Zack: Gaze, in your mind's eye, through the red haze of battle, to the kitchen table and some dice and friends from junior high. You're swilling Crystal Pepsi and eating Doritos. Your mom keeps coming into the kitchen and shooting dirty looks. Your friends don't really like the game. They keep getting distracted talking about Mortal Kombat. You try to keep their attention by introducing Ken and Ryu. Someone decides to shoot them for no reason. How did they get that rocket launcher?
Steve: Oh, man, it's really taking me back. Except it was Code Red and Flaming Hot Cheetos, Keith's basement, and blasting some sweet Manowar on the stereo.
Zack: Destiny beckons...
Steve: Finally we can put down these lame videogames and duke it out in the greatest videogame of all: our imagination.
Zack: Just don't imagine any blood. Even in the Street Fighter book Nintendo has apparently replaced it with the Mortal Kombat oil.
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