A Fete Worse Than Death?

We went to The Great Exhibition last night. This statement alone of course requires some clarification. By "We" I refer to myself of course, but also B-San and S-San. By "Exhibition" I mean a Steampunk themed evening of various entertainments and by "Great" I mean yeah, that was pretty cool.

If you want a working definition of Steampunk I shall offer only this insight from B-San: "It's goth, but without the dickheads".

So, what was happening? Well there were various acts and bands perfoming on stage, a variety of interesting and expensive goods were on sale or display, and all about were a variety of interestingly attired individuals. Obviously there were a lot of goggles wandering around, but the attire ranged from the expected pseudo victoriana through to 40's and 50's and beyond. So just looking at the crowd was interesting enough.

The acts on offer gave a fair variety of entertainments. Obviously some were better than others, depending on your tastes. For example we had an interesting chap called Bruce Airhead who climed inside a balloon in a suprisingly interesting way, and Voltini, who aside from being made of raw SCIENCE! actually shoved an electrode right up his arse. That might not sound particularly enticing, but then he did light a peanut butter sandwich on fire using an electric woman.

I guess I'm saying that you really had to be there.

Despite arriving somewhat later than intended, and leaving somewhat earlier a good time was had by all. But then we had V.I.P. tickets, and were thus inherently special. If no other reason than we didn't have to engage in the standard melee to reach the bar with the rest of the proles. Shockingly however there was a distinct lack of tea on offer, which was a little dissapointing.

Especially when you consider the whole thing was MC'd by this guy:

107 Hours 31 Minutes

You may find the title of this post somewhat confusing. I certainly do. It doesn't seem quite right somehow. But that is the length of time according to the Wii that I have been playing Metroid Prime Trilogy.

Now, a fair amount will be taken up with navigating menus, browsing extras and leaving it paused whilst you go for a sandwiches or whatever, but still. Do the maths. Thats nearly 3 working weeks. All spent playing video games. THREE video games.

AS you may have guessed from those statistics, I fucking love me some Metroid.

I bought the game back in January. It's one of those ones I'd been meaning to get for some time, but was just waiting for the price to go down a bit. Then the announced it was limited edition and they'd stopped making it. Like a twat I immediatly rushed off to panic buy it, and ended up paying far more than I should have. Specifically, I got it online for £45. When I was down the town a few weeks later and saw it for £20 I was, as the saying goes, not amused. But you know what? I don't really mind, because I've enjoyed it so much. ONE HUNDRED HOURS gameplay. Seriously. You can't argue with that. Less than 50p per hour, and thats only for the first runthrough.

Put simply, if you don't already own Metroid Prime Trilogy and you see it priced at £2o, FUCKING BUY IT. I don't care if you don't even own a Wii. You can get one later. This is some serious value for money.

So, what specifically, do you get? Well, as the title may have subtly hinted, you get all 3 Metroid Prime games. 1st person action/adventure with shooting, puzzles, exploration and all manner of tasty goodness. All look fantastic to me, but I suppose some might complain that it's not all HD-super-shiny-uncanny-valley-and-everything's-either-grey-or-brown-bleeding-edge-of-tedium-whatever-generation, but fuck those guys.

The games are played using the Wiimote for aiming and the Nunchuck for running around, the older portions of the trilogy having upgraded from their steam driven stone age console versions. And it works. It works REALLY well. It's wierd how the Wii is probably the best console for FPS style games when they seem much more prevelant on the other "grown up" systems. Not that Metroid is massively about shooting mind you. Whilst there are obviously enemies to be defeated I personally find the most entertaining parts the exploration and puzzles. The constant search for new abilities and power ups driving you forward. There's always some new objective, and it does get a little addictive at times. You spend an evening working through a section, defeat the boss and get the next power up, which you can then use to access the next section. Only rather than saving, quitting and going to bed like a sane person you remember how there was that room you passed at some point in the distant past that you can now go explore. It's great. Really.

One thing that did strike me as quite odd was the platforming type sections. Because there is no way in hell that any sort of platforming should really work in an FPS styl game (even though they always like to put a bit like that in), but here it really does work well and doesn't get aggravating at all. Well, maybe some of the Screw Attack bits in part 2, but thats only because I'm rubbish at it.

Whilst it's probably a good idea to take a bit of a break between each game I didn't find it particularly repetative, with each part having something to offer of it's own. PArt 1 is obviously the base, with part 2 offering up a march darker themed chapter and expoiting the good old dark world concept, before we move onto part 3 and things get REALLY intergrated to the Wii control system, offering up a host of new options. I'd say that part 2 was probabably overall the harder of the 3, and part 3 is by far the easiest. However that may just be because by the time I got onto part 3 I was rather more experienced. Part 1 seemed to have a couple of the hardest bosses though, oddly. Again this may be in part attibutable to experience. Still, the boss battles were largely exciting rather than aggravating, which I was most grateful for. There's nothing worse than playing through a game you enjoy only run up against some aggravating boss you can't beat until you've memorised it's every eaxact movement through all 27 of it's final forms. I fuking HATE that shit.

I suppose there's only really one major criticism I can state, and that concerns the extras. Now there's a lot of stuff to unlock, which is good. As you go through the various games doing various things you get various credits which you can then spend on unlocking stuff. All well and good. But then we get to part 3 and the green credits. All the really interesting looking extras need green credits. Only you can't actually get them. At all. Because those come from friend vouchers. These you gain like every other credit, only you can't spend them youself, only give them away to people on you friend list.

So, in order to actually unlock all the stuff you must first have at least one friend with a Wii AND they have to be online AND they have to be in your friend roster AND they have to have Metroid Prime Trilogy AND they have to have completed it as well AND they have to be trustworthy enough that you can safely exchange your hard won credits with.

Did anyone else notice the large amount of clauses there?

Now, I like the IDEA of friend vouchers. But why must they be a unique currency? Why not make it so that you can trade tokens of whatever color? You know, so you could help each other unlock stuff rather than requiring it? To say that I was rather dissapointed tto find out that I'm denied access to the extras for the crime of not having any friends with Wiis and the other 6 clauses required was a bit of an understatement, and did in fact rather sour the triumph of finally beating the monstrosity.

That said, the actual GAMEPLAY was fun, and I'd say that the game does have some replay value, since I didn't actually manage to get 100% on any of the various parts. However that is a task for the future, as I really should do something with my life OTHER than play Metroid for 3 months straight.

Sick Note

"And so I awoke, on that fateful day, not to the welcome dawn of earth, but to an alien sun in an alien sky. A green orb hung, huge and ponderous in a purple sky, the scintillating stands of what surely must be clouds glowed with their own luminescence, and low on the horizon the first of three alien moons was slowly descending below the horizon, framed by bluish peaks of a scale never contemplated by the men of earth.

Arising from the bed of unknown grass upon which I found myself, I spied in the distance a strange forest, shining in the light of the alien dawn. Lacking any clear plan or direction, it was towards this forest that I travelled first. Perhaps it might afford me shelter and sustenance, a brief respite to attempt to puzzle out my situation. Though, if anything grew in these strange soils that might provide me with anything more than a tortuous death by poisoning I could not say.

The trees, if trees they were seemed to made of crystal, transparent and delicately hued in all colours. As the sun rose they would catch the light, giving off scintillating rainbows in a sight of unmatched beauty.

