Archive | January, 2013

Clogging Up The Spypes

31 Jan

I wanna mess around with the unwashed masses once again, so lets rock this! We’re going back to Omegle, specifically the Spy mode. For those unaware, Spy mode is a LASER CINNAMON TITTY FUCK.

Sorry, I’ve done this so often, I was trying to spice it up. Anyway, Spy mode is a function that allows one to answer questions while somebody else spies on you. Wait a second, if that’s how that works, why isn’t it called PEEPING TOM mode?!

Checkmate, Omegle.


Wanna Fuck: No, But I Do Want To Capitalize Every Word I Say. It’s Kind Of My Fetish.

I hope you get cancer and die slowly and painfully, you worthless cunt: Aw, sounds like somebody needs a hug!

Did you know that God loves you?: You sounds less like somebody trying to spread the “word of god”, and more like a jealous ex-girlfriend trying to find “that skanky hoe God’s been palling around with”.

Also, boobs.

I don’t know who this is, but apparently she’s now “a skanky hoe”. Congratulations!

You come home from school and Megan Fox is at your home and want’s to fuck you, but only if your dad can join too. WHAT DO?: Well, seeing as my dad is currently in a jar on a bookshelf, I’m guessing Megan Fox is kind of out of luck.

How’s your day? Just kidding. I DON’T CARE!!!: That’s… that’s so hurtful. 

what do you think of foot fetish?: I think it’s toetally none of my business.

how do two women have sex  ?: With a hammer, a ferret, the complete works of J.K Rowling, a tanker of peach schnapps, a water bed, the desecrated bones of Jesus Christ, a pinball machine, a swivel chair, and the Hindenburg.

I am out of filthy blimp references.

“Bow chicka bow wow.”

“Till the cows come home”? Where the cows been?: THE MOON.

It’s very secretive, we’re not supposed to talk about it.

 Benedict Cumberbatch… that is all: Man, that’s, like, the best name ever. Cumberbatch! Cumberbatch. CuMbErBaTcH. CUMberBATCH! Cumberbatchcumberbatchcumberbatchcumberbatchcumberbatchcumberbatchcumberbatch sorry, where was I?

Hi. I don’t want to ask a question. Talk freely: You… you really don’t get how this works, do you?


Today’s Forecast: Snow With A Chance Of Dead Space 3

30 Jan

Why does anyone ever want to go to space? Space is SERIOUSLY fucked up. I mean, there’s Daleks, space dinosaurs, the Covenant, the Borg, you might run in to the Irken Armada, the Space Core is still floatin’ around, the Observers are dicking about, it is just a bad neighbourhood. 

And now the Dead Space series has added a new threat: space zombies! (Fun fact: adding “space” to anything makes it 5 times more EXTREME.)


*cue guitar solo*

Anyway, the demo for Dead Space 3 has recently come out, and I decided to give it a whirl. Now, realistically, trying to review a demo is patently unfair, as it’s not a finished product. But, on the other hand, SHUT THE HELL UP I’M DOING IT ANYWAY.

But first, some background info: Dead Space is a horror video game series, set in the future. See, humanity has taken up the habit of pelvic-thrusting asteroids to oblivion (also known as mining), then carting back anything useful to Earth. But, on the USG Ishimura, they found something… something evil!


They found a Marker, which is the religious symbol of Unitology. It’s also the religious symbol for “holy fuck this thing makes space zombies why did we bring this on board oh no now everybody’s a zombie this was the worst idea ever”.

Isaac Clarke, engineer, stops by at the Ishimura to check if everybody’s okay. Unfortunately, Isaac Clarke has the worst luck and ends up embroiled in zombie guts, before he finally manages to leave, nuking the Marker as he does. But unfortunately for him… it’s not a dry erase Marker!

Dead Space 2 decides to up the ante by having Isaac wake up on a space station called “The Sprawl”, filled with more space zombies. The military decided to try to make their own Marker, which OF COURSE RESULTS IN SPACE ZOMBIES WHAT ELSE DID YOU THINK IT WOULD DO YOU MORONS.

Isaac blows up the second Marker, flies away, and that’s where we are now! Let’s rock this demo, because I’m getting antsy from not killing anything. (Wait, can I call it killing if it’s a bunch of space zombies OH WHO THE HELL CARES.)

The demo starts with a title screen, informing us that this demo “does not represent the quality and appearance of the final product”. Gee, you’re defending yourself a little too soon, demo! I haven’t even PLAYED you yet. You’re apologizing for premature ejaculation before you get your pants off!

