So the past couple days in the world of video games have been pretty dead news-wise. The only real major headline was the long awaited release of Doom 3 and not much else. Granted, there’s always stuff that’s under the radar, like the first series of Doom 3 mods, a rather interesting Miyamoto interview from Australia (thanks mostly to the writer and his comment that Seamus Blackley and Lorne Lanning are “luminaries”), some new footage of Jeff Minter’s Unity (and running on OS X, OMG!!! … just joking), news that Chu Chu Rocket is finally available on the Sega CD, and even a fairly amusing Fark Photoshop thread which asks what the NES would have been like if it was released by Microsoft.

But the only real news is a video from the recent EVO2K4 Fighting Game Championships that has everyone talking. It’s a match between arguably two of the greatest fighting game players in the world. I’ve uploaded the unzipped movie, so if you haven’t seen it yet, here’s your chance.

Now here’s the story behind the clip…
First off, the game is Street Fighter 3 Third Strike, widely regarded as the most sophisticated and complex 2D fighting game ever created. One of the key aspects which gives it so much more depth than other “button mashers” is the use of parries. For those who have never played a fighting game… when an enemy is attacking, you can protect yourself by blocking the attack. In the case of 2D games, this is normally achieved by pressing back, away from the opponent and the attack. You can block almost any attack; blocking a normal attack will result in zero energy loss, BUT blocking a special attack, or a “super attack”, which is a flurry of especially powerful special attacks, will result in some energy being loss. Even though the amount is nothing when compared to actually taking the damage head on, it can make the difference in a close match. This is a very important point.

In SF3, you can also choose to parry, which is more or less, “brushing off” the attack. Doing so will result in no loss of energy, no matter what kind of attack it was. The thing is, it’s super difficult to pull off successfully; to parry, you need to tap the control stick forward to “greet” the attack. Precise timing is key, and considering the speed of many attacks, it takes a real expert to pull of parries with any degree of consistency.

Speaking of, the players in the video is Justin Wong, who is controlling Chun Li, and Daigo Umehara, who is using Ken. As I said, both are top ranked players and have fought long and hard to reach the championships. The key to being an expert player is having a strategy or play style that works consistently. Wong has one, which manages to produce results and get under almost everyone’s skin at the same time. What Wong likes to do is “turtle” which means huddling in the corner, which makes him very hard to hit. While in that position, he likes to chip away at this opponent with very quick, and hard to defend, attacks. This almost always frustrates any opponent, which will cause him or her to act hastily, which Wong of course is more than happy to capitalize upon. Sitting in the corner and just hitting quick attacks is also a great way to build up his super meter…. which gets filled whenever a move in performed. Once full, a super attack is ready to be unleashed.

Anyway, not only does Daigo hate Wong’s turtling tactics, but he was also mad at Justin for destroying a friend of his earlier in the tourney, and did so wearing the friend’s color (you can choose the color of your character’s outfit). So the theory is that Daigo let his power get low on purpose so Wong would rush in hastily with a super move, which he did. Chun Li is an ultra swift character, and her super is lightening quick. Then, as you saw, Daigo parried every single kick…. about 17 in only 5 seconds… which requires practically superhuman reflexes. Bare in mind Daigo didn’t block because he had so little energy remaining that it would have still cost him the match.

The video shows both Wong and Daigo playing, with Wong to the right. If you look closely, you can see Wong panic just as he starts his combo; he starts slapping the buttons furiously since only then did he realize his mistake. First off, any Street Fighter player knows that mashing the buttons in such an instance does nothing, so it’s natural to think that he’s just having a temper tantrum. But others theorize Wong was simply trying to cause a distraction to throw Daigo’s timing off. Once again, the amount of concentration to pull off such a feat is nothing short of amazing, but to do so in such a crowded and loud arena, with so much pressure and pride at stake (plus a very healthy cash prize for the winner), just shows how level headed and tuned Daigo is. I should also state that there is a large amount of hate when it comes to Wong; despite being top ranked, most feel he’s an overrated player who uses a host of cheap tactics, though whether if this is simply the truth or just jealousy is open to debate.