It was here, wandering the crystalline bowers and shining pathways of this strangest of places that I finally encountered life. The creature dropped from the branches before me, a strange amalgamation of ant and primate. Though it spoke only in voice of irregular clacking mandibles and shrill scream like noises it seemed to me that there was whisper in my mind, and I understood!

This strange individual proffered me a piece of yellow fruit, presumably plucked from on high and bade me eat. Though unlike any flavour I had before tasted the fruit was good, and I felt much restored.

Long we sat there, in the shade of crystal trees, and talked. Though my companions’ appearance seemed alarming, I was not afraid in any measure, for the whisper in mind calmed all fears. Indeed, he expressed that he found my appearance to be equally bizarre. I cannot recount his name here; for no human language has yet evolved that can adequately express the sounds or concepts involved. He told me of the history of his race, how they had renounced their once mighty sciences and retreated to the forests for life of contemplative simplicity. Yet in these, the later days of this once great race, they were assailed by a terrible enemy.

Deep in the cyclopean mountains that frame the horizon in such terrible splendour lay the dark Temple of Yuuuul-Thabroosh. And from there its terrible inhuman denizens make forth to pray upon the gentle dwellers of the forests.

Having long since lost the philosophies of war the forest peoples had no way to defend themselves from so terrible an enemy, and thus had gathered the last fragments of their sciences together in order to summon a saviour for their people. One who could take up arms against the darkness and free them from its stalking oppression.

That saviour, I was told, was me.

I protested that I was no hero, and had no expertise or even the barest experience of the arts of war. Yet my companion insisted that it was I alone who, having been selected by their strange and arcane sciences, would be able to prevail against the unspeakable evils that were now prowling the lands. Indeed, he apologised most profuselly for requiring my involvement. However they were, he insisted, quite desperate. Truly no man could turn away from such a plea for help when he outlined the vile depredations his people were suffering. A list of crimes and torments to terrible to ever be recounted again.

Thus it was that I was led to the very centre of the forest, to the last bastion of this noble race. There they received me with much jubilation, and I was presented with the 3 great relics from out of their lost past. Though even the elders knew not their ancient function, I perceived them immediatly to be a mighty bow, and powerful spear and a great curved sword. All were forged of a metal such as I have never seen before, azure and iridescent, light and yet stronger than steel, with edges sharper than blade found on earth. Thus armed with the ancient weapons of the lost times I was presented with a map to the dread temple and given a mighty steed to bear me on my way; part lizard, part spider yet with jaws like a shark. Swiftly it bore me out of the forest and across the majestic plains and hills of this strange new world.

Many days I rode, drawing ever closer to those dread mountains. I was sustained by a supply of that strange fruit which the tribe had seen fit to provision me with. From dawn till dusk I was high in the saddle of my mighty steed, the beast seeming to need no sustenance than the very wind itself. Until, at last I finally came to the base of the largest mountain. I cannot tell how tall this peak stood, for its immensity defied analysis. Its shadow cast the lands around into a freezing night, eclipsing the very sky itself. And here, in a hidden valley lay that dread temple wherein dwelt the very stuff of nightmares. And unto them my destiny compelled me.

The path I trod was bleak and fearsome, for no living thing grew here. There were only the rocks, strange angular formations of fearsome aspect. Their odd shapes seemed to speak of torments beyond the grave, and it puzzled me how any force of nature could have formed them into such twisted shapes. It was as though the foul corruption of that dark temple had bled into the very land itself.

And yet on I pressed. On, into the very heart of corruption itself. My mount again proved its worth, its strange agility taking me over treacherous climbs and hidden falls that no ordinary man could have prevailed against, and I gave thanks to my benefactors for their foresight and wisdom in providing me with this unique beast.

Clambering steadily through the bleak terrain at last I came to the hidden valley wherein lay my final goal. Cloaked in it eternal blackness it lay, hidden forever from the warming light of the sun by the titanic crags and peaks. Here at last I first spied my enemy from afar. A shapeless mass, blacker still against the black rocks. Wasting not a moment I drew the mighty bow with which I had been entrusted and let loose my first arrow. It flew, straight and drew, piercing the shadow at its very heart. As the indeterminate form thrashed and died it loosed a mournful scream, resonant with all the tortures the beast had no doubt inflicted on so many innocents in it's pursuit of its base and vile appetites.

And with that, the battle was joined in earnest. Alerted by the death scream of their fellow, the THINGS came upon me in a rush. My arrows were quickly depleted, though each scored a true kill. Still they came on toward me, their numbers seemingly undiminished. Taking up the ancient spear I urged my mount forward to meet the charge head on!

The horrors I saw that day do not bear repeating. As the horde closed upon me the particulars of their terrible anatomy became apparent, and were I not fighting for my very life I would have looked away in terror. Where men would have limbs or organs there were only masses of tentacles, writhing in madness. Where men had bodies there was only darkness and terror. And where men might have faces I saw only the blackest nightmares of creation.

Onwards I drove into the carnage. From all around they lunged at me, over and over. Their foul, malformed appendages harried me at every turn, and eventually even the fearsome beast upon which I rode was pulled down by the swirling throng of horrors. From its back I leapt further into the charnel horror, and pressed on, on, until my spear was chocked on the bodies of the slain and fell from my grasp. Yet now I was at the very foot of the temple. Despite it all I had reached my goal.

Hewn from the rock by titanic forces this blasphemous cathedral to all that was unholy towered before me. Its pillars twisted skyward as the fangs of some leviathan. The stones were slick with corruption, sweating a ghastly ichor whose stench filled the air in a miasma of decay. The doors towered over me, impossibly large and inscribed with countless scenes of pure horror. Yet they stood open still. The horde in their ambition to reach me had not thought to secure their fortress behind them, and I made way with much trepidation into that dreadful interior.

The only light in that place came from the sword clutched tightly in my hand, a faint shimmering glow that illuminated but the barest area about my person. No walls or ceiling could I detect by its meagre light. Indeed, the sheer size of the chamber gave no impression that I had entered at all. It was like nothing so much as striding across a flat stone plain under a starless, godless sky of impenetrable night.

And yet, in that emptiness something yet stirred. A bloated, cancerous THING, huge and terrible. Blacker still than any of the diseased creatures I had yet slain. It was as if the sum total of that terrible horde had been melded together in body, spirit and horror, and multiplied a thousandfold to create the mountainous enormity that now towered over me.

I raised my sword and readied myself for the final, terrible combat. How I could prevail against this, the very pinnacle of terror I knew not. Yet I resolved to at the least sell my life as dearly as possible. In the infinite darkness of the great hall it shifted, lifting up some blasphemous portion of it's anatomy towards me...

And it spoke.

Its voice was huge, the sheer volume of its words threatened to split my skull, the pressure of the sounds driving me down to my knees. The sounds it made we're terrible to hear. The burbling sickness of cadaverous offal given voice, a sound to shame the plagues of ages. And despite the horror and the terrible fury of its speech, I understood.

And it told me how I had been deceived.

