Azn Badger's Blog

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Playstation Move + Sports Champions Review

Today I spent a good portion of my afternoon kickin’ it with my Korean buddy from up the street.

Pictured: Said Korean. He made this, not me.

Being as he’s a gadget oriented person, he saw fit to purchase the new Playstation Move on the first day of it’s release.

I was fortunate to be invited to christen the mighty motion control device along with him.

Color me surprised when I discovered that it was actually kind of fun to play.

Bear in mind, my impressions are, of course; derived solely from the Sports Champions disc packed with it.

Azn chick with a bow. Now that's not cliched imagery...

Like most gaming peripheral pack-in games I.E. Wii Sports, Super Scope 6, etc., Sports Champions could be viewed as little more than a tech-demo for the device, however in the case of the Move, it just happens to be a surprisingly deep and full-featured tech-demo.

FUCK. YES.

The game contains 6 different styles of play:

Archery, Ping Pong, Volleyball, Bocce Ball, Disc Golf, and a sword and shield Gladiator Duel.

I leave it to you to guess which game I insisted on playing most often.

"ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!?"

While I didn’t have the opportunity (nor desire) to try the Volleyball game, I was pretty impressed with most of the others.

The Archery was pretty straightforward, and definitely favored speed over accuracy.

Much like how I favor this Robin Hood over any other.

I have to say, requiring the player to actually have to reach over their shoulder to pull the next arrow from their quiver was a nice touch.

Other than that though, the Archery game was definitely lacking without the use of a second Move controller to properly simulate the tensile strength on the string of the bow.

The second controller tracks the distance between the 2 to determine the strength of the shot. SCIENCE.

My friend is a gadget guy, but he’s also Azn, so I don’t expect he’ll be shelling out the cash for another controller any time soon.

Moving on, Ping Pong was definitely a standout among most of the games.

Ping Pong was the first game I was privy to trying my hand at, and as such, it served as my introduction to the technical capabilities of the Move.

TECHNICAL.

My first action in the game was to turn over my wrist before the serve, just to see how well the Move could track my motions.

I have to say, it was quite satisfying to see my on-screen avatar (some douche in sunglasses named Dallas) actually match my wrist gesticulations move for move.

Here’s a video of someone (who sucks) playing the same character:

Once I started the game, I found the controls to be quite intuitive and surprisingly true to life.

I was perhaps most impressed by the controller’s ability to keep up with my movements despite my wonky style of playing Ping Pong.

I play right-handed, but in a Southpaw stance… And I also play back-handed with the racquet held at my waist.

Pictured: The Azn Badger playin' Ping Pong.

Goofy yes, but effective against lower-tier players like myself.

Despite all that goofiness, the Move managed to keep up just fine, allowing me to actually get a win in Ping Pong before my friend, the owner of the device, even got a chance to.

Bocce Ball was kind of a mixed bag.

I played it hot-seat style with my 2 other friends, and we found that:

A): Bocce Ball is a game that is probably more fun when someone in the room knows the rules/objective of the game.

And B): Bocce Ball is a game best played in the presence of old people or feebs.

Pictured: The correct people to stomp on in Bocce Ball.

While pretty fun, especially whenever someone managed to accidentally make a nice shot, the real problem with Bocce Ball was the Move’s inability to simulate the weight of a Bocce Ball in your hand.

Trust me, when you’re trying to determine just how much man-force behind your Bocce throw, more often than not you’ll find yourself overthrowing.

This same problem was present when playing Disc Golf with the same 2 friends.

Thankfully, no one I know owns one of these.

Although in this case, the problem was much more pronounced.

Disc Golf was kind of like the Wii Bowling of the Sports Champion disc.

Once you “get it,” that is, figure out how to position your wrist and how much man-force to put behind your shots, for the most part you’ve pretty much figured out the game.

Though my friends and I didn’t come close to mastering Disc Golf in the short time we played it, I can say this:

Those of us who could straighten their wrists properly (not me) were consistently the victor in every match we played.

