Wi-Philes

Now, God knows I loves me some RPG's. I can play for hours and hours, leveling up characters, fighting monsters that could only have leapt from the imagination of someone tripping on acid, or, you know, from a Japanese person. Regardless of the laziness of long-winded FMV sequences and impossibly outdated random battles, I'm a sucker for 60-hour jaunts into RPG territory.

I've recently been playing Final Fantasy XII and noticed something that has been bugging me for the longest time - something that has continued to bother me after playing through Final Fantasy after Dragon Quest after Kingdom Hearts.

There sure has been a shitload of white people.

Whiny, dramatic, gender-confused white people. Now, many of my Asian friends don't consider themselves "white", but I do, mostly because I'm ignorant and because the only difference between most Asian girls and most white girls is a pair of sunglasses.

Now, I don't have anything against white people. Without white people we wouldn't have golf programs on Saturday, hipster bullcrap like Juno or Hollister t-shirts. In fact, I think Cid Highwind is just the bees' knees with sugar on top. But after a while, I tire of seeing nothing but wide-eyed pretty white-skinned young people save the world. No, I don't give a shit if sometimes they have purple hair or bunny ears. I mean there's only so many prissy androgynous white boys I can take before I wish a gang of black breakdancers would show up and show these crackers what's up.

BUT BUT.. What about BARRETT!?, you may be asking. I have to say that I love Barrett. His painfully negro jive-speak made for a memorable FFVII experience. It's plain to see that game writers working for Squaresoft did all of their research on the "black experience" by spending a weekend watching random episodes of the A-Team and the epic motivational video Be Somebody... or Be Somebody's Fool!. For the record, I am NOT hating on Barrett - because anybody who has a machine gun for an arm deserves your immediate respect, and in Tifa's case, your virginity.

What I am saying is that RPG's have begun to bore me. In my younger years I may have thought it was totally awesome for a group of 15-year-old Asians to band together in saving the universe from another magical Asian. But after playing numerous role playing adventures, I'm wondering: Where all the brown people at? Do developers not like people with skin pigment who aren't aliens? Do game companies think that people of color are too busy sneaking across the Mexican border to notice they aren't being represented? You'd think there would be SOMEONE south of the equator in any Final Fantasy game who may have made it northward for perhaps a cameo of some sort?

Now I'm not expecting game developers to make an RPG out of What's Happening!! or for Edward James Olmos to show up in Xenosaga. But you'd think statistically SOMEONE on the planet would have the ability to use a sword AND have an afro?

I don't pretend to be an expert on RPG's or follow every title that comes out. I think I'd like to continue on this thought and start creating a roster of minority character RPG characters - so for all you console RPG'ers out there, send me your list and I'll get to seeing exactly what's going on here.

PS: By the way, gluing feathers onto Yuffie and making her a thief doesn't make her a minority in any way.

PPS: Black mages don't count either!

We all know it's coming.

It will start off with a few seemingly isolated incidents of localized disturbances; maybe the media will write it off as a stranger rash of murder-suicides or random acts of violence followed by the latest gossip on Britney Spears, and later, the weather. As the virus spreads, and people carry it to other parts of the world, our disbelief will continue until the threat bangs at our doorsteps - shambling, rotting and aiming to tear us to pieces. Yes, the army of the undead is just around the corner people - are you prepared?

If you're like me, and God help you if you are, you've gone through the zombie scenario in your head many a time. What would happen if my neighborhood was overrun with flesh-eating ghouls? Where would I go? Who would I take with me? If I had to, could I take down a zombie with only my car keys? Other living dead fanatics understand what I'm talking about, and more importantly, Max Brooks knows what I'm talking about.

The Zombie Survival Guide, published in 2003, asked the same questions I had asked myself. Furthermore, it handily answered them without as much as batting an eye. Well perhaps there was the tiniest bit of winking with a tongue planted in-cheek, but for the most part, the book delved into the world of the undead and made sure every aspect was covered in order for you and your family to survive an all-out zombie holocaust. It delivered historical details about the history of the virus that causes zombism while offering hypothetical (some might say time-tested) approaches to surviving on a planet covered with human-devouring, mindless, shambling monsters. Yes, Max Brooks seems to have seen Dawn of the Dead way more times than I have - and believe me, that's saying a lot. In fact, it's a little bit disconcerting.