The beasts I had been fighting were not the destroyers of those forest dwelling aliens I had first encountered, but their slaves. The formless horrors were designed, through the forgotten sciences of an ancient age, to service the hidden machines which maintained that strange forest of crystal trees. Stripped of their forms and substance so that they may flow throughout the pipes and mechanisms. It was they who provided the fruits upon which I had feasted, for nothing natural grew in that place. Yet through the many years their masters had grown indolent, cruel and wicked. And had thus decided to make for themselves sport of their tortured servants. And thus I had been cruelly wrenched from my own dimension and set upon them fuelled by lies and dreams of grandeur.

But then why? I asked why did your people set upon me with such demonic ferocity?

And the beast replied: Did you not look upon them? Every second of life to us a thousand torments unimaginable to one of your kind. They clamoured only for the release of death which you brought.

And seeing at last the depth of my folly I collapsed there upon the stinking ground, and for a time did not move.

At last the beast spoke to me once more. It asked me what I would do now. Did I wish to return to whence I had come, back to my own world? Did I wish to avenge myself against my tormentors, who had sent me thus into the very mouth of hell all for their own tawdry amusements?

How would such a thing be possible I enquired? Even if they had the art to send me home I doubted they would have the inclination. Indeed, after learning such terrible secrets I had no doubt they would kill me outright.

And yet, I was told, there was a way. As I was not a being of this dimension I was held here only by the forces of the great engines that even now rumbled beneath the earth. Part of the same incomprehensible network of machines that maintained the environment of the forest and provided a life of tawdry leisure for its cruel and foolish inhabitants. There was one place in this complex that the slave creatures could not enter, for it was armoured in a metal which to them the slightest touch was fatal. I did not need to look down at my discarded weapon to know what form that might take. I however would be able to open the locks and gain access. From there I could destroy the control system for the great machine, breaking the power of my betrayers and denying the forever its comforts. Once the machine ceased its function I myself would no longer be bound to this world and would revert to my natural place.

Where then must I go? I asked the darkness. It told me that I need merely wait. Soon the birthing cycle would begin and the path would be revealed. Before I had a chance to ask what exactly it meant by this a light blossomed in the darkness.
From out of the floor, all around the base of the sickening mountain of flesh unfurled gigantic mechanical arms of that strange shining metal. Some were tipped with blades the size of sails, others with the claws of mice and every variation in between. And as they set about their grisly task I saw how it was the slaves were created.

Great slices of sickly meat were shorn from the bulk of the creature which now stood revealed by the glow of the devices. Would that it were not! The horror of the beast seemed unparalleled, until those arms set about their grisly task. The beasts’ cries threatened to shatter the very rock as those cruel blades cut and tore, dissecting, stretching, stitching and cauterising until finally twisting the foul meat into shapes that were not shapes, yet were terribly familiar to me. These then they cast aside, and against all reason they began to move, slowly twitching, lifting up crude approximations to the heavens and crying in a hollow plaintive agony.

As the machines worked the mass of the beast was slowly reduced, traversing from first the horrors of cancerous corpulent flesh to the horrors of a thousand terrible wounds as a new race of slaves was born from the vivisection of its suppurating flesh. It was clear then why those cruel masters had no qualms about arming me against their servants, for they had an almost infinte supply. As one generation was slain another could be carved out, and only time was needed for the great mother to regenerate its unnatural tissues.

And then I saw it. The machines had moved forward on their tracks, revealing a stairwell leading down, under the beast. Shaking off the horror of all I had thus far witnessed I took up my sword and ran forward. The new born creatures stretched out towards me, their cries tailing off into a mournful keening. I forced myself to ignore these bleak supplications and hurled myself down the stairs. At the bottom lay a door, cast of that shining metal it illuminated the pit in which I found myself. From above came the din of the machines and the cries of tortured flesh, and down the stairs poured the foul, stinking ichor which the beast bled now so profusely, it's excremental stench clogging the air and making me gag. I pulled my feet from the sickly mire that was quickly forming about my ankles and examined the door, seeking some way of gaining entry. In the centre of the door was set a large sphere with numerous indentations all about its surface, all in shapes akin to alien hands. By manipulating this orb I was finally able to open the door and walked at last into heart of the great machine.

The room was bright, as all the walls and devices therein were wrought from the same luminescent metal that the slave creatures found so deadly. About were ensconced many huge crystals, taller than a man. Gold and copper wires ran from these into banks of machinery whose function I could not even guess at. And in the centre of it all was upon a pedestal a glass like dome, linked by countless wires to seemingly every other piece of equipment in the room.

And under that dome sat a human head.

This final indignity was too much, after all I'd seen and done, and I raised the sword with a strangled cry and set about the machines with a devilish fury. The blade shattered the crystals and cleaved into the banks of controls and unknowable devices, sending forth clouds of sparks and great gouts of smoke and flame. Yet I did not stop, I no longer had any thought to my own safety, I merely sought to destroy all within reach. Finally I once more found myself before that dome, and the crime it held. I raised my sword on high and brought it down with all my might.

And just in the instant before the blade cleaved it in two, I swear that severed head OPENED its EYES.

After that I remember nothing more until I awoke in my own bed. Though it seemed impossible, had it all been but a dream? I doubted myself then, but the seeing the clock I started with alarm. For the date could surely not be right. How could I have remained asleep for a full week since last I gazed upon it?"

..................................................

My manager looked up incredulously. "You're still fired."

Sexy Time?

In celebration at having at last completed that godawful book, I now present to you a coulple of items from my portfolio that I think sum up my general attitudes towards the whole supernatural romance/goth porn thing:

It's Coming Down: Part 9 - Final Thoughts

How can one sum a work of such unique characteristics as Night Falls Darkly?

I suppose the best metaphor is it's a bit like screaming. Screaming for hours and hours on end like a deranged crazy person. It's insane and it's horrible but you do have to occasionally pause for breathe before you can start screaming again.

Thats what it's like. It's a cavalcade of duff characterisation, non existent plotting, awful storytelling and turgid faux gothic verbal masturbation, briefly interspersed with odd hints that something interesting could be salvaged if only you gave the concept to a half decent author and let him rewrite it from the ground up. We're told about all kinds of stuff that we never get to see actually happen. The main villain of the piece has a cameo at best and is instantlly dispatched with frightening ease. There is absolutely no sense of consequence to pretty much ANYTHING that happens. Side plots are briefly mentioned and then abandoned without so much as a second thought, as if they'd simply been forgotten about by author and character alike. The most notable and egregarious example of this comes in the shape of the Cuntess Von Bitchy's side quest. I.E. the reason she is even there. You may be supprised to learn she even HAD an appointed task. I'm not actually sure if I ever mentioned it. This is because it has absolutely no bearing on the plot whatsoever. She's meant to be tracking down some OTHER killer. Or checking Wikipedia she gets to investigate the murders which are not confirmed as Ripper kills. These COULD have been used in the main plot in any number of ways, if only to pad Jacks body count a little. Instead they just get ignored. It's frankly baffling. They've obviously done SOME research. So do they take the various events and mysteries and use them to weave a coherent, convergent narrative?

Do they fuck. She'd rather spend hours writing about Sancho and Binto regarding each other with the sort of naked appetite normally reserved for starving men and bacon sandwiches.