That being said, let’s cut through the bullshit and get down to talkin’ about the only game in Sports Champions that really matters:

GLADIATOR DUEL

I’ve played Gladiator Duel for about 4-5 hours total now, and I’ve gotta’ say, at least against the computer; it’s pretty fuckin’ fun.

The basic gameplay of Duel is that of a motion controlled sword fight.

Yes, you do in fact look THIS dorky when playing.

Remember how utterly weak-sauce the controls of Wii Boxing were?

You know how he landed that shot? By flailing around for 5 minutes and getting lucky, that's how.

Well, Gladiator Duel blows that shit outta’ the water.

Remember how every swing you performed in Wii Tennis, regardless of power or direction, would always result in a canned animation?

Pictured: Steven Spielberg spite-killing Shigeru Miyamoto at Wii Tennis.

Well, Gladiator Duel spreads it’s cheeks and drops a log all over that shit’s face.

Remember how Rocky successfully ended the reign of the communist reign of the USSR using only his fists and the magnificent man-force of his man-fists?

BOW BEFORE YOUR GOD.

Well, that has nothing to do with Gladiator Duel, but it was fuckin’ awesome…

Anyway, when playing Duel, swinging the Move controller results in any number of attacks, while doing the same motions while holding the trigger on the controller results in manipulation of the player’s shield.

Parries, that is defense using one’s sword are possible and indeed recommended, as are the use of lateral movement and backsteps.

There are numerous context sensitive actions available in the game, so many in fact that I found myself wondering how fun Gladiator Duel would be to play online with human players.

Here’s a clip, I don’t feel like fishing for pics right now:

Trust me when I say this, the game is far more intense once you step up the difficulty level.

I was quite impressed by the sheer volume of content available in Sports Champions, well, at least the Gladiator Duel portion of it.

Near as I can tell, there are 10 racially diverse player avatars to choose from, with apparently an additional six unlockable after completing all of the challenges for each sports event.

Pictured: The 2 Azn characters. Both are Japanese. Go figure.

My buddy and I managed to unlock Titus, the Roman gladiator-garbed boss character of the Gladiator Duel game.

Pictured: Titus and his trident wielding friend.

In addition to this, different weapon skins and costumes are unlockable for each character, but perhaps most importantly, many characters possess their own movement animations, with only a few being reused here and there.

Thankfully there wasn't a whole lot of this in Sports Champions...

Little details like that were certainly not necessary for the developers to release Sports Champions successfully, however they are ultimately what kept me from holding all that much against it.

I can honestly say that I’ll probably never invest in a Move, (I’d need a Playstation 3 first now, wouldn’t I?) however that doesn’t stop me from having a lot of fun playing it at a friend’s house.

A few words to potential purchasers:

My buddy was telling me that he tried using the Move in conjunction with the game Tiger Woods 11, only to find that the motion controls were stunningly inaccurate.

Also, the same buddy is still trying to find a game that stands out as being a must purchase for the Move.

To top things off, as mentioned earlier, many games seem to need a second controller to work properly, so that’s an extra $40 if you seriously wanna’ get the most out of your experience.

Oh well, that doesn’t stop me from pestering my buddy to buy another controller so we can try The Fight: Lights Out

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In Memoriam: Robert Muldoon

"JP: Jurassic Park! Something, has survived!"

I fucking love Jurassic Park.

As a child raised with the perception that dinosaurs were absolutely the coolest shit ever, Steven Spielberg’s Jurassic Park was, and still is, the perfect film to appeal to my young dinosaur loving self.

Pictured: My young, dinosaur loving self.

I suppose it also helped that the movie was legitimately good too.

Anyway, this post isn’t about Jurassic Park as a whole, if it were you’d have to pack your sleeping bag just to read it.

Seriously, this is one movie that I really can talk about FOR-EV-ER.

No, today, we’re going to be talking about a man among men.

A man so manly, even the biggest and most clever of Velociraptor pride leaders wouldn’t dare challenge him without the aid of a comrade.

That's right bitch. Shake in 'dem fossilized bones a' yours...

