Zelda Playthrough -or- When I Realized that I'm an Old Man in a Young Man's Body

This is a post that I began months ago in regards to me playing a video game. If you don't get any references, find the game and play it because it's amazing. Otherwise, you're on your own. Interspersed are some post night comments:

I decided, a minute ago, that I'm going to play the Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time straight through.

It's 9:36pm and about half an hour ago I got the spiritual stone of the forest. Then stopped because I am a normal human being. I feel like a regular play through is one spiritual stone per sit down, then  between one and three medallions per sit for the rest of the game. Not extraordinarily pertinent, but I'm letting you know. Then, succumbing to the minimal (i.e. none) pressure of some of my friends, decided to screw everything and play it until I finish. I shall chronicle that here.

So, we begin the journey at 9:38.

Leaving Kokiri forest at 9:39, stopped by Saria

I forgot I wasn't wearing my glasses, so I put them on for the sighted experience.
Also, I forgot to mention, Link's name is Bonobo in this play through... I just thought you should know.

940: Got ocarina, it kind of looks like a kidney bean. I was really tired when I was writing this, but this remains one of the truest observations that I have ever made.

941: this fucking owl. I didn't really have anything to add, so I looked him up. I literally just found out he has a name. It's Kaepora Gaebora. Who knew? Follow up, why does he need a name beyond "That Annoying Owl"?


942 rolling across hyrule field. Self explanitory.

943 missed bridge by inches. Even though this was months ago, I remember so vividly rolling and rolling across Hyrule Field only to be greeted with a drawbridge receding. I rolled myself into the moat on principle. This was, objectively, the most upset I've ever been. I was left to wallow in pity as I placed the controller on my bed and contemplated every life decision I had ever made as I awaited day and the lowering of the bridge.

946 owl. One word sums it all up. I don't know that I've ever actually read what he has to say. I should fix this, but I'll probably "forget".

949 passed most oblivious guards in the world now i have to wait for this damn egg to hatch. This was another moment when the controller was placed on my bed as I was left to linger in  despair. What am I doing? Why am I doing it? Who am I? Am I an active participant in my existence? There's a lot of waiting in this game is what I'm saying.

951 egg. I guess it hatched?

954 met zelda. It must have.

During that long bit of exposition with Zelda, I passed out on my bed. I just laid back hitting "A" and ignoring whatever she was saying about Ganondorf being evil and whatever and just passed straight out. I've never been actively doing something and fallen asleep before; I don't think. I woke up scared, alone, wondering where I was, Zelda staring at me expectantly. It was extremely disconcerting.

I failed pretty hard.

Sorry for the abbreviated post, I feel like this is lame even by my standards, but I wrote something and that is... something?

Follow me on Twitter if you please, @HeyitsSOB

I Dare to Dream

I would like to share a sincere dream of mine with you, internet.

I know that, overall, this is kind of a throwaway blog to keep me writing (mostly because no one reads it), and there is never really anything of substance. I try to make my posts meaningful (at least a little bit), but I'm just not a very serious person, and I know that that comes through in my posts.


Anywany, I want to get real with you right now.


Frodo...
Think about it.

I have a dream, and I worry that any insistance on my part that it is, in fact, a sincere dream of mine, rather unfortunately, calls my sincerity into question.

I swear to you, internet, that this is a for realsies aspiration of mine.

I want to be the Hobo King.


This could be me!

And now for a brief history lesson for those of you who refuse to click here (where they not only define hobos in hobo terms, but go into fairly good detail about hobo symbology [which is totally a thing]).

Definitely want none of this... Amiright?

In 1900, three men decided to give the town of Britt, Iowa something special, something to show that this wasn't just a town in the middle of what I'm assuming is nowhere. They wanted to bestow upon the town something that would allow it compete with big cities like Des Moines and ... I couldn't think of another city in Iowa because there aren't any.


I defy you to assert that any of those cities is legitimately familiar to you.

So, these three men, Thomas A. Way, T.A. Potter, and W.E. Bradford, enamoured with initials, were tasked with bringing renown to the town of Britt. After some consideration, they decided to bring the Hobo Convention to their fair city. They got in touch with Onion Cotton (great name) and Grand Head Pipe Charles F. Noe (great title) and informed them of the intention to have the Hobo convention in Britt. The Grand Head Pipe (which may or may not be a Hobo title) decided to scope out the grounds with the stipulation that, in "true hobo fashion*," his carfare and other expenses would be taken care of. He came, he saw, and the rest, as they say, is history.