But the icing on the cake is not only the last parry in which Daigo jumped to achieve, but how he uses that to segue into a super move of his own to finally take down Wong (and at which point the crowd goes totally nuts). Then comes the thundering adulation of every nerd… I mean spectator…. in the building. It’s up there will any game winning shot from Jordan, last second touchdown from (insert famous football player name here, sorry I don’t watch the game) or bottom of the inning home-run by (once again, insert famous baseball player name here, I don’t like baseball either).

There are many theories as to why Wong acted the way he did. Why didn’t he simply continue to turtle the rest of the match, especially so close to victory? Was it the pressure or ego? Before he got decimated, was Wong jumping around doing random moves to confuse Daigo, or simply trying to build up his power meter? If so, why didn’t he wait till both meters will filled (you get more than one), which would have allowed two super moves in a row? And if that happened, would Daigo been able to parry such a massive offense? Many believe yes, because he’s just that damn good.

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08/09/2004

For The Thrill Of It All

by Matthew Edward Hawkins

This weekend was easily one of the nicest weather-wise in a very long time, which made the return trip to Coney Island all the more enjoyable.

Saturday was Circus Day at Coney Island’s Astroland Park, which meant clowns, guys on stilts, and that slightly annoying bearded woman who’s been interviewed in practically every single documentary about Coney Island ever made, all over the place to entertain the kiddies. Unlike the Siren Fest from a few weeks back, this was more or less a family oriented affair, meaning no huge crowds of annoying Williamsburg kids, which translated to a far more relaxed and lighthearted vibe all throughout. But there was still a stage, and music on-hand; Vic Thrill, who my friends and I are huge fans of, was scheduled to perform at Siren, but had to cancel due to a freak downpour. So we made it a mission to check him out this time around. But before that was Li’L G N’ R, an all kids Guns N’ Roses tribute band…

I have to admit, it was pretty cute (especially Li’ L Slash who simply leans back with his guitar during a solo…. simple, yet effective), but the novelty of a bunch of 10 year olds jumping up and down with fake guitars and belting classic G N’ R tunes was only about three songs long. They started out with “Welcome to the Jungle” and then went to “Sweet Child O’ Mine” (of course). But just as we all thought they were going to end things on a high note with “Paradise City,” they did “November Rain,” which was a poor choice for a number of reasons (hey I love the song, but an almost 9 minute power ballad for a bunch of absent minded prepubescents is a bad idea). It’s at this point, the whole thing started to really fall apart: Li’ L Slash was wondering aimlessly, Li ‘L Duff looked totally out of it (which now that I think about it, is pretty accurate from what I recall of the real Duff onstage) and when it finally came time to sing the last song, which was Paradise City of course, Li’L Izzy had stopped carrying her guitar and Li’l Axel was totally missing all of her cues.

Just off stage was a bunch of Russian prepubescent gymnasts who found the music intolerable and all covered their ears. They went on next and were pretty impressive, with all the juggling and balancing on huge rubber balls they did. You know what they say about Russian girls…. well one was only 11 or 12 and she was already sporting rather hairy underarms (on a related noted, I think one of the funniest things a female Russian coworker told me is that the reason why she doesn’t want to get married is cuz that’s when all Russian women grow hunched shoulders and mustaches… remember, this from the mouth of an uber Russian hottie and not some ignorant American male pig, so there ya go). There were also these two girls in their early (maybe pre) teens who simply stood in place and twirled batons to “We Will Rock You”, but weren’t very good; they dropped their batons a few times, their choreographed routines were way out of sync, and it was overall a pretty laughable, and sad, display. Later I caught both of them on the boardwalk smoking. I don’t know why I thought they were so young, cuz up close they were clearly in their late teens, maybe early twenties

We didn’t stick around for the other performers, which were just as bad as those two girls, but in-between each act were the “Winn’s Thrills of the Universe” who walked inside (and outside) a huge rotating wheel, high above the crowd, and also rode motorbikes within an encased steel ball, which was all pretty impressive. With time to kill before Thrill, we found one of the few clean spots on the beach and soaked in some sun and I got to check out the usual beach sights: seagulls, hot chicks in bathing suits, not so hot chicks and bathing suits, and fay guys trying to fight Capoeira style.

