but also masterful in it's angles and moody color choices, it makes for a viewing experience that gets you right into that spooky spirit. The narration by James Earle Jones is what really sells this for me, if I'm being completely honest.

 His sophisticated tones are a perfect match for Poe's words, making for a downright mesmerizing narration of one of Poe's most famous works. All in all, "The Raven" is the perfect balance between being The Simpsons and being a genuinely stellar adaptation, capping off an already good Halloween special with a great segment all around. Oh, and Friday the 13th reference!

Quoth the Raven..."Eat my shorts."

The dust has settled on our very first outing into the spooky world of Treehouse of Horror, and I feel like we walked away with a sizeable haul of candy tonight, Ladies and Gents. For their very first endeavor into the world of Halloween specials, I think The Simpsons stands out as having nailed the concept right off the bat. Is this first Treehouse of Horror the best ever?? Probably not, but ultimately that is for you to decide, there is a lot of great stuff in the long history of the special. That said, best or not, it's hard to ignore as being leagues better than it had any right to be. 

Jason vs Satan!! Well, Satan's Six. [REVIEW]

Jason Voorhees has always had a complicated relationship with comic books. From squaring off with Freddy (again) and Evil Dead's Ash, then facing off against those two again, to fighting Leatherface (I'll move onto that later), to clocking Dexter in his stupid face (serial killer, not cartoon) and even fighting his future self (ok what hell??), Jason has seen his fair share of fights on the page. But what happens when Jason decides to phone it in one day? Well, pull up a chair and allow me to tell you the tale of...

JASON VS. SATAN'S SIX!!

I know, I know. "Who the hell is Satan's Six?" Well, young one, I didn't know either before writing this. Apparently, Satan's Six is (was) a Topp's Comics 14 issue series helmed by surprisingly big names, including Brian Bolland (Batman; The Killing Joke) and Jack Kirby, who is...well, JACK KIRBY. Let me read off to you the description shamelessly pulled from ComicVine:

 "A team of agents collected by Odious Kamodius(?) created for the sole purpose of causing chaos in the mortal plane. But the continued incompetence of the members always seemed to be their downfall...and humanities benefit."

 Coolio. Now that we have shitty Satanic Avengers properly introduced, we have to wonder: where, when, and how, does Mr. Voorhees fit into this? Aside from that bitchin' cover art? Well, basically, I hate to inform you this post won't be very long because the answer to my question is that Jason basically has fuck-all to do with this. Let me show you his grand entrance:

*Voorhees. Maybe it's just because I'm a giant nerd for these films, but it really bothers me, like really bothers me, that they misspelled his name. Also reeks of laziness, to be honest. So, Jason shows up, and starts trying to do what he does best.

So Jason starts swinging his tool at this guy and makes loud disapproving grunts when all he's subjected to are shitty jokes. They talk a bit more about how Jason is cool, he likes killing, etc. AND DON'T FORGET TO CATCH 'JASON GOES TO HELL' IN THEATERS THIS SUMMER!!! Then shitty Satanic Avengers decide they want to jump Jason. Because by the time Jason Goes to Hell came around, it's not like eight other people had already attempted just that.

After a scuffle, they basically decide that Jason is Jason and fuck that. Then, well...then, it happens. After a culmination of five whole pages worth of rock 'em sock 'em disappointment, they pull the rug out from under us and tell us this whooole shindig was a sleazy, dishonest marketing ploy to get you to pick up the comic. No, they literally tell you that this was a marketing strategy to get you to pick up the goddamned comic. 

So, I think I'll put this one to rest on that little factoid. Topp's stuck it's middle finger right in your dumb face because you, as a fan of Friday the 13th, thought it would be soooo cool to pick up a comic with Jason (a rarity, unless you wanted Topp's own comic of JGTH) but no. You got bamboozled because they couldn't sell their shitty satanic avengers comic for one red cent otherwise.

Fuck you, Topps.

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 clichés 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.)




























ALTERNATIVE SEQUENCE OF EVENTS THAT SIGNIFY THE END OF THE STORY:

 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...

*cringe*

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 level....so 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!

Mega Man vs. Quint: The Fight That Altered Time

Everyone knows Mega Man, Capcom's flagship character of yesteryear. For years this franchise marked it's place in history with a unique style of gameplay and a quirky cast of characters. Typically, Mega Man consists of jumping around 8 levels, fighting bosses and getting new special abilities. But do you remember Quint, (A play on Quintet), the Mega Man character that time forgot? What if I told you that he and he alone held the key to Mega Man's future and continued existence??