Upon hitting start, it flies you to the main menus, where it has a big banner at the top: “THANKS FOR PLAYING DEAD SPACE 3!”

Um. You’re welcome?

When I hit “solo campaign”, I have to sit through a 5 second animation of frozen space zombie chunks flying around. Lengthy animations for absolutely no reason? Not a good sign. You’d think Too Human would have taught you that.

(Don’t ask. It would take me too long, at least the space of three Too Human death sequences, to explain it.)

There, now that I’m done writing my 500 word treatise on the freaking MENU, it’s time to actually play! Well, almost, first I have to sit around, listening to a pleasant sounding British woman thanking me for playing the demo.

Look, I haven’t even given you my money, stop sucking up!

FINALLY, we get to the actual game: a horrible looking (by which I mean bad graphics) and frostbitten Isaac Clarke hanging upside down. He pulls himself down, slips on his cool looking engineering suit, and reveals that he apparently crashed a spaceship on to Hoth.

After wandering around, killing a couple of space zombies (Now they have parkas! That’s good, now they won’t get cold.) and calling out for Ellie, Isaac’s support character from Dead Space 2, we get a quick time event, otherwise known as the worst fucking thing to put in a video game.

(For those not in the know, a “quick time event” is when the game stops, shows you something cool, and you have to hit buttons to actually make the game START again.)

I have to say, fighting in a blizzard is actually really cool. All the space zombies are these desecrated, mutated monstrosities, so it’s REALLY cool when they shamble out of the snow, looking to give you the world’s gooiest hug.


“Grooooooooooup hug!”

Of course, they drop the “cool blizzard” almost immediately, because they have some bizarre fetish for making things less interesting. (Please tell me that that’s not a real fetish.)

Isaac meets “Carver”, who nobody has ever heard of ever but apparently we’re supposed to know who he is, and we get to tool around with the workbench, a fancy doo-dad that let’s people make their own guns. I’ll fully admit, I have no idea how it works, so I just messed around with it till it looked cool.

(Yeah, I judge things entirely on their cosmetic appearance. It usually works well, except for that one time when I tried to kill an elder god with a whiffle ball bat, painted like a naked woman.)

After I’m gone messing with my tool (AHEM.), I try to take an elevator, which APPARENTLY had a monster on top, despite the fact that “Carver” was standing there, staring at it, not 5 seconds ago, and he still didn’t tell me about it.

I may not know who “Carver” is, but apparently he’s a dick.

I blast the stupid elevator dick monster apart with my new toy (I call him Mr. Shiny!) and continue on my way. I find a corpse, not exactly an oddity in this series, who plays a little radio broadcast about trying to kill me.

Is this entire planet made of dicks?!

I walk in to the new room, and get shot at by non-zombie humans.

Oh. So it is.


The word of the day: dicks.

Fortunately, some good-old-fashioned space zombies walk out and slap the stupid thugs down, (This is Dead Space 3, not Gears Of War. If I wanted to curb stomp bland morons, I’d go to high school! Or Gears Of War, either or.) allowing me to continue my journey on the Planet Of Dicks.

We then get to see a new baddie: a tentacled head who takes control of bodies and makes them fight. This one hops from corpse to corpse like a Yeerk playing musical chairs, before I finally manage to put him down.


We meet another workbench, and hey, I think I’ve finally figured out how this works! I use my mad engineering skill (Isaac Clarke’s an engineer, so it’s about time he does some actual engineering work) and attach a fancy knife to one of my guns!

Yes, because if you’re fighting a bunch of space zombies with knifes, you should CLEARLY only use a knife, instead of your fancy gun!

Shut up.

Ellie finally calls back and- wait, Isaac previously expressed confusion about where she was! In this same demo, no less! Did… did we miss a scene where she calls him and says “hey, by the way, I’m still alive”? Or does she just do this all the time, ignoring Isaac while he fights for his life?


A drill happens to be in our way, so I yank it out, leading to the drill “trying to kill me”. (Isaac, why did you say that? IT’S A DRILL, it CAN’T try to kill you. It can’t try ANYTHING, because IT’S A DRILL. You’re the one who decided to walk over and try to stick your dick in it.)

Cue space zombies, who make an excellent meal for my new friend, Drilly McDrill. I toss them in, turning them in to a nice salsa, before skipping along the yellow brick road of zombies.

We wander outside, to a bunch of humans shooting each other. Unfortunately for them, I happened to be wielding Mr. Shiny, and Mr. Shiny does not take kindly to twats.


And then he eats everybody. Including the demo, apparently, because that’s the end.