This of course brings us onto the next central point of critisism. The "Relationship" of Sancho and Binto. She is a bunny boiling head case. He spends 90% of his time treating her like a complete dick, and the other 10% covertly feeling her up. I don't claim to be any sort of expert in realms of Eros, but surely it takes a bit more than this to build an attraction, let alone a relationship or heartfelt confession of undying love? There is absolutely no reason for these two to wind up in bed together aside from the fact the plothammer decrees it is so, and thus believeability is bludgeoned into submission and we are asked to just accept the RAW GOTHIC DESTINY. The fact that after spending the whole damn book eyeing each other up the climactic tryst is over in a matter of moments is simply hilarity flavoured icing on a shit flavored cake. It's the Twilight principle to Nth degree. Get trapped in an abuse relationship with a creepy old guy, becuase apparently thats romance. Seriously,  who the fuck gets off on this shit? Certainly not me, and I AM a creepy old man. Sure it might be nice to have young ladies flinging themselves at you, but there are limits.

Now, I admit that I came into this project with open and unabashed intention of mocking the whole thing. With a title of such retarded tautaulogical redundancy how could I not. Night Falls Darkly. Dark Falls Nightly. No duh. However I did have a quiet fear at the back of mind. What if it was actually good? What if it failed to live up to the expected cliches, and I found myself actually enjoying the experience?

That these fears proved to be unfounded is somewhat of an understatement. Far from the experience proving to be entertaining enough that I had little or nothing to actually mock I do believe I have spent longer typing out these posts than I have actually reading the damn thing. Certainly The experience has taught me new ways of looking at such things. Indeed, it's only when I've gone to attempt to recount the twisted mess of so called plot that I've truly come to appreciate just how retarded some of it is. When you're reading your mind just sort of skips over it. This, to be fair, is probably for the best. After all this book is probably the nearest thing to brain damage I've ever experienced without letting a tram run slowly over my head.

Then of course there's the problems with the ending. I.E. there isn't one. The plot remains unresolved, the narrative is unconcluded and we are supposed to then eagerly await the sequel. Because of course there's a sequel. And according to amazon theres a THIRD book coming out this year. It is a problem in genre literature, this insistence on long drawn out series of books. It's expected, even required that any fantasy story must run for as long as humanly posible. There are of course rare examples where this approach works. But for every work that desreves to be a series there are ten that don't. A series should comprise of a number of self contained narrative blocks. they can build on what has come before of course. And they should work to some overarching conclusion. But each unit within the series needs to tell it's own story. For whatever needs to be carried forward to the next chapter there should still be closureon what has occured in this segment.

Needless to say, this is not how this book ends at all. it simply breaks midstream, without ever satisfactorily bothering to even explain the events detailed, let alone conclude them. I appreciate that a bit of mystery is good for the story, but this really takes things to far. It's as if the author doesn't even have any clear definition of what these shadow guard people actually are. we have no clear picture of their capabilities, weaknesses or even APPEARANCE.

If you want to write a series then for the love of god FINISH THE FIRST BOOK FIRST.

So then, in summation. Has this been an interesting experience? Yes, I think so. Is this possibly the worst book ever I've ever read? Again, the answer is yes. The worst part of course is that this has only served to confirm all my preconceptions and prejudices about this so called genre. It's terrible the way it lived up to every cliche you could possibly anticipate from such a book.

Actually, no. I take that back. The worst hing is I'm now getting spam from amazon trying to get me to buy more of this shit. It thinks I LIKE it now.

It would be less embarrasing to be getting babyfur porn to my inbox.

Well, barely.

Do Not Want

You know, I thought I was fully prepared for the level of shit I would be dealing with today. I already knew that when I got into to work I had a massively fucked up problem to solve. I knew that it was a Thursday, and thus only horrible things would happen.

But I wasn't prepared for the horror that was awaiting me in my inbox. How could I be? Nothing could prepare you for such a horror.

It's not just that I'd gotten more spam from amazon about badly written porn for sexually frustrated and mentally retarded middle aged women "romance" novels. It was this:

Just sitting there, calmly in the middle of the list. Almost innocuously. Like there's nothing wrong.

If you think I'm overreacting here, just take a look at the title of the book again. Consider the implications.

Amazon is sending me adverts for ABORTION FETISH PORN.

Seriously, what the fuck have I done? Wasn't reading that book punishment enough in itself? Why must I be tormented further. Hounded for the rest of my days by spam pushing the sort of mindlessly semi literate perversion that even the internet pretends it doesn't really exist.

I don't even know where I can go from here. Life is over, nothing has any meaning. But I can't even kill myself. Because then I'll just get spam for suicide fetish porn. I know I keep saying this, but....

It's Coming Down: Part 8 - Are You Familiar With The Concept Of Retrograde Ejaculation?

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It's Coming Down: Part 7 - Hydro-Electric Bloomers

Hey guys, I was playing Kororinpa earlier today and I've totally collected all the green gems! How cool is that, now all I've got to do is complete Mirror Mode and... Oh. You don't want to hear about that do you? You want me to talk about THE BOOK. Don't you? You bastards. It's like you enjoy my suffering or something. Oh well, I suppose someones got to.

So yeah, the shocking cliffhanger from the last chapter is resolved in exactly the way you'd expect, making that one from Dragonfire look like fucking Shakespear. I mean at least that was meta. Anyway Sancho and company decide to team up. But somewhat GRUDGINGLY, just in case you'd forgotten that there is DRAMA happening. To be fair it easy to do sometimes. Still, now that the superfriends have teamed up, there's only one way to proceed, one way to hunt down the notorius killer and bring him to justice before he kills again:

Take Binto out on a date.

The sound you just heard was my head repeatedly colliding with the wall. I mean, REALLY Sancho? You honestly think this is appropriate behaviour? When the Science Patrol found out Geronimon was going to resurect a monster army and destroy the world did they take a day out to gang rape Fuji? NO. They went and got on with the goddamn job. Find the monster and blow it the fuck up.

So, proving himself less capable than a group of people who's very job is to get bailed out by Ultraman EVERY SINGLE WEEK Sancho gets a tatto. Because Binto wants him to. Do I really need to point out the ways in which this a bad idea? You're in Victorian times dude. No Laser surgery for when you come home to find her blowing the milkman. Then she decides she wants to go for a smoke. As in A Hookah. Because everybody loves opium. Anyway the whole affair is just a pathetic excuse for YET MORE sexual tension. Because we're so not bored of that by now. The pages and pages of longing gazes and taught shoulders and heaving bodices and oh look theres goes my dinner. Again. Certainly helps you loose weight this book. Still, this part does give us a frightening glimpse into Bintos so called mind. After indulging her whims twice thus far Sancho asks her what she wants to do next. And she says, quite naturally, that she wants to go to an autopsy. That's right. Her idea of a fun night out is watching dead people have the guts hacked up. How romantic. Sancho for some reason is not exactly taken with this idea, so instead she starts subtly hinting that maybe a good fucking would be an alternative idea, but Sancho STILL isn't quite getting the message just yet that she is FULLY up for it. Perhaps if she'd just say anal we could move on. But he's all " yeahbutnobutyeahbutnoetc" and frankly I'm having difficulty with the whole concept of a man cockteasing a woman to this extent. It just doesn't seem natural. I mean, even I'd have gotten the hint by now, what with all the uncalled for frotage. Still, it is not yet to be, and so we head home for the perfect end to a perfect day.

