Villainous

So the Super Paper Mario articles crawls onward, but have been further delayed for a couple reasons. The first is that I haven't found the time to listen to the soundtrack, particularly since my internet has been a cavernous hellhole of agonizing sloth and dropped connections this week. The second is that the hulking three part article is now large enough that it'll need four. I'm not sure how much longer it will be but I don't want to keep actual content withheld so long. In the past, I would sometimes pepper these droughts with short stories I'd written for classes years back. I still have some I've never posted here, so I thought I'd post another. Initially I was going to throw in my opinion on it, but I've decided it's better to let it stand on it's own. Enjoy.

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Genericide Update: Appendages Sprout From My Human Torso

ANNOUNCER: “Good evening ladies and gentlemen, are you ready for the world’s self-proclaimed most popular game show?!”

*Applause probably!*

ANNOUNCER: “FaaaAAAAaaantastic! Then welcome to The Completely Established and Not at All Slapdash Genericide Super Fun Quuuuiiiiiiiiiiiz Show!”

*Applause once more!*

ANNOUNCER: “I’m your host: Mr. Host! Are you ready to meet our three faaaAAAAaaabulous contestents?!”

*Applause all up ins this business!*

ANNOUNCER: “Then let’s get started! First off: Contest Number One! Why don’t you introduce yourself for these lovely folks?”

Genericide Update: Rocket Surgeons are Useless

There are some men who achieve great deeds in their lifetimes. Some have spent their life toiling the pursuit of charity and goodwill. Some champion political causes for the betterment of mankind. Some sharpen their skills every day so they may become unparalleled masters of their respective crafts. Some journey where no men have gone before, across the reaches of space, time and our own human psyche.

Me? I have a working, up-to-date computer. CLOSE ENOUGH.

Genericide Update: A Cocktail of Slapstick Sorrow

Note: This one goes a little long, and is basically just me whining, so here’s the important bit: No updates yet. Maybe not next week either. Blame computer stuff. kthanxbai

I considered starting this post with a big hulking paragraph of parable all just to set up for my usual joke about inconsistent updates. Then I realized if I were making a metaphor for disappointment, the cleverest thing to do would be disappointing you! Actually, that’s a lie. I just got lazy. Hey, whaddaya know, mission still accomplished! I think I’ve found the perfect excuse, guys. That’s the real reason I don’t update with a full post each week, obviously. It’s not that I can’t be arsed to kick my cerebrum into gear, it’s that the whole thing is a deep artistic statement. An incredibly convenient deep artistic statement.

Oblivion Adventures Part 21: Bow-ing Pains

The sewers of the Imperial City were a bustling, thriving ecosystem. The towering monument of polished stone above was as strait-laced as can be. Things were pristinely maintained, gold flowed freely without concern, and the ratio of guards to actual citizens was near 1 to 1. The biggest threat to the police force was an imaginary man with a gray sack on his head. The closest thing the city had to back alleys were charming little decorative courtyards where you could barely hide from the blind. To put it simply, it was not a place that encouraged crime.

But crime isn’t some household pet that slinks away ashamed when given a good scolding. Like an annoyingly persistent fungus, it’s hard to get rid of and good at spreading itself where you aren’t looking. The Imperial City had a lot of people. More to the point, it had a lot of rich people. It also had an immensely sprawling sewage system, almost as spacious as the city itself. So long as the more unscrupulous members of society didn’t mind the smell or killing the occasional mudcrab (and who could object to that?), it was basically one giant rent-free, law-free living arrangement.

Genericide Update: Shambling Piñata Golems

Once more into the breach we go. Buckle up and simmer down, because you’ve got another week of no Genericide slamming straight in front of your headlights like the world’s most disappointing dead deer. I mean granted, I can’t think of a situation where a dead deer would be welcome, at least for the mentally sound. Perhaps it’s a deer filled not with grotesque deer guts, but instead delicious candy? Though at that point it isn’t so much a deer as a deer-filled piñata. I don’t know at what point we want to draw the line between deer and abomination of science, this isn’t a blog debating the philosophy of transdeerism. Besides, piñatamancy has been banned in these parts for centuries, so the point is moot.

Back in the realm of coherent lines of thought that are worth wasting brain space on: we have news on the next post!  Front and center amongst these interesting tidbits of knowledge is the following: Next post is not this week. You are not, in fact, reading it. Though Oblivion does in fact contain deer, I’m reasonably certain none of them are shambling piñata golems. Though I’ll grant you that should probably be a mod.

Genericide Update: Flawlessly Executed Yeti Surgery

So here we are, back to the comparatively insubstantial wisps of update posts. After three solid weeks of content, this was pretty much inevitable. Some of you may retort by pointing out there were four solid weeks of update posts before that, but as the words leave your mouth I’ve already dived out the window and left the attack helicopter to cover my escape. By the time you’ve alternated between taking cover behind chest high walls and firing the conveniently located RPG into the cockpit, I’ll be lounging on a scenic beachfront far from any consequences. It is at this point I will remember that my blog is entirely digital, making it impossible to flee from by moving to a different physical location. Also, I am like 90% sure I don’t own an attack helicopter.

Yet.