The follow-up to the Survival Guide is World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War , which chronicles the planet's war with zombies from start to finish by weaving together stories from people who lived through it. Over 1 billion people have been infected, eaten or otherwise killed from a worldwide pandemic of the solanum virus, which not only has the capacity to kill its victim 100% of the time, but even after the victim's death, continues to allow the human body to function with the sole mechanical purpose of finding other humans and devouring them.
You know what I love about Max Brooks?: He does his homework. Sure, in a way, this is all a bunch of fan fiction; someone with way too much time on his hands who has dissected and reassembled the zombie universe of George Romero in his own image. But you have to give the man credit for doing his research and taking the time to construct stories, scenarios and observations that scientifically, politically and emotionally make sense.

Pick up the Survival Guide and see for yourself how the biological function of the virus itself is explained or which weaponry is best to take out the undead (I think a katana would be my weapon of choice). Inform yourself on stockpiling, how to apply yourself when on the run from a horde of killers or how to shelter yourself for a long-term threat. Although Brooks may be writing every word with a grin, there's no doubt that he's pored over other survival guides, weapon manuals and doomsday literature and used that knowledge to write his own guide (with a bit of a zombie twist). But pick up World War Z and expect something different.

Whereas the first book is more of a how-to guide on how not to end up as chunks of flesh inside a zombie stomach, the second is a tapestry of stories woven together to give a larger picture depicting the war between humanity and the reanimated dead. Imagine if you will destruction on a planetary scale where the fight isn't against terrorists, Nazis, guerillas or Decepticons. It's against an unrelenting mob of creatures who never have to eat, never have to resupply with food or weaponry and can withstand the harshest climates without leadership or emotion. Hell these fuckers don't even have to blink! They come at you and they will never stop coming at you, ever, either until their limbs simply rot away (don't expect that to happen anytime soon) – or you destroy every one of their brains.

In World War Z, the war has already happened. What is left of humanity is an interesting look into what might happen if we had to press the "reset" button on civilization and start all over. It starts off in China and later migrates into India and parts of Africa and, after a plodding winter, things really begin to get messy as panic reaches the West. Cue large-scale military failures with unprepared, disbelieving US citizens and you have a gore-flavored recipe for the extinction of our species.

Brooks travels to different parts of the world after the worst is behind us and interviews dozens of people from different backgrounds: soldiers, doctors, civilian survivors – they all tell their tales of hardship and tragedy, some who came through stronger than before, some completely broken by the war. Brooks takes us across the globe, mostly chronologically, by regaling stories that give us insight into the political, social and environmental fallout of humanity's reaction to a planetary plague. Listen to a soldier who was on the frontline at the Battle of Yonkers where the US military was woefully unprepared for winning a war that could not be fought with laser-guided missiles and modern warfare. Get on board an escaped Chinese submarine whose commander is torn between the survival of the families on board and treason against his country. Go deep beneath Paris into the filthy, stinking underground catacombs must be cleared in order to reclaim a final sense of security.

Each story is told with clarity and ambition (some much more interesting than others) and are fascinating looks into a universe of "what ifs". What if Pakistan and Iran engaged in nuclear warfare as the world around them burned? What if Paris Hilton, Puff Daddy and Anne Coulter were forced to band together to fight off an army of the undead? What if Cuba became a democratic powerhouse refugee base for Americans and Westerners coming over in tattered boats and rafts? What if "first world" nations filled with executive assistants, stock analysts, financial planners and IT specialists suddenly no longer needed white-collar workers as much as they needed crop workers, welders, carpenters and soldiers? Like I said before, some stories are more interesting than others, but it's an amazing psychological historical perspective into a true world war and the perseverance of man in the face of total annihilation.



The worst thing I can say about the book is that some stories are filler that either add nothing to the overall story or are flat-out boring. Also, some of the stories, while great, seem a little bit over-the-top or the person who is telling the story seems just a bit too much like a storyteller instead of a real person who might be relaying the tale. I'm sure one of the tough things about writing a book from so many 1st-person perspectives is that each storyteller needs their own authentic personality. As someone whose done more than a few interviews, I've realized that not everybody is as eloquent you'd like them to be and certainly not everyone is a storyteller. In the book, questions by the "interviewer" are placed sporadically between long drawn-out stories that sometimes sound more like a writer writing instead of a soldier speaking. Actions like pauses, chin rubbing and smiling are interjected to somehow try and give the storyteller some human authenticity but at times it seems forced and you just wish there were some more down-to-earth storytellers to listen to.