Once it was time for Thrill to hit the stage, we went back to the action. But once we were all front and center, something seemed odd: once again there was a mass of angst ridden Williamsburg kids. Seems that Vic was running late so the band after him… can’t recall their name… went on next. We all quickly left the crowd, got some funnel cake and hot dogs, and simply waited. It rained for exactly 30 seconds, but there was enough dark clouds to make us worried that Vic’s performance would be cancelled yet again due to unexpected shitty weather, but he did hit the stage despite being over an hour and a half late and with just a small handful of people in the audience.

The performance was simply a blast. Vic was the total antithesis of the band before him, and the same could be said about each performers’ crowd. As Vic was rocking the stage, one thing was quite clear: he was enjoying himself. Those other guys, from what I could gather, were like very other oh-so tragic hipster band, with looks of constant pain for no plausible reason. If it “hurts” so much to sing those songs, get off the fucking stage, take an Advil, and take a Goddamn nap ya pussies. Vic was even dressed for the part; he looked like a motherfuckin’ rock star; those other guys were even dressed pretentiously, in stupid matching suits. Christ, were they there to play music or cater a bar mitzvah? And then there’s the audience. Even though there was just a small handful of us (which actually grew with curiosity seekers as Vic played on) we were all loving the music and not afraid to show it. There was a good cross section of people, of different backgrounds and ages. What did the other band have? A sea of idiots all the same age, the same social background, and all wearing the same “cute” anti-Bush shirts (Yeah, Bush sucks. I get it. I hate him too. In fact, I think it’s safe to say, at least here in New York City, almost everyone hates him, so you’re preaching to the choir folks. Also, yes, he is an idiot, thanks for the news flash. Guess what, we’re in New York, Kerry is gonna win, so you can all relax now) and dripping with same type of anger anyone would get if they lived in a nice studio apartment right on Bedford Ave which mommy and daddy (rich lawyers from Long Island, of course) pays for while attending NYU, though more time and effort is spent hanging out at parties to talk about how “Friendster is so lame, and that the real action is at MySpace”, or how eating meat is so retarded, as are the people who do so (all while wearing at least two forms of leather), or how awesome mobile blogging is. But I digress…

But yeah. Vic was awesome, but due to some ridiculous time constraint, there was only time for just five songs, so he simply stuck to his standards (which includes my favorite, Hummingbird Pneumonia) so I can’t complain.

Also, Li’l G N’R is going to be at CBGB’s Gallery to go head to head in a Mini Metal Battle of the Bands against…. their “arch rivals”… Tiny Motley Crue?

EDIT: That already happened in June. Damnnit!!!

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08/05/2004

Jessica’s Story (Chapter 3)

by Matthew Edward Hawkins

During my freshman year of SVA, I met a girl in the writing resource center (it’s a place for students to write papers, and seek assistance if they needed it, which was primarily for foreign students). She was super tall (easily around 6’5), looked like a super model, and just arrived from Russia to study photography (or something). Even though she could speak English well enough, her ability to write the language was pretty shakey. The girl had a paper to write but was having a really rough time; she was there to see a tutor, but this person wasn’t there, so the girl was having a meltdown of sorts. So I stepped in and offered to lend a hand. After a few hours, I helped finish some art history report that was due the very next morning, and she was very much grateful. Considering how shy I was with the opposite sex at that point (hell, I still am), I’m surprised that I found the courage to ask her out to dinner, but I did, and was totally ecstatic that she said yes. Her name was Larisa.