So, how was it?

Well, as much as I like hating things, the Dead Space 3 demo is actually pretty good. But, it is definitely a demo. I can see the awesomeness in here, but it’s bogged down with glitches and logical lapses. It’s kind of like watching a blooper reel before actually watching the movie.

Still, it was a good reel. Give it a try! And, if you’ll excuse me, my never ending search for the Planet Of Dicks continues!

Mr. Shiny will be tagging along, of course.

A Fancy Hat Sits On My Head

29 Jan

A fancy hat sits on my head,

It’s fanciness apparent.

Makes me look more dignified

With white stripes quite inherent.

I step on to a transit bus,

With aims to head ‘cross town.

I tip my hat in gratitude

And twirl as I sit down.

Suddenly, the bus goes thump!

My head rocks back and forth.

It makes my hat fall on the ground!

Fuck. Now my hat’s dirty.

Me Versus The Telephone Pole

28 Jan

BREAKING NEWS: I crashed a snowmobile in to a telephone pole at fifty kilometres an hour, sending me spiralling several metres through the air!


I generally tend to avoid making this a “diary” site (Wait, is “diary site” an actual thing, or did I just make that up? Please oh please tell me I made that a thing.) but I figure the whole “high impact collision” thing might be worth talking about, if only so people can learn some important lessons from my mistakes.

(LESSON ONE: Don’t crash snowmobiles in to telephone poles at fifty kilometres an hour, sending you spiralling several metres through the air.)

As one tends to do when they have a snowmobile, I was riding it, traversing a nice empty field. As I rode, I started monologuing to myself. (I sincerely hope I’m not the only one who does this.)

“Man, today is a beautiful day. I’m so glad to be out here with family. The sun is shining, the birds are singing and oh fuck that’s a telephone pole.”

Pulled out of reverie too late, I managed to veer slightly to the side. I then had a split second of which to think.

Thought one: I am totally going to hit that thing.

Thought two: This is going to hurt.

Both thoughts were correct.

I slammed in to the pole, sending me flying, head over heels. I finally landed with a humiliating “flumph” in a snow bank. I preceded to sit there, giggling over the whole ordeal. I mean, 4 acres of land, and I find THE ONE FUCKING TELEPHONE POLE?!

I eventually gathered my wits and various scattered snow supplies, and counted my injuries.

1 bleeding leg wound.

1 scuffed helmet.

7 aching joints.

1 ruined pair of pants.

5 hours of incoherence.

4 hurtful scrapes.

1 buggered thumb.


So, take this as a cautionary tale: fuck telephone poles. And come back to A Very Strange Diary, where I’m sure we’ll talk about my dry elbows!

[No we will not.]

Goodbye, Dad

27 Jan

Today marks the 2 year anniversary of the death of my father, Michael Van Rooy.

Goodbye, dad.

In the future, try to die less. That would be great.

With Great Power Comes Great Marketability

26 Jan

Spider-Man is, in my humble opinion, the saddest comic character character ever created. He gets bitten by a toxic arachnid, his uncle croaks, everybody in the damn world hates him, his friends and family turn in to super-villains with alarming regularity, and his aunt dies every fifteen freaking minutes!

Man, it’s sure good he has a beautiful, caring wife to come home to OH WAIT.




Okay… okay… I think I’m done my Joe Quesada hate venting.

Did I have a point to all this?

Oh, right!

Spider-Man’s bad luck also translates to video games, often making games that are either bland, stupid or just plain mediocre. But, sometimes, on a blue moon, when the stars align and a very lucky boy has sold his very lucky marriage, Spider-Man: Shattered Dimensions is born!

The game starts off with Spider-Man attempting to stop Mysterio stealing a magic tablet. Unfortunately, because Spider-Man is apparently a MORON, he drop kicks the tablet across 4 different dimensions.


So Madame Web, grand queen of exposition, supes up the Spider-Men in all the other dimensions so they can go rescue the fragments from the various villains that attempt to abscond with them. And at the very end, they all gang up to fight the dimension destroying Mysterio and… wait, what? Mysterio isn’t actually magic!

I mean, are you telling me there aren’t any dimension altering baddies that Spider-Man could fight? You’d need somebody threatening… magical… evil… shown to have an interest in Spider-Man (or specifically, his marriage)… able to manipulate dimensions (like manipulating away a marriage, for instance)…

Oh, I know!

Judas Traveller.

I'm the only one who actually remembers this guy, aren't I?