First introduced in the obscure gameboy game Mega Man II, he was presented as a sort of sub-boss, showing up just before fighting Dr. Wily. He wielded a goofy-looking jackhammer called the Sakugarne, and typically attacked with such, and fled before the fight could be finished. So who is this guy? What's his story? To start, here's an excerpt from the Mega Man II instructional booklet to help set the stage:

As you can tell, 37.426 years into the future is not only extremely specific but where our story starts: Dr. Wily kidnaps Mega Man from the future, repackages him as Quint, and came back to the present with him. Dr. Wily's line of thinking is that if anyone can beat Mega Man, it's Mega Man, right?? What the Doctor (and this game) failed to realize is tampering with the timeline comes with confusing and potentially catastrophic consequences.

The long and short of it is...no matter the outcome, it's 100% impossible for Quint to win this fight. Physically, yes, but even accounting for all the variables (within reason and excluding X factors like "they both die" or "someone interferes"), Quint is unable to win in the long run, technically making him the least AND most dangerous character in the whole franchise.

The biggest problem with this fight is that we find ourselves stuck in a time loop. Because Quint is Mega Man from the future, he can't kill Mega Man on account of the fact that eliminating his past self will cause Quint to inadvertently commit suicide. Killing Mega Man will kill him, and thus erase both of their existences and will further alter the time stream.

So either both die, or Mega Man gets caught in an infinite time loop where he is always destined to become Quint in almost 40 years. The reason this loop is destined to be infinite is because Quint chooses to flee. Mega Man is given no indication that Quint is his future counterpart, and therefore doesn't have any incentive to actively try to alter the future. And thus, history really is doomed to repeat itself.

To take a more philosophical approach, can we really say that Mega Man and Quint are the same person? This is a riff on a philosophy question often referred to as the "The Malfunctioning Transporter". Sure, Mega Man and Quint are the exact same molecule by molecule, but can they be considered identical? They are, after all, two beings from different times that occupy the same space, physical entities that are in theory the same but individual nonetheless.

They are, however, both capable of independent thought. One might argue that since they are robots, they are both only able to come to the most logical conclusion, and due to this they will always agree. But remember, in the Mega Man universe, they are programmed with free will. Imagine their programming like a large box, and they are able to do anything within that box, and inside that box is the closest possible approximation of free will that science can manage.

On the other hand, both have the same right to truthfully call themselves the same person: in theory, they are. But who, at that point, is the real Mega Man? Both, or neither? That's a question you'll have to decipher for yourself. Welp, I think I made a mistake. Time has been fractured to the point where the world just turned into melting Salvador Dali clocks. Whoops.

Hope you enjoy your altered reality which has very likely been transformed into an irreparable hellscape!!

DC Comics Showcase '94: "The Great Pretender" Review

So, when I was a wee lad of around 10, my family and I always went to the local Movie Gallery (when that was still a thing), and always rent one or two flicks to watch over the weekend. It was great fun on it's own, but Movie Gallery offered even more that grabbed my interest: Near the front counter, they had a small rack of comic books, mostly old ones.

Being an avid Bat-Fanatic, my little eye was drawn to this very comic, the first of 12 issues under the banner of "Showcase '94", that featured something that would leave quite the impression on my young mind that shaped my view on Batman and the Joker forevermore.

You see, issues one and two featured a story called "The Great Pretender", and showed the depths of Joker's insanity, and what sort of disturbing fantasies and dark delusions he experiences on a potentially regular basis. In this story, the Joker, now named Joe White, wakes up in an alternate reality, a normal man with a normal life, complete with a wife and a boring job.

His face is not marred by the tragedies that cause him to evolve into the Joker, and it seems as if everything he knew in life had changed. This is very curious to me, as we see that when he isn't technically "The Joker", Joker simply doesn't know or understand how to conduct himself. He's so used to being his normal self that being someone else forces him to become intrinsic, to question himself and his surroundings.

However, the Joker is only happy and content in his element, so what does he do? He does the only thing he knows how, and in this case, uses his new body to create a close approximation to what his real world counterpart looks like, complete with green hair, makeup, and red lips. I like seeing this variety of Joker, just a guy with a painted face and no resources aside from a psychotic mind. It's interesting to see how Joker would handle things just by himself.