The next night, or the one after that, we met and had a very romantic dinner at Wendy’s (hey, it was here choice; she LOVED American fast food). Then we had drinks at a local dive joint. Once both of us were nice and drunk, we ended up at her place, which was this super tiny studio on 3rd Ave. Making out was fun, if a bit awkward considering the difference in height, but I certainly didn’t mind.

Things got pretty hot and heavy, and she turned out to be the rough type. She liked to bite. Hard. So hard in fact that she bit down on my right nipple and tore off half of the top layer of skin. IT HURT LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER. I screamed as you might imagine, and not one of those “I’m in ecstasy!” kind of screams, but a “Holy fuck, I’ve been shot!” kind of yelp. And man did I bleed like a wounded animal, and I started breathing like one too. But the thing was… I kinda liked it.

Just so you know, I’m not an S&M freak, but I guess I just went with the flow and we really didn’t stop (she sure as hell didn’t look surprised or apologetic with what she has just did). Soon after we went straight for the sex, which was pretty messy as you might imagine. Not only did I really not stop bleeding, but any contact with the exposed area was excruciating. But still the sex was good. What happened afterwards though wasn’t.

No sooner than about 20 seconds after I had “finished”, she threw me off, ran into her bathroom, and locked the door. Then I could hear very loud sobs. I was totally confused and wondered if I had done anything to hurt her. I went to the door to console her, but she was murmuring mostly in Russian. When I asked what was wrong, she answered half if English, half in Russian, that she had just cheated on her boyfriend and she felt like something in Russian.

After about 15 minutes, I figured it was maybe best to leave, so I washed up in her kitchen sink the best I could, got dressed, and went home. I took the subway home and everyone on the train looked at me funny. I looked down and there was a huge red splotch on my shirt, almost like I had been shot! Once back at my dorm apartment, I put some ointment and a band-aid, and assumed it would heal up just fine.

But it didn’t. Granted the bleeding had stopped, but instead, my nipple was constantly oozing yellow puss. It would cover my nipple and form a thin crystalline layer, which would eventually harden and start to crack, then flake off. No matter what I did, skin would simply not grow back. I would always wear bandages, and after a while, it seemed totally okay and I stopped. But then, at the end of the day or two, I would notice a yellow spot on my shirt and that it was sticking to the skin. Pulling it off meant the thin layer of puss/skin getting ripped off as well and the cycle would continue. Some good shirts were ruined by this.

After awhile, the band-aids themselves were causing problems. Since the same spot was constantly getting covered by the sticky part, as well as having it removed, a rash began to develop in that area. Plus my nipple was starting to change colors; instead of pink, it was getting brown. With yellow puss on top, of course.

So here I had this one brownish nipple that oozed yellow gunk, with a perfect rectangle rash surrounding it. I was in hell.

I don’t know why I didn’t think about seeing a doctor, or at the very least, the school nurse (my reluctance in seeking medical help is a running theme in many of my stories), but thank God one friend at least made the suggestion about two and a half months into such ridiculousness. So I went to the nurse, who immediately gave me a special cream, and instantly made me feel 100% I pondered why everyone thought she was such an idiot. But every-time I went to see her again over the years, no matter what the ailment, she constantly asked “How’s that nipple?” or called me “Nipple Boy” and eventually began to despise her like everyone else.

So anyway, after a while, the nipple began to heal and new layer of skin began to grow back. But it was a while before it retunred to it’s original color (I’m talking years here) which was pretty embarrassing. As was the whole story behind it, but I found it at least humorous, hence why I shared it with all my friends. So I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised by all the requests to see the wound, but I only did so sparingly, and only for members of the opposite sex, and even then it was more of a “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours” type of thing (you laugh, but trust me, it actually worked).

Eight years later and my right nipple has enjoyed looking like the left one for about four years now. But it’s still VERY sensitive. So what’s the moral of the story kids? Learn your English.

Oh, and I decided to share the story on the Gaming Age Forums. Check out what they had to say here.

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