And no, I don't mean the book spontaneously combusted. I mean Binto gets rejected from medical school. Cockblocked by Sancho once again. Quite why who can tell. maybe he thinks she'll get syphillis from all those whores she hangs out with. But suprisingly she ain't all that impressed with having her lifes dream ruined and exits stage right with a mighty "NNNNNOOOOOOO!!!!".

Moving on with his masterplan to confuse the fabric of reality itself, Sancho tries to marry her off again. Is anyone else getting this? Seriously, is this actually how women think men think? I can't keep up anymore. I'm gonna go look at penguins or something. It'd make as much sense as anything else right now.

Right, I'd feel better for that if I didn't have to keep going with the rest of this post. So yeah, sancho invites some stiffs over but Binto is feeling all rebellious and freaks them out by having boobs and talking about maggots. In that order. So they fuck all fuck off to look at the penguins as well, because let's face it; Antarctica seems like good career move after being in this for even a paragraph. Now plot happens again as it is revealed that the old bag who has been holded up in her room for the past few chapters and indeed hasn't actually been mentioned by me at all yet on account of being so vital to the plot turns out to actually be old man jenkins from the old amusement park! And he would have gotten away with it too, were I not being feacetious. It's actually sancho Jr in a dress. He was the turkey all along.

I know. What? Why? Who? But...? Whatever. Just go look at the penguins again for a bit. So HIS master plan was to... Wait for it... keep Sancho distracted so he could go kill the bad guy that he himself had already catagorically stated they had no chance against alone. And to do this he was camping out in Sanchos house dressed as an old woman.

And STILL it goes on. The dark mysterious past is now revealed!! Sancho Jr was a kill-stealing bitch. Thats it. Thats the deep dark mystery of DRAMA.Junior once killed some guy that Sancho was gonna kill behind his back and now.... Who knows. Frankly Junior seems to be a lot more fussed about it than Sancho. I frankly stopped caring a while back.

So now we return to the magical adventures of Binto. The fact that this actually comes as a relief compared to what we've just witnessed is amongst the more disturbing realisations I've had, but let's press on. So yeah, she fucks off back to the hospital, as nothing helps you forget your man troubles quite like being elbow deep in suppurating guts and venereal disease. Anythings better than whatever's passing for the plot at the moment.

After a hard days scrubbing the crabs off she gets an invite out to the nice handsome doctors pad. Though it's from his mum, which is a little creepy, but whatever. So it's off to yet another grand ball or banquet or whatever. But then Sancho turns up. Shock, horror, whatever. So long story short after some tedium Doctor guy proposes but she of course turns him down since she's still wet for Sancho. But now she's all upset and confused, oh noes. But then who should enter stage left once more but Sancho himself! And he dresses her up as a guy and takes her off to a secret late night autopsy at the club. because I guess they had those back then? But please don't have another embolism just yet, because if you do you'll miss out on the fact that seeing all that cold offal has fired her up and she's now dripping like a leaky church roof. Seriously. Theres yet more lustful frotage, and then they're FINALLY both on the same wavelength. The "we are gonna go home and FUCK LIKE CRAZED MONKEYS" wavelength.

But first! Binto must stop by the Nurses dormitory. You know, where she's been staying after Sancho ruined her life? But if she can't be bothered to remember, why should we care? She's got to let them know she's off for a night of crazed monkey sex with her legal guardian, and not out being killed like a common whore. Also she should probably borrow a mop and a bucket, but I digress.

But my Sancho sense is tingling!! It's the Ripper!! He is here, in this very hospital! And then Sancho gets arrested on an annoymous tip off that he's actually the Ripper. Yeah, just like that. And being an ancient immortal whatnot of unmatched power and brooding he just goes with the cops. Because I guess he can't do "I'm not the droids you're looking for" with a raging hard on. Then, as Sancho goes to jail, goes directly to jail, does not pass go, does not collect £200 someone blows up a brewery and Binto is stuck helping out at the hospital, unable to go for help. At least there's one character with some idea of what an effective plan is. So then SHOCKINGLY Binto gets kidnapped by the ripper after nipping out for a pie. Though that may just be an excuse. Personally I'm inclined to think she was looking for aquite corner to rub one out in after witnessing the evenings carnage. Jack has apparently been watching Silence Of The Lambs again, since Binto wakes up at the bottom of a pit. She doesn't rub the lotion on her skin though. She gets a handful of cryptic bullshit from Jack, and then she gets gassed. Fucker has grenades apparently.

And then she gets rescued. Just like that. One paragraph getting a lungful of mustard gas at the bottom of a pit with a serial killer leering down at her, Next line waking up fine and dandy in the arms of cavalry. Which is the Countess Von Bitch and Sancho Jr. So much for Sancho, you may think. But no, he turns up 5 minutes later, grabs Binto and sends the other two off to fight the big bad on their own, since nothing could possibly go wrong there. Anyway, suddenly he realises that she's seen and heard too much since he was doing whatever it is his mystical powers do. It's not really stated, but he's all "DON'T LOOK AT ME!!!" And threatens her with more amnesia. This obviously doesn't help much since even Binto can work out he's already done that once before. 

But anyway, being pathologically depraved, she's still up for a fuck. And let me tell you, Jack has NOTHING on Binto. She straight up says she wants to fuck Sancho. So that when she goes off and marries the Doctor she can think about Sancho when they're fucking. Seriously. What kind of twisted evil person do you have to be to think like that?  She openly states she will marry another man and callously use him as a substitute. At his point it's not really suprising that Sancho suddenly and mysteriously dissapears. I mean, the woman is clearly deranged. Whilst he may not keep rabbits he does have a sizeable houshold staff, and would you want to come to a bunch oh deal maids simmering away?

And on that note we may at last end this particular installment. On the plus side we're still not entirely sure how dodgy Sancho Jr is. On the downside EVERYTHING ELSE IN THESE FOUR CHAPTERS.

There is however good news. I now have but one installment left to go. The finale approaches. Will Sancho escape the crazed stalking of Binto? Will anyone tell that poor Doctor to stay the fuck away? Will Mary Kelly finally get her walk on, carried off appearence? Who will survive and what will be left of them?

Tune in again, same bat-time, same bat-channel.

Somnabulant Bouffant Ambition

You know, there's a number of issues I could address here. But I'm not going to.

I'm just gonna say this. I have suddenly realised, a good hour or two after getting up, that last night I dreamed that a genie gave me a wish. And I wished for GIANT VK HAIR.

World peace? Feed the hunger? Kill all the stupid people? True love? Riches? No. Two foot spiky hair like I just walked out Final Fantasy the umpteenth. It defied physics. Hair gel that could do that could be used in the construction of a fucking space elevator.

It did, however, look well cool.

In summary then, I hate my brain. There are times when I wish it would just leave me alone.

It's Coming Down: Part 6 - The Plot Thickens... IN MY PANTS!

Oh god. Why? Just why? It's just.... I don't even know anymore. I just want it to stop.

Okay, deep breathes. You can do this. Just edited out the projectile vomiting and no one will ever know. it'll be fine.

So hello and welcome to the latest installment of out thrilling sga in frankly far to many fucking parts. If you may recall last time we left of on the cusp of a dramatic haircut. So what was the terrible secret welling up from the depths of Bintos' amnesia?