A man so manly, every hat he owns, even his baseball caps; flip up on one side like a slouch hat.

Pictured: Australia in hat form.

A man so manly, even the mighty Samuel L. Jackson dare not challenge his authority when told to be “quiet.”

"'The fuck told ME to shut up?..."

A man so manly, he can drive stick.

"Get off the stick! Bloody move!"

That’s right ladies and gentleman, today we pay tribute to the manliest of manly men, the paragon of pimp, the head game warden and “great white hunter” of John Hammond’s (Richard Attenborough) Jurassic Park:

Robert Muldoon.

In short, Muldoon is THE SHIT.

You thought Donnie Yen was badass?

Next to Muldoon he’s a fucking choir boy.

A CHOIR BOY.

Though he was only in handful of scenes, Muldoon nevertheless made a huge impression on me, even as a child.

Personally, I think most of that had to do with the fact that he wore a slouch/Aussie hat, which was something I just happened to think was really fuckin’ cool back in the day.

Still kinda’ do, now that you mention it…

Anyway, Muldoon is a hard-ass throughout most of Jurassic Park, but he’s a loveable hard-ass.

Y’know, he’s that kind of asshole where you’re all like:

"Man, what a dick..."

But after a few seconds you’re all like:

"But goddamnit, he's AWESOME!"

He was the rock of the major players in Jurassic Park.

While everyone else panicked, he just kind of gritted his teeth and toughed it out.

Oh yeah, and then licked his lips, involuntarily twitched his eye, and seemingly intentionally tried his best to scare the ever loving shit out of everyone around him.

"I've got her..."

Y’know, hero stuff.

Anyway, as we all know, Robert Muldoon met his demise at the hands of yet another blatant case of a Spielberg-ian spite killing.

That is, he tracked a Velociraptor in the jungle, only to be flanked by a second raptor much in the same way that Alan Grant (Sam Neill) flat out TOLD US this would happen to someone at some point in the movie:

Poo poo on Muldoon for missing Grant’s informative and decidedly not kid-friendly paleontological spiel at the beginning of the movie.

I suppose it didn’t help either that he decided to wait until the absolute last moment to set up the stock to his SPAS 12.

In retrospect, he probably should’ve done that before he even set foot in the jungle, or failing that, he probably could’ve at least tried to fire it sawed-off style.

Either way, shoulda’ woulda’ coulda’ doesn’t mean a whole lot when you’re gettin’ mauled by one seriously pissed off raptor.

Actually, for all I know that might be his "Can I have a cookie?" face...

Oh well, at least he got to kill the Tyrannosaur and a shit ton of raptors WITH A FUCKIN’ GRENADE LAUNCHER in the book.

FUCK YEAH.

Oh yeah, and then there was that whole part where, y’know, he lived at the end of the book.

Thanks for that Michael Crichton (R.I.P.).

Anyway, the real reason for this post, is to honor the memory of the actor who portrayed Robert Muldoon, Bob Peck.

Good God he's badass...

I was informed today by a co-worker (the same one that inspired me to take on the Top 100 Goriest Films) that Mr. Peck had died of cancer on the 4th of April, 1999.

I may be 11 years or so late, but this post is my way of honoring his memory.

Sadly, I can’t say I’ve ever seen Mr. Peck in any other film’s or TV series, as most of his roles were in British exclusive productions.

Even so, I don’t think I’m alone when I say that, his performance as Muldoon was pretty much all I needed to see of him to forever believe he was THE SHIT.

That being said, Bob Peck, Robert Muldoon, you shall henceforth be forever remembered as one in the same, a shining example of what it means to be the manliest of manly men.

With that, I shall close with Mr. Peck’s, and therefore Robert Muldoon’s; official theme song:

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The Top 10 Best Overkills in Movies, #9: The Lost World

*Sorry folks, no clip this time.  After all, it is a Spielberg…*

Let it be known, The Lost World is just about the most outright savage example of “Spielbergian Spite Killing” in practice.

