Luke Online: Week Ending Fed 22 2009

Some scientific fun over at The Daily Galaxy, with communications satellites blowing up, the Titan/Europa debate being decided, a little bit on curing the common cold, and Gravity Disturbances on the Dark Side of the Moon (dundunDUNNNN).

At Dial-a-Phone we see some alarm clocks that rouse you through sheer robot-fear, while the LowPings article tackles the most pathetic of modern hackers: exploiters.

*Note: unnecessary and quite horrifically forced slang triggered to counter the fact we're actually talking about calendars.

At FoodConnect, aka "Those gorgeous angelic beings who pay me to drink and eat" (and just click outside their silly join box), behold:




Yes, my writing duty demanded that I eat half a ton of mussels, drink beer, develop even more love in my lover while simultaneously getting sugar, and eat the ultimate fusion of bacon, chilli and sucrose. WARNING: A shitload of animals were harmed in the making of these articles, as "digested" are about as harmed as it gets.

Sign Function: "Gentlemen"

From a changing room:


This sign has a multitude of problems:
Number one is "It exists, and therefore damns the entire male gender."
Number two is "The targets exist, despite the wide availability of bludgeoning instruments."
The third is "assuming the target can read", which is like a sexy co-ed hoping that the axe murderer is distracted by the fine lacework on her skimpy nightie. Any information campaign has to intelligently target their audience, and "writing" might be a bit highbrow for someone prepared to walk into a public place and fire their face into the facilities like a snot-loaded shotgun.

Perhaps marking the area with urine or a dismembered carcass might be better suited, and still less disgusting than naked men blasting streamers of mucus, like the worlds worst party-popper, all over the place people wash their hands. Or at least did until they saw this sign.

"Refrain" is a problem too. Some snotgunners might actually read the sign, because even Neanderthal man made marks on the walls of his cave, but "refrain" will jam both their neurons until someone finds an English-to-grunt dictionary. When scientists taught gorillas sign language they used words like "hello" and "pretty", rather than "Felicitations" and "delightful". I wouldn't want to make insulting comparisons, but gorillas have never come into my sports center and blown their noses into the goddamn sink.

Luke Online: Week Ending Feb 9 2009

What's more fun than annihilating your inferiors with one hundred and fifty kilograms of minigun?
Getting paid for it! Like I did with Five Things To Do While Slowed By Natascha for the fine folks over at Lowpings.









We had a lot of fun at the Daily Galaxy this week. The biggest hit was Unnatural Selection: Evolving, Improving, Implacable Robots. Or as I prefer to look at it,
Oh yes. Other enjoyabilities included Black Hole Bullshit: Five Rubbish "Risks" Of The LHC, making ecologists burn butterflies for solar power, people getting upset over fossils, and the recent highs and lows of Google projects. In this case "highs" means Atlantis and Mars, "lows" means cutting off the internet. Important chaps, Google.









Ever wanted to get your ass arrested while being sure that ass has more cheeks than you have IQ points? Follow the fine example of these phone felon folk. And which costs more: watching TV, a duck quacking, or phoning a sex line? The answer isn't what you think, but since you're actually able to read you probably aren't the guy who was charged thirty thousand pounds for an episode of Prison Break. Also, SND POLICE KTHXBAI!, mobile phone gaming beating the recession and Motorala losing over three billion dollars (presumably down the back of a sofa ten miles tall and made of unicorn skin).











(Just click outside the stupid "Join Now" box)

I love this bit, where "bit" is "where I get paid for eating and drinking." This week: gigantic sausages on sticks (yes, plural sticks are required), valentine-compatible drinks, and I recoup a few percent of a five hundred dollar bar bill (worth every cent).










Seven internet-enabled reasons you should be able to sterilize people via HTML at 7 Retarded Hate Sites. Bonus: people burning effigies of herbs in public!







I look at how actually leaving the computer and dealing with co-workers might help. But that assumes you have the kind of job where you arent' reading this, so maybe you should just stay put.

What to do with Absolut


Through no fault of your own, you may end up with a bottle of Absolut. Maybe it was a gift from a now ex-friend. Maybe your future child is a vital resistance leader, but time-traveling robots are making sure your sexy Russian secret agent lover storms out of your flat in disgust instead. Maybe you got really drunk and did something stupid, but weren't lucky enough to just wake up with a bloodstained knife.