She used to cut her Dad's hair.

Oooo. Drama. Quite how we get from a precious memory of a long last parent to nearly fucking up against the wall I'm not sure. Frankly I'm not going to go back into the details as I've only just finished cleaning up from reading it the first time. And no, that wasn't from excitement. So yeah, Sancho's raging lob-on once again takes over from whatever it is passes for his normal mental processes and he's all like "RAAGH!! WE FUCK NOW!! RAAAGGHHH!!!" And Binto is all like "OKAY!" but then Sancho is all like "NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" and kicks her the fuck out. But he does manage to get his hair cut first, so at least he's got his priorities straight. Now we get the fantastic bit where everyone who knows Sancho sees his new haircut and says "But you only cut your hair when....." DUN DUN DUUNNN. Seriously. They never get around to mentioning what the significance of the haircut actually IS. Could be anything. Even numbered years, his team wins the championship, when he's planning on raping the shit out of someone. My persoanl guess is "When you look like a fucking hippy", but we'll just have to wait and see.

Anyway, skipping over the painfully overwraught lumpen prose which is about as arousing as trying to laugh maniacally whilst similtaneously being painfully sick, we shall attermpt to move forward with the plot. I mean, someones got to, right? So Sancho deals with his turgid lust in some undisclosed fashion and heads of to wander the streets looking terribly gothic and dramatic. And in his abscence he promotes Secretary guy to stalk Binto for him. I'm not even sure I've mentioned this guy before, which is a shame since he seems twenty times more interesting than Sancho, and the only thing going for him is he has an eyepatch. Anyway, Sancho confides that Jack might be more than just Transcended. Perhaps he's half alive, half something else? I dunno, and neither does anyone else, it's all just idle speculation for why the book is taking so long.

Anyway, Away into the night! Using the advanced detection technique called "being the main character" Sancho finds Jacks hideout. Just like that. He's wandering down a street and then just happens to be all like "whats in that room over there? Couldn't be the hideout of the very serial killer I'm looking for could it?" Holy deus Ex Machina Batman!

Anyhoo, there are CLUES in the room. Newspaper clippings of stuff that people apparently like to collect and leave laying about the place when they're working on a secret masterplan. Also a diary, with more important exposition to be decoded. June 13th: Aunty Maggies Birthday. June 16th: Pay rent. September 1st: Gut a prostitute and make skipping rope from her bowels.

Or something. There's also a picture of a volcano. It's at this point that I realize what's going on. It's XENU!! It all make sense now. The body thetans made me do it.

Moving on. After whatever period of investigation and furious wanking sancho heads of to the British Museum, presumably to look for a copy of the script. But Binto tags along. Because as far as I can tell she's totally up for it at this stage. And why wouldn't she be? After all she's a free willed sophisticated young lady as the plot hammer does so love to remind us. And it's not like the very concept of a female orgasm was an urban legend at this time or anything. Sancho's hindbrain is back in control however, so he takes her off to the museum and tries to impress her. Forgeting that at this stage he could pretty much fuck her whenver he likes. Men, eh? So they wander around the museum for a bit taking in thinly veiled references to how immortal these space vampire types are and bump into a certain Mr Stoker who's writing a book about oh god I just choked to death on my own vomit and incredulity. Do excuse me while I clear up.

Anyway, we get some more delightful dialogue to the effect of "I totally want to fuck you" followed by "I'm actually kind of cool with that" but thankfully they get interupted again. So Binto gets passed off to some minion for the grand tour whilst sancho heads down to the vaults for some plot. Because obviously he's been secretly funding the Museum in order to give him somewhere to keep his scrolls from the library of Alexandria. AS YOU DO.

So yeah, upshot is Tantalus in Tartarus made Krakatoa blow up and that woke up some super special dodgy types of which Jack is the first only it's taken him 5 years to work that out. And yes, that is exactly as ridiculous as it sounds, but that's what we've got to deal with. So that's why Jack has powered up so quick. Clerics Of Tantalus get an XP bonus when fighting their racial enemy, the common street whore. So... yeah? They need a special tablet to decode Jacks diary but it's been "mysteriously" stolen. But it's okay coz theres a backup scroll. Which has fallen to bits. So now someone has to reasemble it. Enter Bitchy, stage whatever. Now, I can't help but feel that they've missed a trick here, as the plot skips straight ahead to the scroll being reassembled. So narratively was there much point in having it destroyed in the first place. The consider the established fact that Bitchy EATS AND REGURGITATES BOOKS. So they could have used that to resolve the situation. Instead of a pritt stick and pair of tweezers. Which is what they did use. So much for drama. I should probably mention that Sancho jr is around at this point as well. And he's all freaked out that he's mentioned in the diary. Of course this could just be subtle misdirection, but if he isn't actually Jack in disguise then he's probably involved in the far more grisly murders that Bitchy is supposed to be investigating when she's not busy being naked.

Nevertheless, the journal has been translated and the second coming of Happy Jack has been predicted, coinciding with "waves" from Krakatoa or some such bullshit. Sancho Jr has been looking at the monster manual though, and reckons that Jack is probably to high level to be dealt with. He suggests that one of them may have to "transcend" in order to take him on. Now, so far the only thing we know about transcending is that it involves killing hookers. So I doubt that this suggestion will go down very well. But sadly that's where our latest chapter closes.

Now, I know I've said it before, but there really is a plot hidden away under all this vomit inducing dialogue. Indeed, there's more than a shade of Hellboy about the way the plot is developing, what with some ancient mythological nasty influencing people to do nasty murders and such. I could even deal with the whole Krakatoa thing had it not been for the whole "BRAM STOKER MET SANCHO!!! SANCHO IS DRACULA AND VAN HELSING!!! AT THE SAME TIME!!! SIGNIFICANCE!!!" bit that preceded it. And I'm still not entirely sure about the whole Sancho Jr situation. Is he Main plot dodgy or side plot dodgy? Thats cool. But then we have the problem of other stuff not getting as much explanation as we might like as so much time is spent with Binto and Sancho eyeing each other with looks of raw appetite. PLEASE JUST STOP. Fuck if it makes you feel better, but just stop with the leaden potboiler romance descriptive text and GET ON WITH THE FUCKING PLOT. Seriously, you have no idea how hard it is to make it through these long drawn out passages of verbal masturbation for the middle aged and desperate. If this is what romance is like maybe I should be grateful that I'll die alone atop a pile of Tenga products. At least they can just lite the lot on fire and give me a wanking warriors funeral.

Still, tune in next week when you will hear Sancho say "No, I'm not gutting whores until I stand knee deep in chopped offal. That is a silly idea".

It's Coming Down: Part 5 - Fuck The Queen

When last we left our tale I really can't remember. Something about wanking.

Oh yeah, the maid told Binto there'd been a murder. I personally like to picture her saying this in a ridiculous scottish accent. This is more to do with my own association between the phrase "there's been a murder" and Taggart than anything else, but frankly I feel it adds something to the proceedings. All cases of sudden death should be reported in this fashion.

Anyway, being a reasonable balanced individual Binto automatically assumes that the victims (two for the price of one) must obviously be a couple of minor characters she met a few chapters back when she was playing nurse. So she goes to look for them. As you do. In DISGUISE. Obviously. Whilst the book only specifies that she is dressed in whatever passes for rustic peasant garb in these parts I like to add a large fake moustache to the ensemble. I mean it IS a disguise after all. Needless to say Sancho becomes vexxed and follows after using the power of MYSTERY.