Regardless of this small complaint, zombie lovers can be assured there is much to take away from here and insane over-the-top zombie apocalypse planners can take even more away. Are you someone who enjoys reading about history from an autobiographical standpoint? Are you a person who enjoys thinking about possible geopolitical scenarios and the human psychology in a crisis? Do you eat brains? You'll probably love this book then. If you're not so much into listening to people drone on about zombie events that never happened – well don't bother me because I'm on the phone calling around to see how much a mountainside bomb shelters cost these days.

Needless to say, it's a great book and since it's in cinematic pre-production expect to hear much more about it in the future. Until then, sit back and have a relaxing read in your comfy recliner underneath your reading lamp powered by a an electric company regulated by a government who is woefully under trained and wholly unprepared for a zombie invasion. Don't say I didn't warn you.

As people pack theaters this week to see Bryan Singer's vision of Richard Donner's vision of Simon & Schuster's Superman, debates have risen in the nerd-based online community as to why the Man of Steel is or isn't awesome enough to warrant a new movie.

To those who say that Superman is indeed worthy of a recharge to his franchise, I say you are in for a real treat. The new film will delight and astound you with special effects Donner could only dream of and a love story that makes even the most heterosexual men wish they could slip on a pair of heels and a fun (but functional) work skirt and fly around the city with a grown man in skin-tight spandex.

To those who think that Superman is a boring character who didn't deserve a new film, I respectfully ask that you watch some Justice League episodes or better yet pop in a DVD of the Max Fleischer Superman cartoons and get back that "golly gee" feeling that apparently has died somewhere inside you. Still not convinced? Well I hope a boulder falls on you. Or a comet. A comet would work just fine. And the reason I think this is because there's really no way anybody could truly dislike Superman - or at least dislike him enough not to have an open mind to allow for a balls-to-the-wall superhero flick directed by the man who brought Wolverine to life so successfully to the silver screen.

People may wonder aloud, "What's so interesting about Superman? He's just a boy scout with unlimited powers!" Or they may exclaim, "Hey Superman's character never seems to change... he's not DYNAMIC ENOUGH!" These things are usually said by people who a) have no souls thus rendering them joyless wretches incapable of feeling superlove, b) Batman and/or Spawn fanatics or c) are Lex Luthor.

Well I'll tell you why Superman is so cool. The kids these days might be "oohing" and "aahing" over their fancy cell phones and ipods and fandangled birth control, but none of these will ever use heat vision to save your plane from crashing. Never. And I'll tell you what else Superman will do for you: He will never lie to you like your cheating husband did, the bastard. He will always save your life no matter who you are. Even if you're Uwe Boll. He will never stop fighting for Truth, Justice and the American (or subsidiary thereof) Way, even if he has to die to make sure you and your snot-nosed brats live another day.

And don't expect any brooding about it either, unlike some other darker, more tortured superheroes. No, you can interrupt dinner, drop your firstborn on his head, wear white after Labor Day – none of this matters; he's going to love you just the same and he's going to pull you out of the wreckage and use his x-ray vision to make sure your internal organs are intact. And after he's done saving you, he's going to wave and smile and you're going to feel better in knowing there is someone up there looking out for you. And maybe – just maybe - you'll want to live up to the same standard of goodness after you get home.

So, while we as viewers may become enraptured with Batman or Wolverine and the internal strife they go through in changing and becoming the heroes they are, I think Superman remains a stalwart for justice and ethics and unconditional affection in which we are enamored not necessarily by the changes Superman undergoes himself, but by the way he inspires people be more than who they are. And obviously you need it because God knows you're sitting here online reading this when you could be out making sure Grandma hasn't poked a fork in the electric socket.

So now that we've proven that anti-Superman fans want the terrorists to win, you're probably wondering what happened with that movie in this so-called movie review.

Well, I loved it.

In fact, I loved it so much I'm telling you that I am contemplating putting my size 36 butt into a size 28 spandex suit with a big "S" on it for Halloween. Hell I might just wear the suit all the time; take it to work, to a baseball game, to church (assuming I went to church), Indian restaurants – you know, anywhere people might need me to step in and stop bullets or thwart Nazis. This is because I felt like a kid again - a crazy idealistic kid who really would wear a tiny spandex suit all day everyday if given the chance and isn't at all concerned with the concepts of "public decency" or "Miranda Rights" or the fact that jumping off a building will kill you.