Actually, speaking of the Clone Saga, you can actually unlock a Ben Reilly skin! It’s a nice gesture, but I thought people weren’t allowed to talk about the Clone Saga any more. If you even bring it up, Stan Lee takes you out back and breaks your kneecaps with a pipe wrench.

Anyway, the game! There are 4 universes; Amazing (the standard universe), Ultimate (with teenage Spider-Man), 2099 (yes, the future is a new dimension), and Noir (where Spider-Man is presumably a gumshoe and Felicia Hardy is “a dame I knew was trouble from the moment she walked in”).

Each universe has 3 levels, so let’s get this over with. Amazing, where the combat is nothing special, has Kraven (if he boasts about being the ultimate hunter one more time, I am going to force feed him his own stupid coat), Sandman (I call this one “a glitch’s paradise”), and Juggernaut (who comes with ninjas… for some reason).

The Ultimate universe decides to headline a younger Spider-Man wearing the black Venom suit (yeah, like THAT’S never ended badly before), with the added ability to freak the hell out and smack people up. Like all teenagers do!

(Can teenagers actually do that?)

The rogue’s gallery of the Ultimate universe consists of Electro (electricity puns off the port bow!), Deadpool (who decided to give Deadpool a reality T.V show?), and Carnage (the fact that Carnage gets his own level makes me happier than I can accurately describe).


[Insert smiley face emoticon here.]

2099 has this Spider-Man sporting a blue suit, because blue is the colour of the future, and gives Spidey the ability to slow down time and bitch slap gravity, because that’s how the future works.

He has to tangle with the Hobgoblin (well, more like the Cybergoblin), Scorpion (this is the worst level in the entire freaking game) and Doctor Octopus (it’s a female version, so we get a lot of “oh yeah, she’s in to me” jokes).

And finally, we have the Noir universe, which is the only universe with different gameplay. See, this Spidey is a wuss, so he spends every level hiding in the shadows and wetting himself until the bad guys turn away in shame so he can bonk them on their heads.

He trades wuss smacks with Hammerhead (his only super-power is his ability to headbutt things, dead serious), the Vulture (who is now a cannibalistic pyromaniac wait what), and the Goblin (who… is bland).

The main problem with Spider-Man: Shattered Dimensions is that it’s not really a STORY. It’s more like a running advertisement for all these different Spider-Man universes. You get a couple of minutes with each Spider-Man and each universe than- what’s that? You want an actual story? Hah hah, you’re so silly. You have to actually BUY the comics for that! Go back to smacking around nameless goons.

Still, I like it. Pick it up, if only for the Carnage level!


Sorry, I guess I still had some Quesada hatred built up.

Freshly Riffed 18: Not A Post But An Incredible Simulation

25 Jan

Welcome back to Freshly Riffed, the only web series tHaT tAkEs CaRe Of ThE pLaCe WhIlE tHe MaStEr Is AwAy.

According to my flamenco instructor, Freshly Riffed is where I make fun of the titles of Freshly Pressed blog posts. Also, I really need to put my feet in to it. (Seriously, 50 dollars a week for that.)

Each title will be linked to the original author, for reasons that have completely escaped me but hey, what the hell. If you are one of these authors, hello! Sit back, relax, have a nice, cold egg cream. All mockery is strictly for mockery sake, and should not be taken seriously. Hell, you should NEVER take anything I say seriously. It’s safer that way.


I Say Tomato; You Say, “What’s That?”: No, you say “tomato” and I say “OH GOD HE’S GOT A GUN!”.

The Ongoing Saga Of My Innards: “Poop: The Major Motion Picture”.

Of Course I’m Afraid Of Nuclear Fallout: Oh, come on, the super mutants aren’t that hard to kill.


AND you get to hang out with digital Felicia Day!

Toothbrush, Shampoo, And A Full Change Of Personality: Hey, it’s Harvey Dent’s overnight bag!


A Month Later, Still No Answers: “In retrospect, trying to interrogate a brick wall was perhaps not my wisest idea.”

Teaching With Tentacles: 

Alex, play the clip.

There we go.

An Amateur Blogger’s Tips For Creating A Better-Than-Amateur Blog: STOP USING THAT WORD. I’m sorry, but “blog” just PISSES ME OFF. That’s why if anyone asks what I do, I just spit acid and leap out the nearest window. Or I just say “internet writer”, either or.

Paris: The City Of White: Dammit, I thought it was the city of wine! Well, there goes my vacation plans.

How To Say Goodbye: Well, according to our team of high paid scientists, telling them “goodbye” is a great way to start.

Is The Home Page Dead?: Give me five minutes and a baseball bat and that can be arranged.