But with hobos... hobstory.

This brings me to the crux of my post. My bid to be next year's Hobo King.**

HOBO-CROWN GOES HERE!

Now, the convention website was kind of foggy on what the actual duties of the Hobo King are, but I can only assume they involve complete, unrestricted control over the lives of every single hobo in existence.

I could tell them where to go, which odd jobs to pick up, which rails to ride, what to pack in their bindles, everything.

To contain: 1 can of beans, 1 top hat with the top punched out, and your hopes and dreams.

 

 I will be a benevolent ruler of hobos.

Or, if, as is more likely, the title is merely ceremonial and I am just the figurehead of the hobos, I shall be the greatest figurehead in all the land. The Queen of England will look upon me with tears in her eyes as I put her nation representing to shame.

Pictured: Bush league nation representing

Shame.

What follows is an open letter containing my formal bid for Hobo Kingship.

______________________________________________________________________________

To: whomever decides who gets to be the Hobo King.

Dear Hobo King Congress,

My name is Sean O'Brien and I would like to formally enter my name into the running for the 2014 Hobo King. I know, as a newcomer in this race, I have my work cut out for me, trying to follow greats like: Uncle Freddie, Minnesota Jim, Stretch, and Bo Grump. I believe, though, that I have the gumption, the hobo spirit, to lead the hobo nation with style and aplomb. I can be the leader you need. I shall rule the hobo land with a hobo fist (one that deftly clenches tenderness and compassion for my subjects).

Throughout my nearly quarter century on this Earth, I have learned many things. Chief among them is that I want to be the Hobo King so badly that sometimes when I think about it I get legitimately worried that I might pass out. I'm already great at adding hobo to words, which, I'm sure, is, like, half of the job anyway.

I hope that you will grant me the hobo-consideration that I believe I hobo-deserve.

Sincerely yours,
Sean O'Brien (Future Hobo King)

______________________________________________________________________________

Readers, I implore you. If you know anyone who can help make my dream a reality, please direct them to this blog and/or send them my letter. I thank you for your help in achieving my dreams.

Hey, if you want to know about other things I like, follow me on twitter: @heyitssob



*which seems to go against how they define hobos. They say they're people who always work to pay their way, but GHP here just seems to be a cheapo.
**I was going to petition to be crowned this year, but the convention was August 8-11, so next year it must be. When I turn a quarter century old, I shall be the king of the hobos.

The Worst Superheroes Ever?

I have a confession to make.

I am a nerd.

I know what you're thinking, "This guy?! A nerd?!" Anyone reading this wearing a monocle just heard a splash as their eyepiece fell into their champagne. Anyone reading this not wearing a monocle (i.e. everyone I know personally) probably just fell asleep a little during the second sentence because duh.

I began with a small aside to give context to the rest of this post. Obviously not much context, but enough that as a reader, you can think to yourself either, "I am not a nerd, so I'll go watch something on hulu+ instead" or "Tally-ho! I shall continue on what is sure to be an epic quest!"

To business!

I always thought of the Fantastic Four as the leftover night of superhero comics, the extras from every other Lee/Kirby collaboration, everything that Marvel hadn't "eaten up" yet. Punny?

They have the basic structure down, they're just regular people with super powers. They fight and pal around; they have break-ups and make-ups (outs).

These two pretty much cornered the market on make-outs.

A close second.

But, today, I defy you to name one super hero who doesn't. Comics in general have made a move from fanciful tales of unrelatable heroes with black and white morals to relatable antiheroes bathed in grey areas. Long gone are the days when Captain America was busting Nazi skulls just because they were evil threats to the "American Way."

Today, every hero has to have baggage. Even Cap' (tain America, for the uninitiated) had to be depressed up; it was the death of Bucky, his sideckick, that sent him over into real-feelingsville (even though, as it turned out, Bucky's was just a comic book death.) Captain America had to carry around the guilt and whatever! Very sad.

"BUUUUUUUCKYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!"
is a terrible name.