If you remember the tagline for 1978's Richard-Donner-directed Superman: The Movie, the marketers thought it would be cute to say "You'll Believe A Man Can Fly". And for the most part I think movie patrons back then left the theater thinking a man could. Today, we are expecting no less than perfection in our special effects. 15 years ago, we didn't really believe we could see realistic dinosaurs eat lawyers but after Jurassic Park, many of us became believers. Since then, we've seen Spider-Men swing, Jedis Jed, Neos tame the Matrix and Titanics sink – all with varying degrees of success.

With that in mind, I should say that the CGI in this film is pretty immaculate. And for a price tag of around $260 million, you better hope it rocks your face off. When Supes flies around the city or even up into space, you don't think "There goes CGI Superman blurring his way around the city!" the way CGI Yoda blurred around the screen fighting Sith Lords. Just check out the scene with a crashing airliner to grasp the full effect of what it means to do effects the right way. What I loved even more about it is that it's done not only with precision but with an artistic flair that hearkens back to the Fleischer cartoons from the 1940's or the covers of Action Comics. It's a hero shot through an iconic lens and there isn't anywhere near the campiness of the latter Batman films or the Superman films for that matter.



But special effects do not an iconic movie make. Nope, you need to infuse humanity into it if you want for people to relate and emotionally invest in something. A great example of this might be The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring in which special effects were used not as a grandstanding "Hey-Look-At-My-Big-Penis!" triumph of technology but as means to a satisfying end; a compliment to the story. A bad example of this would be say Star Wars: Episode 1 where Lucas tried to turn entirely CGI characters like Natalie Portman into believable, likable computerized creatures. Add in gorgeous lighting, seamless computer effects and amazing set pieces and you have one giant yummy Brandon Routh flavored jumbalaya of quality. So now what's all this hubbub about Jesus?

Hey don't give me that look, I'm just talkin' about Jesus. Let's make some comparisons here: Both came down from the heavens to help humanity, both have amazing superpowers and both will save your ass regardless of whether you bite your toenails or not. The allusion to the Christ figure is really undeniable here, and throughout the life of the character there have always been those who considered Kal-El to be a nod as the Guardian or Protector of Earth's inhabitants. There are even a few scenes where Superman's curiosity gets the best of him and he uses his x-ray vision to take a peek inside Lois' house, which some viewers might find to be "weird" or "creepy". Hey, you don't hear 2 billion Christians crying about Jesus looking in on their personal business. I mean this guy is way more intrusive than Superman. Christ is everywhere! He watches you on the toilet, getting to third base with some stranger in a taxi cab, wearing your pet chihuahua like a hat while singing showtunes – and the list goes on. So what if Superman spends a couple of seconds overhearing a conversation? He's probably saved your life about 20 times over. I'd probably let him spank my wife with a cactus branch if he felt like it and thank him afterward for the honor!

So how does this movie stack up to its predecessors? To me, there really isn't a contest. Whereas I enjoyed Superman: The Movie as one of the most entertaining and fun superhero films, there was always that resentment for Donner's choice at making Luthor a jester of a villain with a bumbling sidekick you'd just love to run over with a dump truck. Adding in vague psychic powers and an ending that boggles the mind (and not in a good way) and you have a fun film that didn't quite hit the mark perfectly.

Superman II, I thought, was even better mixing in more action than the previous film, but thrown in was even more humor and camp. Sadly, things only went downhill from there. Richard Pryor mugged his way through Superman III while... er... what happened in Superman IV? Who cares, the last two flicks in the series were like a bad dream, which is great since Superman Returns seems to begin where Superman II left off.

And what about that cast? Kevin Spacey takes a sledgehammer to Gene Hackman's forehead (not literally) by being the playfully ruthless villain he should be. Parker Posey as Kitty Kowalski? Oh you lovely minx, you're the best hapless female sidekick with nothing to gain but a trip to Metropolis Women's Prison ever. Brandon Routh hits a homerun as Superman while Kate Bosworth as Lois Lane for me was a bit sterile, but my loins ached with love for both of them (and are still aching). And please don't forget James Marsden a.k.a. Cyclops who actually got some screen time as Lois Lane's long-time boyfriend and who thankfully doesn't get his ass handed to him half as much as it did in the X-Men movies.