The fact is you're now stuck with a liter of the worst vodka in the world. Throwing it out would break Rule Number One of having a liquor cabinet. Actually drinking it would break all the others. I've been stung by an atrocious excess of Absolut as part of my scientific study of alcohology, specifically the chapter on "containers I wouldn't disrespect my bladder by pissing into", and can offer four options for exorcising your drinks shelf.

To use Absolut in a cocktail, you can:
  1. Find some ingredient that absolutely obliterates the taste of anything it's mixed with. To cancel the awfulness of Absolut I can only recommend plutonium, the fluids of rotting durian, or maybe Kryptonite. It's a radioactive poison used by billionaire villains to kill the embodiment of good, so it might be evil enough to shift the contamination of Absolut.
  2. Serve it in a poisoned cocktail, but only to somebody you really hate. Murder might be a matter of business or convenience, after all, but knowingly serving a bad cocktail is a real crime. And make sure they're dead or now they'll really be upset.
  3. Molotov cocktails do technically qualify. Engaging in an armed insurrection may seem extreme, but remember that your only other option is to actually drink the stuff and tasings just don't hurt that bad.
  4. Movies tell us that you can throw any old spirit over a wound as an antiseptic. Granted, most of those movies also feature the ravening undead and so might not be absolutely A-one on the medical front. Plus, I fancy my chances against a good solid dose of the T-virus which certainly can't taste be worse than the Swedish poison, even counting the taste ofyour own tongue necrotising.

Odd Online Auctions

The fine folk at Norton Today have run another of my articles. Truly, they are masters of taste and discretion, especially the taste of
a) A flake of corn sold for the price of a plasma screen
b) A fire-engine party bar at the price of AWESOME
c) Criminal stamp collecting.

Note: only two one of the above have human-compatible tastes, and the latter is gluey.

You can read the article here:

Luke Online: Week Ending 31/1/2009

This website has a tendency to echo and be colonised by bats despite my writing more than a deaf-mute debating club. To combat this scarcity I'll be linking my offsite here content in regular posts from now on.









Galapagos Goat-Murder for Fun and Conservation
Greenhouse Gas Probing Satellite
Scary Space Stalker
LHC Risk-Rubbish Rubbished
Extraterrestrial Essentials For Life
Bacterial Traitors to Sabotage Sicknesses











What's new in the World at War?

What's new is Tanks. TANKS.

TANKS!


Hell YES this game is fun!








OMG DUMB TXTS!
Blackberry Boss to users: "Suck It"
Russian Runaway Mobile Mogul
Brewster's Millions in Phone Form












(Just click outside the stupid "Join Now" box)

Ginger Milk
Chicken Knees
Fried Sandworm

Short form: eating weird stuff is fun. I don't talk eating eyeballs though. That was less fun.











Ten Weird Browser Extensions

There's a browser-bit which actually blocks idiots. But if we all used it the internet would disappear.









Paintballs: Apparently 'Bad' For Eyes

Yes, it's a real medical study. No, I don't know who paid for it, but intend to find out and have them sponsor my ten-year "Drink: How do livers really feel about that stuff?" study.

China 2009-a: The Awesome Asian Arcade

My day was made by finding the sort of wonderland Asian arcade I'd always dreamed of. A palace of play, a magic land of clean floors, adequate lighting and well maintained machines. It was utterly different from any Western entertainment emporium. For one thing, it was still alive. For another, it actually cared about the games and players, while any Western arcade I've ever played in viewed the same way an exterminator views rats: the reason they're able to make money, and there the only remotely positive property ends.

They had the very latest game, Street Fighter IV, and it was glorious to behold. Two machines sitting back to back on a raised stage, huge cardboard cutouts and all, a chain fence to make sure the maestros in action weren't hassled and digital relay screens set up so that the entire audience can get an unobstructed view.
The least athletic cage-match ever
Even better, one machine was free! I failed to contain a squeal of joy, told my tokens they were going to a better place and sat down at the machine. Which instantly connected me to death.

What I didn't know (despite it being quite obvious in retrospcet) was that the machines were set up back-to-back for epic two player matches, so my innocent tokens had pitted me against the Chinese teenager at the other machine. Let me just say: on my best game, on my best day, I could maybe draw against a Chinese teen with a bad cold and one hand amputated. Here I can't tell you how quickly I was obliterated because I wasn't carrying my atomic clock.

I decided to wait my turn, but the only thing able to to beat him was the final boss, Seth (aka "Fast Dhalsim-with-a-Dragon-Punch"), and every time it did he'd run down the clock, put in his coins and start again. Clearly the only way to play was to beat him and let me tell you: if you have the mental skill level to do so you'll find it easier to just Force choke him.