So, as with all modern heroes, the Fantastic Four have baggage. They got their powers by accident and they aren't sure they even want them, they don't always get along, blah, blah, blah.

But wait! I said they had powers! That must be awesome! Right?

Wrong.

Reed Richards (Mr. Fantastic) can stretch really far. That's okay I guess, except that people in real life can do that too. So that goes on a list with things like super accounting and super laundry-folding.

For Justice!*

Now, I realize that most superpowers are basically just amped up versions of actions that people can perform, but I feel like stretching is just so... boring.

He can touch his toes without bending over... so, that's cool... I guess.

Besides boredom, it's been done a million times before (or at least twice.) It's important to note the dates on the two guys in the links, though. The Elongated Man debuted the year before Fantastic Four. Plastic Man? TWENTY YEARS! So, not only is stretching a boring power, it's been used to death!

So, who's next?

Susan Storm (The Invisible Girl) can turn invisible which is useless, unless your foe is also deaf, and project force-fields like Bella in Twilight (except Sue's actually stop physical attacks and not just mental ones.) BOOM! Twilight reference! I went there!

Here is a picture of some guys footballing.
This is to put points back onto my man-card.

Then, there's Johnny Storm (The Human Torch) who besides having a name that is meant for adult cinema, can set himself on fire (by saying, "Flame on" ... um). I'd like that to sink in for a moment. He lights himself on fire. Did you catch that? It's like when your uncle decides it'd be a good idea to shoot off some fireworks in his backyard on the 4th of July.

If your fireworks make it into the air, you're doing it wrong.

Then, there was one. My personal favorite, Ben Grimm (the Thing).

He is super strong and made of rocks. I'll give them this one. He's basically the Hulk with maybe the worst catchphrase in history, "It's clobberin' time!" While maybe cutting edge in '61, in any year after that, it may be one of the least fear-inducing catch-phrases ever.

Besides Tyroc's "Light's, Camera, Blacktion!"**

The Thing is terrifying and ashamed of how he looks, but who cares when "It's clobberin' time!" is what comes out of his mouth right before he punches you. He'd evoke more fear by throwing a basket full of kittens at the criminal.

NOOOOOO!!!

The Thing is literally the only hero in this team that can get any butts kicked, and he has to ruin it with that bit of verbal diarrhea (which is a difficult word to spell, it's like vacuum).

But enough about the heroes, right? The villians have to be fairly awesome to make up for all of that... though, they could be terrible because the team itself couldn't save its way out of a paper bag.

Their arch-nemesis has some great powers. He can... do a lot of awesome stuff. I don't want to write it all here because I'm lazy. If you really want to know, look at that link. Do some homework... Jeez.

But his powers aren't the problem. It's his name... Dr. Doom.

Dr. Doom? Really? Why not call him Terrible McEvildoer and take care of any residual confusion as to whether he's a good guy or bad guy. Dr. Doom is probably just his bad-guy name, like Venom or Mr. Freeze. Right? Nope. His real name is Victor von Doom. He is a genius and acutally has a PhD. His name is actually Dr. Doom. He is also the leader of Latveria.

Looks home-y.

A man with the name Victor von Doom not only got into college, but became the head of a nation. Think about that for a moment. He not only managed to get into college with the last name Doom, but was able to attain and mantain leadership over an entire nation. I have a hard time believing that the manager at McDonalds would hire someone with the last name Doom let alone that people would let that guy stay in office.

You're extremely well qualified... But it's your last name. It's a bit... murder-y.

And, there you have it, what I've always thought about the Fantastic 4. Out on the internet for probably tens of people to read. Thank you, internet.

*As I was searching for pictures of laundry folding, I could only find pictures of women doing the folding. So, I guess great job Google for making folding the laundry sexist. Also, I would like to point out that justice is capitalized because in my mind I thought about superheroes personifying justice. In my mind, that woman folding laundry is folding for Justice the personification, not the abstraction... God, I'm a nerd.

**I realize I went all blacksploitation-y there for a second. But that is Tyroc, who in a quote by Jim Shooter, who tried to introduce a black superhero, "...I always wanted to have a character who was African-American, and years later, when they did that, they did it in the worst way possible....instead of just incidentally having a character who happens to be black...they made a big fuss about it. He's a racial separatist....I just found it pathetic and appalling." So... he was offensive before I got to him.