For the uninitiated, “Spielbergian Spite Killing” refers to the indisputable fact that anyone who is an asshole, or is at all deserving of comeupance in any way shape or form, will; at some point in the movie, FUCKING DIE FOR IT.

You are guys are SO dead...

For instance, in The Lost World alone we have:

A man doesn’t hear his friend’s cries for help on account of him listening to a Walkman.

Carter: A man all about his music...

Guess what?

HE FUCKIN’ DIED FOR IT.

Adios Carter...

Then, we have a weasely Brit that’s guilty of… Well, being a weasely Brit.

Oh yeah, and talkin' shit to Jeff Goldblum...

Guess what?

HE FUCKIN’ DIED FOR IT.

The Lost World used Baby T-Rex! It's Super-Effective!

Which brings us to Dieter Stark, played by resident creepy-as-fuck Swede, Peter Stormare.

Pictured: The kinder, gentler Stormare...

Dieter Stark seemingly makes it a point to be a douche in every scene he’s in.

Let’s review:

The first time we see Dieter, he’s riding around in a jeep and mishears Peter Postlethwaite, thusly resulting in him asking Postlethwaite to repeat himself.

No self-respecting MAN asks Peter Postlethwaite to repeat himself.

I would NOT fuck with this man. No, sir...

That’s strike 1.

Shortly thereafter, Dieter is seen examining a Composognathus with the InGen group’s resident paleontologist.

This dude. Oh yeah, he dies too; but for ABSOLUTELY NO REASON.

After the creature is declared, quote: “not dangerous,” Dieter promptly whips out his trusty cattleprod, (never leave home without it) and zaps the little fucker seemingly just for the sake of seeing it squirm.

Hot chili!

That’s strike 2.

Finally, in one of Dieter’s last scenes in the movie, he is seen pacing around in the background while giving Vince Vaughn the goddamn stinkiest of stink-eyes.

Although, one could argue that Peter Stormare was born with a case of permanent, unintentional stink eye...

This of course results in a brief shoving match between the 2, which for all intents and purposes, Dieter loses, ’cause c’mon:

It’s fuckin’ Vince Vaughn.

No self-respecting MAN starts shit with Vince Vaughn and lives to tell the tale.

And that makes a big-fuckin’ strike 3.

Which brings us to the #9 Best Overkill in our Top 10 list of Best Overills in Movies:

Not long after his littler scuffle with Vince Vaughn, Dieter separates himself from the mercenaries/Team Goldblum in order to go relieve himself in the woods.

Upon leaving, he tells his buddy Carter to wait up for him, only for the camera angle to zoom-in and reveal, *GASP!* Carter couldn’t hear him on account of his wicked awesome Walkman!

BUM, BUM, BUMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!

In a film where there are crazy fuckin’ dinosaurs boppin’ around in the wilderness, and your character has; up to this point, been a total prick, you can pretty much guarantee that somethin’ bad’s gonna’ happen when you wander off on your own.

Sure enough, just before ‘ole Dieter can whip it out, he hears some chirping in the bushes, which upon further investigation; reveals the source to be:

A MOTHERFUCKIN' JUMP SCARE!!!! RAWWRRRRRR!!!!

Turns out, one of those Compsognathus’ found his ass out in the woods and decided to scare the piss out of him, seemingly just for kicks.

Dieter being the kind soul that he, exchanges a bit of silly banter with the Compy, and promptly whips out his retractable cattleprod and proceeds to do what he can to introduce the little guy to the wonders of electricity.

Despite his best effort, Dieter misses the little fucker.

Now, after all this excitement, Dieter discovers that not only has he forgotten that he needed to pee, but he also doesn’t know how to get back to Team Goldblum.

Just how fuckin’ shy can this guy’s kidneys be that he needs to run 3 fuckin’ miles into the wilderness to take a piss!?

I don’t know, maybe he was one of those fat kids that had body image security issues and swam with his shirt on or some shit…

Yup, one of these.