As a sort of breaking in his new body, Joker takes to murdering his wife, who's name he fails to remember (despite just realizing she existed) in a bit of black humor. After this, he starts to explore his surroundings to see that Gotham has been transformed into a large palace, a twisted landscape that will soon become the stuff of nightmares.

Joker finds out that this reality is ruled by a large, monstrous version of himself dubbed "King Joker". However, King Joker's rule is challenged by this world's Batman, an equally massive bat human hybrid, somewhat like Man-Bat, but moreso man than bat. Since Joker refers to King Joker as "the Pretender", I will do the same for the sake of convenience. I also couldn't grab screenshots concerning how Joker came into the presence of Bat-Beast and the Pretender, but he ends up in such a predicament, and fast.

Once again, we see more of Joker's inner monologue relaying his thoughts and emotions to the audience. The best way to describe him in this story is a fish out of water, as his status in his world would never allow him to take a backseat role as he has here. The art is wild, and beautifully surreal and is just as equally creepy. I also find it interesting that Joker refers to his counterpart as "the Pretender". Even in this world, where he's far outclassed, his ego won't allow for competition, huh?

The battle of giants begins, and the Pretender shows off his impressive power by trying to bury his opponent in a literal sea of toys, and Bat-Beast responds with what appears to be flying above the avalanche. Joker becomes even more discontented with this as he comments that the Pretender has no flair to his actions, no extra finesse to how the real Joker would handle this kind of situation. Things will only get more bizarre from here.

While the Pretender watches on, Bat-Beast addresses Joker directly, taking note of his face paint and questioning whether or not he is in alliegance with the Pretender. Joker, able to recover a gun, tells Bat-Beast that he is not the Pretender's ally, but he's not on anyone's side and considers the both of them enemies. Joker starts to chide himself for not acting as he usually does, and instead of expressing doubt, wants to fire the gun without second thought. 

Nervous, the Joker actually misses by a long shot, sending the chandelier above him crashing down. Just able to dodge and ever the one to quip during even the most stressful situations, Joker finds a convenient dagger he intends to use next. He's unfortunately disarmed immediately afterward as Bat-Beast grabs him by the waist, calling Joker a "gnat". Interesting that the most dangerous and formidable villain in the entire mainstream DC Universe is considered so far beneath this monster that he refers to him simply as a "gnat".

Bat-Beast thrashes Joker around some more, and Joker's doubts on the situation only grow stronger. It's a new feeling for him, and one that unsettles him deeply. Once again, Joker tries to boost his own confidence by reminding himself that Batman in any variation is still his archenemy, and that should he be who he thought he was, he would do whatever it took to win. As he's thinking this, he grabs a fallen lance from the wall as Bat-Beast pounces him.

Lifting it just in time, the lance spears Bat-Beast clean through the chest, and Joker firmly asserts that he is the true Joker, regardless of time period or appearance. This is demonstrated with his giddily nonsensical phrases, his excitement growing as he exclaims that he has finally killed a Batman. It appears however, that Joker once again misses home. Despite technically killing Batman, he's simply disappointed by the fact that it's not his Batman, but a mythical creature far beyond his understanding.

With Bat-Beast dead, Joker takes to grabbing a torch from the wall and exploring some, likely taking a stroll to take his troubled mind off of the intense occurances. Heading down a long flight of spiral stairs, we get to see just how observant and amusing the Joker's banter with himself actually is. Despite having just killed a beast, he makes a passing remark about the dilapidated state of his surroundings as if nothing major had even happened.

In the most disturbing scene of the book, Joker discovers that the room below the stairs houses some important figures in the Bat-Universe. King Joker has seemingly taken and held captive Batman's allies, as well as a few enemies. Jim Gordon, Catwoman and Harvey Bullock look haggard, and beg for the keys. Two Face is stoic, his hair having grown long, implying they've been confined to this dwelling for a long time.

Tim Drake, who fans will recognize as Robin, stalks around his cell, emaciated and weak. Hanging on the wall of his cell is the skeleton of Jason Todd, the Robin who preceded Tim and died in the line of duty at Joker's hands. I'm assuming this was put in place as a constant reminder that Tim wasn't the first, and won't be the last.

