The Amputee

The festering wound. Too deep to fully heal, resonating pain equal to its repulsiveness. The girl harboring this wound insisted on action. Prolonging the pain waiting for medicine to take effect didn't seem necessary to her. No medication could tame the wild burning pain, no one person could help. She had known what had to be done. A simple procedure, removing the limb. Her suggestion refused time and time again by those with the years to make decisions for her.

It was the only option, she was more than sure of it. Removing the suppurating wound entirely was the only way to completely remove her pain. She would learn to walk a little differently than others -- nevertheless, without a painful limp for the first time in years. For months she thought on this, pleading to many doctors "please, remove the limb. Please, please remove the pain.” None were willing to give in to her request, presenting the condescending reassurance “you’ll be fine! You’ll see,” instead.

Nothing anyone said was of any comfort to her. "Wait it out, it'll get better." Empty words when they're not sharing her pain. No one else had the same deep throb, or burning aches resonating from that hideous wound through their entire body. This was her pain. It was a personal experience that couldn’t be shared or explained, they simply didn’t understand.

Relief soon came to her with a developing plan, she'd seen that she was left with no other choice.

"It is the only choice," she repeated to herself, sometimes out loud as reassurance. It had to be the only way. It had to be done tonight, she couldn't take any more.

Preparations were made; a candle lit, a cord tied tight, ice administered to numb. A saw. A long slender saw with what seemed like a million serrated teeth sent to rescue her. This tool was a godsend, a release from her torment. Heat it a little, it will cut flesh as though it were butter. She rehearsed the procedure for an hour, maybe two.

She let out a deep sigh of relief as she began, it might finally be over!

Before long however, the saw was no longer fast enough, the ice no longer cold enough. A burning rush of blood pours from the saws point of entry, the makeshift tourniquet was not twisted tight enough, the saw wasn’t sharp enough. Heat rushed away from her fingers, her hands, her arms, her face. She could hear her heartbeat in the back of her mind. Slowing, crawling, quieting. The pain was more now, much more than before. Pure terror gripped the girl as her red life poured all about the floor.

Was this still the right choice? Was it not rehearsed enough in her mind?

The saw stopped at bone, her hands were too cold and void of life to move. Her throat grew tight from the shock, no sound came when she called out. Anything now would be too little, too late.

If only someone had listened. If only she hadn't been forced to take these actions herself. Maybe, just maybe, she'd still be alive and in much better health. If only...

Is Exclusive Content Bad For Gaming?

Image compliments of BAPengin at Co-optimus.com - it makes me laugh, a lot.

Recently I've noticed a disturbing trend in the gaming market. It is the addition of game-altering exclusives with nearly every pre-order on the market, primarily at Gamestop!

Over at www.co-optimus.com I delved into this trend a bit to spark some debate; does game-altering exclusive content available by pre-order only effect the way you feel about games, developers, or publishers - or are we just overreacting when we say we don't get the "full experience" if a piece of the game is cut out for everyone else?

This is where you chime in. Head over to co-optimus.com and throw a few verbal tomatoes.

(Is Exclusive Content Bad For Gaming?)

When I Suck At Games: Friend Vs. Friend, FIGHT!

Monthly Musing from Destructoid.com. These editorials are a lot of fun, and I'm glad I was given permission to repost this!



Palms sweating, thumbs twitching, reflexes...flexing.

*Hadoken! Shoryuken!*

Rage fills all speech centers of your mind after your friend, who doesn't normally play any video games, wallops you up side your Blanka skull. Insults like "You Cheated!", "You picked a cheap character!" "Fighting games aren't real games!" and the likes fly from your mouth. Before you realize it, you want to curl up with Phoenix Wright and forget the whole thing ever happened.

Relationships destroyed, friendships lost, sibling rivalries fueled, and hours of frustration against the savant gamers that have mastered the art of mashing A in your face. In spite of being a fencer that "fights" on a strip much like these games, I simply suck at Fighting Games. There, I said it. Nothing frustrates me more than my opponent landing some cheap-shot punch. Parry, riposte, touche! Not, A, B, Up, Forward, B - this form of fighting does not compute.


Come to the dahk side, where we say engarde!

Button mashing is for the birds, Fatalities frustrate, Bridget is a boy, Tekken can tag out, Dead or Alive can stay dead, and someone else can take home that misspelled Soul Calibur for all I care. No matter how much I play them, I will never be good at fighting games. When I was a young child of 17, I would ditch school to wrap myself up in Super Smash Bros. Melee, fighting hordes of bad guys in the challenges to unlock the trophies for my invisible bookshelf. I packed many hours into this task. Yet, when a friend would pick up player 2's controller, I would experience a kind of torture that most only experience when they run out of vasaline..."Kirby can fly. You should've died just then! That's not fair!"

Fighting games must have some hidden appeal, aside from the busty babes and shiny uber-weapons that is - maybe it's pounding people like me right into the floor. I pick up the controller with the hopes of smashing some Mario skull with Donkey Kong - giving that poor ape his due reward after all these years, only to find myself weeping at the sight of "Mario Wins!" flashing on the screen. Guilty Gear has that crazy tall guy with a bag on his head armed with a giant scalpal, what's not full of win in that character design? That is, up until someone yo-yo's you with the cross-dressing little boy, and win becomes lose. You can cry in that bag, that's what it's for.


I've got an idea: how about we watch ME play games, beating the crap outta that guy instead!

I play video games for the depth of story, the smooth 'Splosion style platforming, the character development, and the Metal Gears. Fighting games just don't have it for me. Some characters may be fighting for the greater good, or to save a helpless family member, to rule the world, or simply because they're a Sith. Maybe I dislike fighting games because I'm terrible at them, or maybe I just dislike them. Give me horror, give me action, give me Spider-man! But, when friends come around...

I'll make up excuses, some more viable than others, to get out of playing fighting games. "My wrist hurts." "I have malaria today." "I think my liver just asked to be removed, I'll catch up with you later." Occasionally my Smash Bros, or Soul Calibur games will go "missing," and I'll play co-op Guitar Hero with my friends instead.

Leave me to my Tekken bowling, DOA Volleyball, or Smash Bros arena. I didn't buy these games to play with the likes of you - it's a spiritual journey, and I don't want my ass kicked while I'm walking the Earth.

Visual aid for those that wish to frustrate a Ryu.