I guess the point of all this is to set the scene for the whole "people are starting to wig out over all the murder and such like" thing. The city is reaching breaking point, and Batman won't be born for another couple of hundred years or something. Oh noes. So anyway, Binto goes to the pub. Because that's where you go looking for hookers. And bumps into a some other bit part who assures her that the other two are in fact alive and well. And introduces her friend. No it's not Pat O'Cake. It's Mary Kelly.

Yeah, that set even my brain off. For those not particularly versed in Ripperology or Wikipedia, lets just say this girls sell by date is rapidly approaching. And pay attention here, plot fans. for it is remarked that little miss impending butchery and Binto share an UNCANNY RESEMBLENCE. I'm sure this will not be relevent at any point later however.

Moving on, Binto nearly gets molested when some latvian sailor becomes overly enflamed by the mere sight of a lock of hair poking out of her peasant hat. I guess he was a muslim or something. Needless to say Sancho makes his mysterious appearance and saves the day using the power of raw mystery.

So, the Sancho decides to accompany Binto on her search for soon to be deceased prostitutes, because hey, what else are you gonna do on a sunday? So they head off to where there's a mob happening and actually find her straight away. Though to be specefic she finds them. I did say Binto should have included a moustache in her disguise kit. So then having illustrated that her friends are in fact alive and well (at least the one that according to wikipedia is not currently auditioning for a part in "Dude Wheres My Entrails" in the morgue) Binto is packed off home, for Sancho has "An Appoinment".

And yeah, The Queen shows up and adds precisely nothing to the plot. Seriously she's just sort of there and all like "I'm totaly Queen Victoria you guys!!" and the she fucks off again. Whilst it may be nice to reiterate the plot for the new viewers, THIS IS A BOOK. We know all this shit, so either move the plot forward or shut up. And don't even think this is about building character, because it's only Sancho gets to meet her, and Sancho has no character. His sole defining characteristics are he is both handsome and mysterious. Thats your lot.

Oh, and somewhere in all that Sancho Jr paid a visit to Sanchos secret base. I mention this now for it is about to become IMPORTANT.

Once more Binto is gossiping with that one maid who were supposed to like because she's nice or whatever, this time about Bitchy and how weird and Bitchy she is. The upshot of all this is Binto venturing into Bitchys room, only to find it filled with hundreds of snakes. No, I'm not joking. Bitchy sleeps on a bed of live snakes, like she's the goddamn Ark Of The Covenant or something. Oh, and of course naked. Because she's naughty like that. It's getting quite sad that Bitchy is shaping up to be the most interesting character, but never mind eh? If we concentrated on her adventures we wouldn't have time for Sancho and Binto to feel uncomfortable around each other would we? Anyway, after this tawdry little buisness Binto heads of downstairs only to find that in an act of remarkable kindness not at all designed to get into her pants, Sancho's given that slag from earlier a job as a maid. Kindess of his heart? Or just so he doesn't have to do it himself tonight?

Speaking of his myseriousness, he's currently... opening the mail. Well the secretary did. Apart from the one with top secret masonic space vampire stamp on it anyway. Thus marking it as super secret special stationary for space vampires. And SHOCK, HORROR, ETC!!! It's actually from Jack The Ripper. So Sancho's all like "Noes, he hath trancsended!!" and not wondering at all where he got the goddamn stamp from. I mean, once you kill that final whore on a street corner does a presentation stationary set shoot out of her ruptured bowels? And although Sancho himself is not yet aware of that earlier visit we can be fairly confident that it's actaully Sancho Jr. Particularly with the way he keeps refferring to Binto on his his every apperance and also in the letter. sadly it'll be awhile before Sancho catches up with the plot, so what can he do in the meantime.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and desperate men get a haircut. And no, I don't know why. You tell me. So Binto blunders in for whatever reason, and he's all like "cut my hair!!" and she's all like "....kay", So she's right about to give him the mother of all bowl cuts when she gets a dramatic flashback and blacks the fuck out. End of chapter.

I suppose it's to much to hope that she falls on the scissors and dies in an ignominious fashion? Don't even need to feel sorry for Sancho. I mean, he's right there, and a human body takes a while to cool, right?

I'm to tired to think of a witty title for this. Deal with it.

I've just finished watching Iron King. This is the part where I'm supposed to tell you about the whole experience. My thoughts and impressions. This is, it has to be said, not always as easy as one might think. And this is one of those times. I suppose the best place to start will be with the fundemental dichotomy at the heart of the show, which is a fairly straightforward question.

Simply, how can a show be so utterly generic yet startlingly original AT THE SAME TIME?

So, basics. We have a 70's Tokusatsu show, transforming hero, giant monsters, sinister organisations with hordes of disposable minions, the full works. The titular giant hero is liveried in a familiar red and silver style.

Which when you compare it do the Ultraman who debuted just prior to this series airing....

 

Well, you can see what I mean. However this is where things get weird. Because whilst we have what amounts to tokustasu by numbers, right down to the thinly veiled Ultraman clone, we also find a show with many unique merits of it's own. For a start there's the question of the lead hero. Shizuka Gentaro is everything a leading man should be, handsome, deadly, dressed as a cowboy. However he's not Iron King. It's the comedy relief sidekick Kirishima Goro who actually does the transforming bit. This is actually really effective. For all I love Ultraman it does have to be said that Hayata doesn't really get much to do except transform at the appropriate juncture. But here we have a hero who's running around doing hero stuff and fighting giant monsters on his own. This leads into the second point: for most of the series Iron King DOESN'T defeat the monsters. It's only through the combined efforts of both Gentaro and Iron King together that victory is achieved. This removes the whole deus ex machina part of the transforming hero genre in one fell swoop. Indeed, for the first part of the series Iron King himself is actually a bit useless, having no beams or special moves. There's a lot of him desperately grappling with this weeks threat whilst Gentaro gets his shit together enough to put a stop to things.

Now, it's going to be hard to continue to address the series at all without mentioning the rather startling tonal break two thirds of the way in. Simply, this is when the excutives in charge decided things needed to move in a more overtly Ultraman direction. So instead of political insurgents the bad guys became aliens, Iron King started to exhibit strange new powers and Gentaro started to share in the comedy. Prior to this things are actually much darker. Gentaro in particular is a very serious figure, not above exploiting people to fulfill his mission. He has that whole big picture thing going on that makes some people regard him as quite callous. Then ratings drop and suddenly him and Goro start slacking off and mercilessly tormenting their new female lead. It's quite bizarre.

I want to mention the fight scenes as well. It's not all giant robot wrestling, there's always a horde of lackeys for Gentaro to slice through as well. So far so standard. But theres a real sense of effort here as well, that their always trying to make each episodes fights DIFFERENT somehow. Trying new things, new locations and the like. It's really good, and does keep things interesting.