ANYWAY, Dieter starts meandering through the woods repeatedly calling out:

Cut back to Carter, listening to 99.3 FM, La Grande:

"I'm just gonna' get stepped on by the T-Rex later, so who gives a fuck?"

After quite literally getting turned around in there, Dieter unfortunately takes a bad step in the woods and falls ass over teakettle down into a creek bed ravine.

Ow.

Collapsed on the ground, and in a great deal of pain, Dieter once again hears that familiar chirping and finds himself  set upon by a bevy of fearsome first-person camera shots!

Thusly begins our overkill.

Composognathus’ start piling in from out of the woodwork, mounting Dieter like a little bitch and busting out some serious ground and pound.

"He's goin' for the Kimura!"

These tenacious little fuckers manage to cover every inch of poor Dieter, biting and clawing at him, and generally putting a cap on one very bad day out in the woods.

Seriously, they get on his neck:

On his arms:

And at one point they even take a chunk outta’ his lips:

As he struggles to pry free from the clutches of these little green fuckers, Dieter of course falls back on calling to his one savior, his one beacon of hope: Carter.

We all know how well that works out.

With that, the Compys randomly decide to detach themselves from Dieter, in concert; mind you, leading to a downright cruel sequence wherein the entire swarm of them line up and basically taunt poor Dieter.

Oh, you smug little fucks...

This angers the mighty Swede, thusly causing him to chase them off with a combination of manly primal screams and equally manly rock throwing.

While silly looking, these tactics prove effective enough to by Dieter enough time to do some Home Alone Joe Pesci swearing, (“Regit, frigit, midgit, son of a…”) and actually try something practical; I.E. calling for Peter Postlethwaite instead of that sack of fail Carter.

"You called ME out here to save you from some little green chickens? Fucking pussy..."

Unfortunately, Postlethwaite is off doing something badass, like killing a fuckin’ T-Rex with his bare hands or some shit, so he doesn’t exactly hear Mr. Dieter.
In his defense, whatever Peter Postlethwaite was doing, I’m pretty sure it was more important than saving the fuckin’ Swede from the Frogger episode of Seinfeld.

Anyway, we then cut back to Dieter, who is now growing desperate, and has regularly begun chucking rocks at the creepy first-person tracking shot that just won’t seem to leave him alone.

"Get that camera away from me, Spielberg! I didn't sign on for this shit!"

Of course, with all that hazardous backwards walking in the creek, Dieter eventually trips over a rock and falls flat on his face.

Then, something silly happens.

Despite his wounds, despite the horde of nasty little fuckers trying to EAT HIS FLESH, Dieter takes a moment, while laying the creek; to GET A DRINK OF FUCKIN’ WATER!


WHAT THE FUCK!!??

Seriously, man!?

Priorities, dude:  Get ’em in order…

Otherwise this happens:

"Well, hello there stranger!"

Anyway, this MASSIVE fuck up on Dieter’s part costs him dearly, in that the Compys finally catch up to him and put his ass in some sort of Steiner Recliner/Figure-4 hybrid:

Compy Recliner.

Figure-4 Compy-Lock.

Despite (literally) tearing this sad sack pile of Swedish fuck-sauce’s ass to ribbons, Dieter somehow manages to haul himself up out of the creek, and make a run for a downed tree.

That proves to be his final mistake.

As he reaches the tree, Dieter gives one final look back at his pursuers, as if to say:

"Well, I gave it a shot, but I think I'm pretty much fucked here..."

And then proceeds to weakly roll over the log, essentially sealing his fate as the Compys follow his ass all the way down:

Yup, given enough time, they'd probably kill yah'.

With that, being as this a PG-13 film, we are treated to a tasteful closing shot of our overkill involving no graphic violence, but rather a great deal of implied nastiness in the form of George Lucas backed sound editing, and a fair amount of blood streaming through the creek bed.

"What is it?" "Blood! I hope this is not Chris' blood!"

All that carnage and nastiness, resulting in the 9th best Overkill in Movies, from a tiny dinosaur that was considered, quote:

“Not dangerous…”

Filed under: Movies, Uncategorized, Wrestling, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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