Luckily this drove me to tour the vast, multi-roomed recreation center, where I found RAMBO.
You're goddamn RIGHT I want to play that!
The best light gun game I've ever played, and I've played their entire history.

My very first home console game was Duck Hunt. I used to play Wild Gunman drawing the Zapper from my pocket, despite how that made it physically impossible to beat level 5. For the PS1 I owned TWO GunCons back when there were only that many reasons to own one (Time Crisis and Point Blank, and yes I'm counting the entire Time Crisis series as one game). Of all those and a thousand more, beating every House of the Dead and Silent Scoping the safety of a nation, RAMBO fucking RAMBOes them to smithereens then machine-guns every single smithereen into smithereenettes.

1. It uses actual scenes from the movies as cut scenes. This alone should make it the best game ever as nothing will make you want to shoot things until they explode more than watching John Rambo kill an entire army.

2. It's intelligent about the plots of the later movies, if putting those two concepts in the same sentence doesn't make the universe explode, by realising it just doesn't matter. Chapter 4 happens before Chapter 1, with 2 and 3 several years later, just so that the game opens with the "at the border epic battle" - no make-you-wait for the good stuff bullshit here.

3. It uses the "little clock above their head until they shoot you" system, but the sheer number of enemies means it works. In other games that turns even the most desperate NYPD showdown into a fairground game of shoot the harmless targets with the occasional gradually threatening duck. Here it forces you to prioritise, and since any unattended enemy can start ticking you still have to kill quickly.

4. You can blow up ANY unarmoured vehicle, and when you shoot a grenade out of the air? It kills anyone near the explosion. This game loves explosions, and if you're careless enough to let a few seconds of the first stage pass without blowing something up your allies will goddamn do it for you, pussy.

5. Yes, you get to take out a chopper with a bow and arrow. Yes, it is fucking awesome.

6. This game understands Rambo - there is absolutely NO reward for burst fire or conserving ammo. With a clip the size of the Empire State building and the classic "don't do this with a real gun" finger over the sensor reload (outside of the screen is strictly scrub territory) you can shoot forever. But it still rewards accurate fire, without which even the most otherwise perfect gun game is pure pointlessness.

7.
Rage.

RAGE.
RAAAAAAAAAGE!

Your reward for effective shooting things and explosions is AN INCREASED ABILITY TO SHOOT AND EXPLODE WHILE RAMBO YELLS. This is without question the best thing every to happen in an arcade game, and I was shaking with adrenaline and maniacal laughter as I shredded a population roughly equivalent to Luxembourg in five seconds. I would play this game every day if I could. Hell, I'd couple the coin slot to a timer and use it as an alarm clock, the only problem being I'd need a solid steel coffee pot and an armour plated shower to survive ME JUST KICKING THEIR ASSES.

To calm down I played the worst light gun game in existence, Jurassic Park III. Or rather, Jurassic Park III rendered on the most horrible gun cabinet ever - I would normally say I wouldn't have inflicted this arcade abomination on anything, but if I was, it would be Jurassic Park III. I was spurred to this mistake by fond memories of the Jurassic Park game, and found that III is very faithful to the movie - in that it is to the good first game exactly what the third movie was to the good first movie.

The machine's only gimmick is a large curved potential screen area. I say "potential" because the damn thing can still only display a regular-sized screen
, crudely directed by mirror onto a large seventy degree arc. In theory this means the game can excitingly pan up to attacks from above, in practice it means the game spends a third of the time in badly deformed squashed-o-vision, and since the display has to slowly pitch up there its about as surprising as knitting.

Once you're finished being underwhelmed by the screen, you can get down to the business of being disgusted by the guns. Ribbed purple plastic with smooth sections they look like nothing but dildos - and they'd likely work better as those, as they're certainly uncontaminated by anything as uncomfortable as "sights". You check in amazement thinking that maybe some vandal broke them off - but no, smooth plastic. Then you see the crosshairs on the screen. The horrible, floaty sights which make it clear why there are no sights - there are calculators better at detecting aim than this game.

Of course the game itself sucks. I'll only tell you that the first mission is to rescue a guy who, on being attacked by a few tiny dinosaur, runs out of the army base and into the large-dino filled jungle. I can honestly see this looking like sensible behaviour to the game designers, but only if they couldn't find any napalm to cover themselves with.