Last, and most disturbing, is Bane, the villain famous for breaking Batman's back in the "Knightfall" storyline. Bane appears to have been hanged, and considering he doesn't appear to be in any state of decomposition, it appears to be a very recent kill. It's far from Bane's character to attempt suicide, however, which leads me to believe that he was likely executed for his insurrection.

We see more of real Joker shining through at the bleak sight of these characters, as he starts to make more and more jokes. It seems as he is quite impressed by this, and even goes so far as to say that maybe the Pretender has some finesse after all. Things start to not add up, however....if Batman were a true beast, then why are his allies and enemies still human??

Robin reaches out in a desperate plea to have the Joker free them, begging and even referring to him as "sir". Joker comes into his own and makes yet another joke, about as unfunny as you'd expect from him. Things fully take a turn for the surrel as Joker removes his own face in an attempt to smile more, and fully erase the existence of "Joe" and leave himself fully Joker. Since he removes it so easily and with no consequence or pain, this is where we realize that maybe this isn't an alternate reality, and perhaps something a little less real....

Joker ascends the stairs, reassuring himself of his identity once more. Feeling water droplets, he searches for the source before finding the Pretender, hunched over and crying. While reading this I wondered why the Pretender hadn't come after Joker, but now it made sense. He was mourning the loss of Bat-Beast, who we can only assume that Pretender considered his kill. We have here a complete role reversal: Joker is in control, the new leader of this strange world and with all of it at his helm, while Pretender is now usurped from the throne, a sad, scared animal...uncertain and doubtful, just as the Joker himself had been earlier.

When Joker realizes he's taken full control, things REALLY begin to fall apart. Reality itself crumbles around them, Joker starting to realize exactly what's taking place as the Pretender withers to a skeleton and dies. We cut to the next portion, where we get the big reveal: Joker had been dreaming, a fit of lucid sleep while he wasn't conscious. This whole venture had been little more than an exploration of the deep, twisted thoughts of Joker's mind.

While it's not immediately clear as to why this is, Joker (sporting an.......odd haircut and choice of clothing) is tied, bound to a bed while who appears to be group of thugs lament the fact that he's awake. And in typical Joker fashion, he has to quote something, this time being Wizard of Oz, to have a little chuckle to himself.

The men, revealed to be under Joker's employ, describe that their plan was to chloroform him, tie him up, and inject him with a "truth serum" for him to divulge the whereabouts of his amassed forturne, so they could take it all for themselves. What they didn't count on, however, was the fact that the Joker's sheer lunacy reacted...differently with the truth serum, giving us an explination of why Joker was having such vivid images going through his head.

Joker, without blinking, tells them the exact location of his fortune and asks if they know what else is in his pocket. He, of course, takes this opportunity to make a penis joke. He explains a small glass capsulet was broken in his pocket when he moved his hip, and he held his breath as the contents spilled out, while the others inhaled. This very cleverly explained why Joker's panel remained the exact same without him making a sound for several pages, and Joker tells them that the gas in the capsule was a paralytic that would wear off in a few hours.

Joker reflects on his dream, picking a rose and examining it while talking to no one in particular about how he found his little dream adventure to be quite interesting, and that while everything had changed, only one aspect remained the same...

Joker says that Batman, above all else, appeared the same in his dream as he does in reality, bringing our own adventure into extreme nightmare land to a close. That last line is particularly important, in that it's left so vague. Is the Joker's mind really so fractured and warped beyond belief that he quite literally sees Batman as a demon-like creature?? Or, is he referring to the fact that everyone who fears him sees him as a force of nature, a beast only in the minds of paranoid criminals??

This story is without a doubt incredibly odd, but brilliant in that it puts the Joker and Joker alone in the main role. The Joker is rarely, if ever, the expositor in any story. Typically, it's in very rare instances as most of the thoughts relating to the story being told stems from Batman or another hero, so it's refreshing to see Joker drop his "character" so to say and really get an idea of how he talks to himself when no ones looking. Plus, who's to say that he doesn't take trips like this through any number of disturbing dreams regularly?

A fantastic story, and definitely worth a read, then a reread after that. Should you be interested, a quick google search for "Showcase '94" will provide a link to Amazon where you can actually buy a copy of this comic for only a couple bucks, so give it a shot!! Oh, and remember that I was exposed to this around 10 years old ;) sweet dreams, and thanks for the read!!!