You feel the power of teenage angst enter your body through awkward beats and poor songwriting. By the end of Significant Other you are ready to break something. You check your five-foot javelin, your quart of urine, and exit with Chad. The two of you wander aimlessly around Beijing for a few hours as you attempt to communicate with the locals. Your Japanese isn't working very well, and Fred Durst's nasally whining is bouncing around your head. A wrong turn leaves you stuck in a dead-end where a Tibetan Monk corners you. His thin feet are black with dirt, his frail hand shakes out of his robe to give you a handwritten packet and numerous pictures portraying the awful atrocities by the Chinese government. You try to tell him you aren't interested, but he refuses to leave.
It's true. Grimace is human. God help us, we did our best for him.
Your lair. Maybe you lure victims to it, maybe you hide in it between killings, or maybe you haunt it 24/7 because you’re tragically confined by a curse. Whatever the situation, for most of us monsters, a living/un-living space is an important part of our identities. In this column, Monstergeddon award winners share their lair tips and techniques!
The famed gonzo otaku journalist writes about the death of gaming culture in 2014.
Try not to break your console while I try not to break my cyber brain.
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.