In the end, If there is anything bad to say about Superman Returns, it's that it perhaps went on a little too long, but maybe that's my ADD-damaged brain wanting to see more explosions and action instead of slow dialogue and thoughtful pacing. I usually have a lot of daggers to toss at films, but this time, I think Bryan Singer has created something almost impeccable in its technical aspects while delivering heat vision to the testicles in the enjoyment category. So let's all bow our head and give thanks to a director who's proven that after 20 years you can still believe a man can fly.

There were two big movies I was looking forward to this summer - the first was X-Men 3, and the 2nd Superman Returns with V for Vendetta a curiosity on the outside edges of my memory. I mean, we all know what happens when comic books get turned into celluloid: You hire a dumb pretty moron (Jessica Alba) or a big-name actor not right for the part (George Clooney, Ben Affleck) or a director who has no idea what to do with the source material (Ang Lee) - mix in a cup of horrible CGI with a ho-yum story that may or may not even reflect its comic roots and you have 80% of American comic book movies (thank God for Sin City).

With the X-Men franchise though, I had yet to be let down. In fact, Bryan Singer turned our merry mutants into a stylish, action filled series that was on track to something epic with the Phoenix Saga. Now, V for Vendetta, when I first saw the ads, looked to me like a re-visitation of The Phantom starring D-List celebrity Billy Zane, except this time with Natalie Portman who comes off of the prequel to Star Wars which by all rights SHOULD have made her a D-List celebrity.

So I finally got to watch both my favorite mutants and my favorite masked terrorist in their respective films and decided to do a versus of both films - I wonder how many of you felt the same way I did?

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Just to prelude this review, I have to say that I have no shame in saying I'm a total X-Men fanatic. Alright, there's some shame, like the shame I feel when I admit I paid money to join the Janet Jackson fan club in 1989, but therapy really can work wonders for these kinds of things. I spent hundreds and hundreds of dollars on back issues, special covers, novels, posters, rolling papers, breast pumps – anything that had the X-Men logo on it, I bought. So I think it's fair that I have a vested interest in wanting the property to be turned into a film that retains the "feel" of what makes the X-Men so great while minimizing any crappiness that may taint it, such as involving Resident Evil director Paul W.S. Anderson in any capacity whatsoever.

I'm also a huge fan of Alan Moore (V for Vendetta and The Watchmen writer), and I know his work is outstanding. As to whether his source material has been done justice, one should look at the films From Hell or League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and make their own decision, but for the most part, Mr. Moore has distanced himself from Hollywood adaptations, and for good reason. I love me some X-Men and I love me some Alan Moore, but although Moore's writing may have a more adult or sophisticated tone than what the X-Men have to offer, how did they compare after being taken to the silver screen?

In previous incarnations, the X-Men series has proven competent. Sure the first one had parts that dragged and Storm's weave was horrific and Cyclops was a neutered wuss, but overall, Bryan Singer set the tone for the next installment. X-Men 2: X-Men United provided excellent action scenes with fun dialogue and sure Storm's weave was horrific and Cyclops was a crybaby wuss, but that ending left fanboys drooling for more, myself included.



V for Vendetta, on the other hand, is the first in what one can only hope is a singular installment (if only because the movie doesn't exactly leave you even needing one). Its source material was a lauded comic book series written by a surly old Brit that was never as popular or perhaps mainstream as our favorite band of angsty mutants, but whose themes aren't any less important. I think it's safe to say that expectations for V weren't close to being on par with what we may have been expecting with X-3, and maybe that is what made the film even better.

Thematically, both films present relevant social issues with Last Stand tackling bigotry and ethical questions of changing innate parts of ourselves while Vendetta deals with fascism and subsequent anarchy or revolution. Last Stand on one hand is a fantastical ride that tries to parallel the social issues revolving around discrimination of homosexuals, minorities and the disabled – in fact, all the series' films have maintained that one point and how we, as a society, deal with those issues. In X-3, the beginning of the movie (look away if you don't want spoilers) introduces us to Warren Worthington, a young man desperate to remove the budding pair of wings that have sprouted out of his back, but what is fascinating is that in wanting to appease his father, he has gone so far as to use knives and cutting utensils to try and saw them off regardless of the pain it might cause him. As the film progresses, the human community has seemingly found a "cure" that would somehow remove the "renegade" mutant gene and change mutants back to their "natural" selves. After resident drama queen Storm gives a hearted speech about why there is no need to be "cured", a war erupts between those who consider the "cure" a prelude to genocide and those who choose to fight for peace a.k.a. those looking for more screen time.