The bad guys themselves take the form of 3 distinct factions, each neutralised over the course of about 10 episodes or so. First up is the Shiranui Clan and their Giant Robots, then the Phantom Militia with their Giant Robot Monsters, before finally the Titanians show up, who ARE Giant Monsters. Having these story arcs works quite well, as things don't get too stretched out, and there is some sense of moving forwards. Even the minions get some story to themselves, with a few episodes featuring family members trying to find them or whatever. Whilst this never ends particularly well for any involved it's fantastic to actually see this plot thread used.

So what we have is a series that is firmly entrenched in the tropes of it's genre, but is exploring those tropes in it's own way and producing something quite unique within those boundaries. It has it's limitations and weakness', but then so do all series. If there's a show that really deserves a dark and gritty reboot it's got to be Iron King. Get the guys who worked on GARO and Ultraseven X and put together a mini series based on this. You could ramp up all the elements that they slowly stripped out of the series towards the end and make something quite adult and sophisticated. 

An oddity no doubt, but certainly an entertaining one. The simple fact that there exists an english subtitlted release of this show is reason enough to buy it. Treats like this are few and far between.

It's Coming Down: Part 4 - The Sound Of One Hand Fapping

Where oh where to begin? See, I'm suffering a little here. Because I can't get on with this section until I've addressed on particular issue, which is weighing on my mind a little.

To whit: This is the part where our dark and mysterious hero WANKS OFF LIKE A MADMAN.

That's right. You heard. To say I was not expecting such a solitary interlude is somewhat of understatement. But still, we should at least make some attempt to deal with the plot in some kind of coherent order. For STUFF is afoot.

So, when last we left off Sancho Mysterioso was sadly not a Mexican Wrestler engaged in combat with space robots. Though that would be awesome. No, he was of hunting in his dark and mysterious fashion. Lest we forget we're looking for Jack The Ripper here, and finally the book makes this explicit. Thanks for the spoiler warning, back cover. Anyway, long story short he doesn't find him. Otherwise the book would be over and we could all go home. But he does bump into that other space vampire guy who cropped up earlier. And we start getting some plot. You see these guys are "Shadow Guards" which frankly sounds like a brand of gothic condoms, but are apparently actually.... something else? Whilst they have as yet not been explicitly referred to as vampires they certainly seem to fill the role, what with the dark mysterious and strangely seductive but all violent and crazy underneath bit Sancho has going on at the moment. So anyway they work for the primordials from the inner realm (no, I'm not reading the monster manual instead, this is the plot. shut up and pay attention), and there job is to kill the bad people before they transcend, whatever that means. Get superpowers by killing a bunch of hookers apparently. At this point they can then go beat up these primordial guys or something. Kind of makes you wonder why these shadow guys bother with the dirty work, but maybe that will be revealed in due course.

So, anyway. PLOT. Aside from having a bit of dark mysterious past (shock horror) it seems that our boy, in his role as wannabe Sancho Jr has ballsed it up and now Happy Jack has levelled up a bit to much and will no doubt be multiclassing into Big Bad just as soon as he meets the prerquisits. On that note, how much XP is ahooker worth anyway? This then is why Sancho has been called in. Whilst they're confronting each other in a dramatic fashion Jack slices up a couple more whores, and everyone gets a bit cross. Of course, Sancho Jr is not coming across as very sympathetic here, as if he'd just done his damn job properly in the first place we wouldn't have to go through this at all. Instead he compounds his mistake by hindering big Sancho, who could probably have finished this off in a chapter or so since he is awesome by decree.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch. Or more specifically casa de Sancho....

Binto goes to bed. Doesn't sound very exciting does it? Well, it isn't, but then she's just going to bed. It's not the most dramatic process in the world. We do get a nice bit of business between Bitchy One and Binto. Coz Bitchy one doesn't have a nightgown. Y'know, because she's so sensual and shit. So she's stealing on of Bintos. Well, until she gets called away to witness the dramatic posturing outlined above. Also she eats some of Binto's book. I'm not sure if I menationed it before, but apparently she does this. Which is kind of funny when she's burping up bits of medical literature, but that doesn't last long so let's move on.

So anyway after a frustrating nights not catching Jack The Ripper Sancho returns home. Only he's all crazy and stuff since he didn't get to kill anybody. So bristling with pseudovampiric bestail whatnots what does he go and do?

No, not that. Not quite yet.

First he must go see his one true love interest. So yeah, he goes to see Binto whilst she's asleep. But Sancho is a man. With a mans needs. So whilst that pussy from Twilight just stands there being creepy, Sancho goes for a more hands on experience.

No not that. Not quite yet. In his barely controlled ragelust he cops a quick feel whilst she's asleep. She wakes up, he fucks off and she's left to conclude it was all a dream. A SEXY dream. Others might conclude it was sexual assault, but potato potato. She's asking for it anyway.

And THEN he "pleasured himself to a stunning release in the shadowed privacy of his chamber, closing his eyes against the reality of his hand and surrendering himself to the fantast of her". If I have to suffer through this than you can bloody well join me. Still, it's a very poetic way of saying hairy handed monkey grunting session. Not sure about the stunning release part. Did he hit his head on the bedpost when he finished?

All joking aside, I really should applaud the writer for this little titbit. After all, in the natural course of things it's not exactly unusual for a man to fancy a girl and frantically bang one out with her assets firmly fixed in his minds eye. Let's face it he doesn't even need to really fancy her at all. You know what men are like. But how often do we see such behaviour portrayed in romantic fiction? Viva realism, and the bizarre hilarious faces it pulls at the point of no return. Just better hope it's mum doesn't walk in halfway through.

Anyway, I was talking about something else wasn't I? What was it?

THE BOOK! The PLOT! I remember now.

So, what happens after the wanking? Oh yeah, the primordials who live in the fireplace tell Sancho of for not resolving the plot in the last chapter and hint that bitches ain't nothin to a brother and he should be keeping it real. Or something like that. So yeah, since he's got a bit of respite before he needs to go for another one, Sancho forms a plan to deal with his woman problem. Get her married off.

Now, I'm sure you can see one or two flaws in this master stroke, but it's worth compounding the ineptitude that in the ensuing discussions his thoughts do not dwell kindly on a certain doctor aquaintence of Bintos. You know, the one who clearly fancies her. And Sancho is now jealous of for some reason? Needles to say this idea does not go down well, as Binto goes from dripping wet to "But I wanna be a DOCTOR!!" in short order. Clearly building the dramatic tension so we can go through another few hundred pages of them blatently wanting to fuck each other but not wanting to admit it.

And there we must leave off our narrative for the time being, I'm afraid to say. Mainly because that's as far as I've read so far. There will be more, but 3 chapter chunks seem to work out quite well for the purposes of this whole writing buisness. I'm still getting a sense that under all the leaden plot hammer romance and gothic destiny there may be an interesting plot. It's just that I'm starting to realise it's the plot of GARO. We have an oraganisation of dark, mysterios powerful warriors who hunt monsters, a bad guy powering up his evil plot with murder batteries, a confused and reluctant love interest who will later on be central to the bad guys schemes. The hero clearly fancies her but acts cold since he doesn't want to admit the whole fancying bit.... It goes on . The primordial dude in the fireplace even has the whole three in one thing going on. I'm not saying there's any ripping off going on here, indeed I highly doubt it. But there are certain interesting parallels going on. And if you're setting yourself up to be compared to GARo you had better be REALLY fucking good.

Still, let's see what happens next shall we?

So let's leave it at that for now.