I applaud that Singer's films have never thrown the underlying issues in your face. It was a subtler attempt to bring attention to the plight of those who are different and the problems they face from society and from themselves. Unlike the "aren't-we-all-a-little-downright-racist?" social sledgehammer to the face that was Crash, X-3 shows multiple viewpoints from Professor X's dream for peace and equality through diplomacy (and optic blasts) to Magneto's dream of cucaracha-like humans being crushed beneath homo superior's feet to even the humans just doing what they do best: paving roads with good intentions that end in explosions and faceless soldiers used as target practice. V for Vendetta is a bit more pointed, on the other hand.

Imagine a world where leaders have used propaganda, fear mongering and force to hold its citizens captive not only by guns and authority but through the media. There are no superpowered mutant teams (some with horrible hairpieces) to stand up to dictators; there is only obedience or death. This is the dystopian future where government rules with an iron fist and you'd better not be Muslim, gay, slightly retarded or lazy-eyed because the government can and will be dropping by to kill you.

Sure, there's a parallel to the ultra-conservative propagandistic leaders today driving the United States and Great Britain to war with terror alerts and anthrax scares and wiretapping, but throughout history, peoples have always dealt with these issues everywhere in the world. Taking a cue from today's headlines, the Wachowski brothers (The Matrix) have created a screenplay that is brave and hard-hitting, especially in an atmosphere where questioning authority in itself can be considered treasonous, and never shies away from the main subject of the story: the battle against tyranny through anarchy and deliciously flamboyant capes and masks.

I thought both films did a superb job of tackling their respective matters. Vendetta may have veered into more modern liberal-scented territories, but it handles the story with gusto as does X-3, albeit without the Singer-inspired style we are accustomed to. So now that we've seen what both movies had in store for us thematically, how did they do otherwise?

Visually, V for Vendetta is striking. It's gripping and it's visceral and at points, even beautiful. Although "V" (our freedom fighting anarchist) wears a mask, the actor beneath (Hugo Weaving) is perfect for the role, using body language and voicework with finesse giving us a character we can relate to as well as be disgusted by. Natalie Portman crawls out of the Sarlacc pit that was her stint on Star Wars by actually being an actress; unlike her Padme counterpart, Evey has more than two emotions. After Garden State, Vendetta is a slingshot upward for her and all I can say is that if George Lucas asks you to do anything ever again, just mace him and don't look back until you reach a police station. You're on a roll.



Fascist-controlled London is dark, yet somehow sterile, crippled by Orwellian surveillance watching peoples' every move. This doesn't differ much from current-day London except that perhaps dictators have forced restaurant owners to provide food that doesn't taste like cardboard. Regardless, the set pieces are memorable and when V decides to bust heads, it's graceful while menacing and in the end it all comes together beautifully and although I watched the movie almost six weeks after its original debut, the crowd in my theater gave it loud applause.

X-Men 3: The Last Stand, while impressive considering all of the technical problems producers had during its filming, didn't deserve the same reception. Don't get me wrong, the special effects in this film are amazing. When Phoenix goes ape-shit (which she does a lot), the carnage is gorgeous. Magneto, like Homey, don't play dat and when he gets pissed off, you'd better pray he doesn't pull your pacemaker out of your ass because this guy is ruthless. Cars explode left and right, mutants display all sorts of inventive powers and Rebecca Romijn gets naked, satisfying the audience to the point where some end up satisfying themselves while watching.

Still, even though the special effects look great (look for an effective de-aging of Magneto and Professor X scene), there is just something missing. Perhaps it's that Ratner is no Bryan Singer and it shows or that the wire-work in the fight scenes isn't all that believable, but the whole production just seemed rushed. When Ratner took over the series, he was left with all sorts of baggage to clean up, all while being pushed to release the film before Singer's own future summer blockbuster Superman which may have been detrimental to creating the epic film he had been hoping for. Unfortunately, it turns out simply to be a fun popcorn flick, and maybe that's all that should have been expected.



In the end, both films succeed in all categories: Storylines, visuals, sound and lack of any involvement of Paul W.S. Anderson, but which one trumps the other? The answer is V for Vendetta by a mile. X-3 may have awesome special effects and a naked Rebecca Romijn, but V runs circles around the X-Men faster than Callisto, which doesn't make much sense since in the comic book Callisto doesn't have super running abilities – stupid Ratner! So, if you're waiting for great films to see before Superman, you'll find that both of these films are both worth the money.

Hey guys. Well, it's the day after the trip and I am beat. I mean truly I feel like I've been doing marathons, except instead of running all day I've been drinking furiously and smoking cigars. Los Angeles can take its toll on you – the pollution, the panhandlers and the coven of prostitutes living next to your hotel (in a cardboard box no less) can sometimes get you down. Nightsb and I both agreed that Los Angeles is 10 times dirtier than New York City, and that's really not an exaggeration, but who can complain when you meet up with the kinds of awesome individuals I did this past week?

I figure that since I had some time (and I'm sober), I would post some of the photos I didn't have time to post during the week - a time to reminisce and remember all the stuff I forgot while my brain was swimming in a vat of open-bar alcohol. Walk with me won't you?



Here's Echo Park, the park where dreams go to die. Actually it looks like a very sweet park which is unfortunately surrounded by despair and car fumes, but inside there are all sort of wonders. Look at the beautiful fountains as well as the tall, swaying palm trees – the main problem being that you can't witness the RAMPAGING RABIES INFECTED GEESE that line the pond's shores. One of them had the gall to come up to me and almost bite my privates and I knew it was trying terror tactics because he thought I was in his "territory". I'm not sure if he was Blood or Crip but I won't be going back to Echo Park until they do something about the gang goose problem.



After being chased out of Echo Park by gang members, I and my lily-white posse made our way through the mean streets of LA. We had to make our way quickly back to our hotel because the sun was out and we were afraid Rogue might start to get a little color and we knew that if we weren't quick, his frail British body would burst into flames.



Here's Danny aka DanyToca on the forums, who is much quieter in person than in the reality of N-Philes forums. Danny apparently left on his own to a beach – or so he said since he came back and I didn't see any beach towel, beach memorabilia or see sand in his shoes. If I didn't know better I'd say he ain't doing any fishing up on Brokeback Beach. But everyone loved Danny and his buddy Mohammed who may or may not be conjoined twins of different races.



Here's Jared (N-Philes King) and I sharing a moment after getting drop-down drunk at the E-Focus party (which was impossibly fun). What once was a rivalry turned into chumliness after sharing a moment at the giant Optimus Prime statue at E3 – and I even gave him the coolest Marvel playing cards in existence.



Jordan (aka King of Hyrule) turned out to be the coolest roommate ever as it turns out he's not a prepubescent, blonde cel-shaded weiner-kid I was expecting. In fact, he's nothing like Wind Waker Link at all, but in fact is a cool guy all his own. At times we thought he might smile himself into a coma, but it was the kid's first E3 and he obviously was enjoying himself. Only two years until he can drink something that isn't carbonated and lacking alcohol!



Then, of course, you can't forget Rogue aka Gareth who spent most of the trip asking where other people were and worrying that he wasn't going to impress other slobs at the many parties and functions were were going to. A mix between South Park's Tweak and Pip, our beloved webmaster/worrier charmed the group with his ability to complain about even the coolest of things while having the greatest time. Cheers to Gareth who better come next year. In this picture Rogue was feelin' blue that it was the last day at E3 and we soon would be going our separate ways. Scroll your cursor over the picture to see how N-philes goes out of its way to cheer our friends up.



At the event, these two amazing young people cosplay like they've never cosplayed before for a crowd that immediately surrounded them. Knowing they would never get this kind of attention in real life at their jobs at AOL customer service and Applebee's, they hammed it up for all the nerds to see. I think I saw Link in the bathroom later that day but it's hard to ask if someone is Link while they're taking a whiz.



It's hard not to stop every person wearing a costume to take a picture with them but I just had to do this with Blossom, my favorite Powerpuff Girl. Since I'm of the pink persuasion, most of my E3 teammates usually ask me to take pictures of them with the extremely sexy E3 babes walking around in skimpy outfits, so it aggravates me when I ask them to take pictures of me with the non-sexual game mascots such as Dexter and Pikachu and they get an atittude. Ain't no shame in posing with underpaid ex-cons dressed up like videogame characters – that's my motto.



So ends another year with more stories to tell, and this time I've written them down instead of totally forgetting them, like I did last year. No, this time I can look back on this blog in 20 years and see exactly where it all went right. But instead of goodbye, let's all say hello – hello to this awesome video of Chat Team's own Gogita eating things nobody else will with hilarity ensuing. Nightsb is also on the footage as is GreenNight and Rogue from the N-P forums, all people I would trust my children with, assuming I will ever be allowed to have them!

Enjoy: