13 Hitchhiking Ghosts (or Why I Spend Thirty Percent of my Disney Vacation with My Hands Over My Eyes)

This blog was inspired by Rob Plays, a Youtuber and Disney fan. He and his cohort put out a video each listing their top five scariest things in the Disney theme parks. I thought it might be fun to scroll through my own childhood memories to see what I thought the top five most frightening things in the parks were.

Then my mind wouldn't stop at five. So I thought I might push it to ten. That number also came and went. And it was at that point I realized just how much time I spend on the rides with my eyes closed.

Here's the thing: animatronics scare the hell out of me. I have no idea why. My adult brain just seems to misfire neurons when confronted with something that looks like it's supposed to be alive but is clearly nothing more than a mechanical apparatus with eyes. I love Disney, but the place really creeps me out.

In the interest of attempted brevity, I'm going to personalize my list by focusing on things that probably nobody but me is bothered by. So, deliberate jump scare moments with the yetis on the Matterhorn and Expedition Everest are out, as is the whole damn Snow White ride (which, to this day, I have not seen more than twenty percent of). With those eliminations, I think I've been able to narrow it down to the thirteen Disney ghosts that have followed me home.


13. The Ghost Host, The Haunted Mansion (Disneyland)

Specifically the one from Disneyland. To be honest, the Haunted Mansions are more fascinating than scary. Yeah, the ghosts popping up are never fun for me, and the incarnations that use the huge spiders don't help my arachnophobia any, but I'm much better on The Haunted Mansion than most dark rides.

But then there's that stretching room that leads up to the reveal of the Ghost Host hanging from the ceiling above you. In the California attraction, the floor you're on is actually lowering, which means when you first walk in you're very close to the 'dead body' on the other side of the ceiling scrim. When I first figured that out, I was compelled to stare as hard as I could at the ceiling before we started moving to see if I could spot some trace of the apparition. But then I thought, what if I really did see it? And since then I won't look up until I know we're way down at the bottom of the elevator. Just in case.


12. Sabor, Tarzan's Treehouse (Disneyland)

Hey, you know what's fun after getting up at five in the morning, walking several acres across a parking lot, and standing in at least a dozen lines? Climbing steps. In a fake tree.

Tarzan moved into the Swiss Family Robinson's home and brought with him a few surprises to prove the Imagineers did more than put up a new sign. And in Tarzan's childhood home is Sabor, the feral leopard. Sabor is technically a statue, not an animatronic, but it doesn't help. That psychotic look on the creature's face gives one (this one) a sense that adrenaline has kicked in and time only seems to be frozen. It's made all the worse by the fact that you can't see Sabor from any kind of distance. You have to duck your head into the house, and surprise! Thanks Disney.


11. The Owl, Tom Sawyer's Island, (uncertain)

Tom Sawyer's Island is an interesting oddity. If you're on a tight timeframe, you're likely to skip this place; a pity, but an understandable one. If you do venture onto the island, you have what amounts to a personal adventure of exploration. You might find a merry-go-round that looks like a rock, a barrel bridge, and a cave or two.

In at least one of the parks there was a large wooden structure, probably a mill, I don't really remember. I went back and forth through it a couple of times. Nice I guess, no big deal. Then at one point I was inside the place, and for whatever reason I happened to look up, and- holy f- how long has that been there? Yeah, it's just an owl (excuse me, a lifeless shell pretending to be an owl), but damn if that thing wasn't staring right at me. I think it sucked out a small but significant piece of my soul forever.


10. Skeletons, The Pirates of the Caribbean, (Magic Kingdom)

This one is just creepy. The cue line for the Pirates at one point takes you around both sides of a cell where a couple of pirates have died while playing cards. For me, it's the fact that you're up, looking down into the cell below. You can't really get a good view, which gives your mind a few gaps to fill in. Why are they down there? How did they die? Are they actually going to get up and move around?

When I see something from a distance that makes me uncomfortable, my brain automatically starts rewriting reality as if I'm right in the middle of said location. I can't help but imagine what it's like to just be down there, sitting on display.


9. Chernabog, Fantasia Mini-Golf, (Magic Kingdom)

Okay, to be fair this one really isn't bad, it's more the idea that's unsettling. Fantasia Mini-Golf is a great golf course with a lot of fun obstacles. But about halfway through the course there's a cave, which is never a pleasant sign. And the hole even warns you that you might encounter the Slavic deity of dead raising, soul crushing, and karaoke on Thursdays.

He's in there all right. Barely. Imagine if a kid in class hand draws the big guy on an overhead projector sheet and then shines it on the wall. And then turns the light off and back on. Oooh, scary. My wife sometimes likes to remind me of "that tiny gargoyle" that made me so uncomfortable, but you know what? We were in a cave! And it was Chernabog! Come on, he could jump off the wall at any time!


8. Monstro, Storybook Land Canal Boats, (Disneyland)

Monstro's not exactly a surprise on this ride. You see him from the walkway, you see him from the cue, and you see him as your boat drags slowly into his giant mouth while the underpaid attendant gives a half-assed "Oh no, we're being swallowed by the whale from the 1940 classic Pinocchio, sit down kid or your face is going into the bromine filled lake water!"

But then you're through the mouth and you forget about him. And you trudge past miniature versions of Atlantica and Agrabah and sit there thinking you could have been on Space Mountain twice instead of doing this, and suddenly those huge teeth reappear over your shoulder. It's the same Monstro that you just went through, but the ride has doubled back on itself. He's not meant to be part of the tour a second time but he's still larger than the wall separating the two sections. It's a little jarring and embarrassing, in that order.


7.-5. A Bull/A Dead Dinosaur/A Semi-Truck, Mr. Toad/Big Thunder Mountain/Test Track

This is the part of the blog where I start to get tired of typing, and since these three are essentially jump scares there's not much to say except that I startle easily.

Mr. Toad's Wild Ride is no more in Florida, but in its heyday it was a true work of chaos. Everything from the iconic suit of armor that falls at you to the fact that you end up in Hell could serve as a bit of nightmare fuel. For me the worst of it was the damned bull, which I believe was a two dimension piece of wood they shoved at you. But no matter how fake it looked, I swear it almost hit us.

The dinosaur bones on Big Thunder Mountain serve as the climax of the rollercoaster (that couldn't be bothered to add in a decent drop after the dramatic final lift). There's no warning. It's just 'round the last curve and, oh, were your hands up? Well, they're not anymore. And may never be again.

And then there's the 'surprise' truck that lights up at the most sadistic moment in the Test Track ride, blaring its horn and eliminating the possibility of ever trusting the world again. Fun times.


4. Maleficent, Sleeping Beauty Castle, (Disneyland)

I don't know why Disney won't say Sleeping Beauty[apostrophe s] Castle, but if you've never been to the park in California you'll be surprised at how small the castle is. Depending on when in time you visit the park there might be a walkthrough attraction telling the story of Sleeping Beauty. So, um, who's the first character you think of when I say Sleeping Beauty?

The truth is, nothing bad ever really happens. But you can't push through the tight corridors without feeling that it might. You may have had the experience a hundred identical times and still sense that THIS time Maleficent might be standing in some nook. Or may appear in a green wisp right in front of you. The attraction is claustrophobic, and you know the dragon is going to make an appearance somewhere in some form. They once had a miniature version of it in a window display that I swear looked way bigger than it could possibly have been.

This hidden attraction also has a longer lasting effect on your whole Disneyland visit. If this whole story exists in this small castle, what other surprises are you going to find in every other corner of Walt's park? So you start glancing over your shoulder. And then you start finding things. And you are now officially paranoid. Welcome to the party.


3. The Crocodile, Peter Pan's Flight, (Magic Kingdom)

I don't find crocodiles all that frightening in real life. Dangerous, yes, but I don't have any kind of fear reflex upon seeing them. I can't say the same for fake crocodiles. My best theory? Sculptors are horrible people. Every crocodile I've seen at any mini-golf course or jungle themed ride has this...aura about it. Their expressions always look predatory, combining threats of eating and/or drowning you; and unlike sharks, they can chase you up on land.

The witch from Snow White's ride stopped my heart a few times, but the crocodile has inserted himself into the plotlines of many a nightmare. If I went on the ride for the first time as an adult, I might not have such a strong reaction, but as a much smaller organism, the thing looked huge. And naturally I was on the left side of the boat where all the action happened. You first do a flyby just a little too close to him; followed by Captain Hook's ultimate demise, which is a bit of a left turn surprise that I found terrifying. And then as a nice touch, the monster shows up once more on the port side at the unloading area. I think I did a diving roll off the ride at the impressionable age of six.


2. The Former Guests, The Tower of Terror, Disney Studios

You know something else I'm not bothered by? Heights. I mean, there's a fun-fear, but it's not unpleasant for me. My enjoyment of The Tower of Terror was forever ruined by one malfunction and a little bit of thought.

I was on the ride and one of about a hundred possible reasons to have to shut down the attraction happened. My elevator was at the big drop when the lights came on and the prerecorded spiel about how much the attractions hosts really hate the tourists came through the speakers. We started going down at about half the speed of a real elevator. And on the way down we passed a couple of plastic glow-in-the-dark silhouettes of the 'ghost characters' that disappeared in the tower as per story. I just assumed they were spares for elsewhere in the ride being stored there.

But then I thought about it. And I realized they were there on purpose to be blink and you miss them ghostly images on the up and down thrill portion of the ride. Yeah, I know. A cheap Halloween store prop has imprinted on a grown man's brain causing him to think he's seeing real ghosts. I should be humiliated, and the fact that I'm not should tell you how strong of an impact these things really have on me.


1. Chernabog (again), The Share-a-Dream-Come-True Parade, (Magic Kingdom)

Only a handful of people get to experience this one. The DCT parade (originally the SAD parade, but management had no sense of irony) was a series of floats designed to be snow globes. The villains float housed a performer playing Snow White's wicked queen suffering through a sauna of about twenty degrees hotter than whatever the Florida weather was doing outside. Joining her on the float were other regulars like Maleficent, Cruella, Jafar, and a half living half mechanical Ursula on the back (That was me, Sean Astin! I blew you the kiss!). And towering over the queen with his claws on the glass was an inflatable Chernabog. It was awesome!

So yours truly had the hair pulling, skin crawling, tantrum inducing pleasure of getting stuck doing gantry in between day and night parades, which is basically busy work for the cast members who are already bitter about being unceremoniously yanked out of their bid lines. Among the menial tasks upon which we were impressed was cleaning the inside of the snow globe glass only as far up as we could reach (busy work).

So there I am in the villains globe, where the magic for anyone above eleven happens, actually kind of enjoying being there. We're only allowed to use water, because the parade just becomes confusing if the evil queen passes out on Main Street due to fumes. I've scrubbed off a full 360 of fingerprints from knee to shoulder level, and I'm just about to start reciting the queen's lines in Michael Eisner's voice when it occurs to me for the first time that Mr. Nabog's distorted eyes have been peering down at me this whole time.

You know those horror films that essentially amount to if you don't do this one thing you'll survive, and the prospective body count of the festivities makes a special trip out of their way to do that one thing? I swear I heard a full theater's audience chanting "Dude! Don't look up!" Well, I'm proud to say I took their advice. I clambered my way out of the tank and casually walked into the parade building where I pretended to drink from the water fountain for twenty minutes until it was time to head back to the main tunnel. I spent the next few days looking straight forward, convinced that he was still behind and above me. Sometimes in dark theaters or abandoned casino boats that I really have no business being in, I still feel Chernabog hovering, breathing down my neck, and waiting for the joy of my shriek of terror that I'd robbed him of.

Making magic memories.

The Wax Buzzard Files: Chapter Four -Chapter Three Part Two

 If you're joining the story for the first time, you've really missed a lot, and you should be ashamed. Why don't you get caught up while the rest of us tap our feet impatiently waiting for you?

Lunch with Miss Nomer and Mr. Happy's thugs was uneventful, with the exception of a Corvette that crashed through a window in the non-smoking section with its engine on fire; the driver was asked to leave. We did the usual routine; small talk, breadsticks, a shootout or two. Actually it was just one shootout that got interrupted by one of the waiters asking us if we wanted ground pepper.

I came out unscathed, mainly because I spent most of the gunfight in the kitchen complaining about the noise. By the time it was over the diner was a mess with broken glass everywhere, although most of that wasn't us, it was just the décor. That was the diner's gimmick: great food, and broken glass everywhere.

Miss Nomer had survived the ordeal the old fashioned way. She didn't get shot. I couldn't say the same for Zanzibar and Jake because the pronouns didn't match up. Jake had run out of bullets pretty quickly because he'd neglected to buy any. On the other hand, Zanzibar had plenty of bullets but he kept forgetting to load them into his gun. In the end, every bullet fired happened to hit the same patron, and he luckily turned out to be a pimp with a criminal record and several library fines.

Miss Nomer and I were left alone after that, Zanzibar ran off to take a phone call and Jake started filling out his college application. "Miss Nomer," I said. "May I call you Russell?"

"Why Russell?"

"I just wanted to see if you were listening." I took out the card she'd given me and set it on the table next to her, whereupon we got up and moved to that table to look at the card. "What is this about?"

"Have you read it yet?"

"I try to avoid reading if I can help it. I read somewhere that you can't believe everything you read."

She drew in a breath; not to say she hadn't been breathing the whole time but she had one of those femme fatale voices that she wanted to practice. "Mr. Guffey, I was hired to steal a priceless diamond."

"Everything's got a price," I said.

"Well this didn't. The tag had fallen off."

"And let me guess, you and your buyer couldn't agree on what it was worth. And with no price tag to settle the dispute, the deal was off."

"I ran."

"Did he threaten you?"

She swallowed hard. "I've never seen a man shake his fist so angrily. Please Detective, he's hired a specialist."

"Specializing in what?"

"Nothing special."

I pretended to take a sip of the empty glass on the table. "That doesn't sound good."

"If he finds me, my life won't be worth the scrabble tiles it takes to spell."

I agreed. "Those are pretty common letters. So why come to me? I mean, if there's no price on the diamond it's not technically theft. You could go to the police and say you just found it while you were trespassing in somebody's house."

"It's not that simple, Detective Guffey."

"Really? Why is that?"

"It just isn't."

"I think it probably is that simple."

"Well trust me, it isn't," she sneered. "If it were that simple, I would have done it. I didn't, so it's obviously not that simple. Can we please move on?"

"Have you tried going to the police? I bet if you gave that a shot you'd see how simple it-"

"That's it." She stood up, adjusted her dress, and walked over to the server who had just brought out a plate of spaghetti and two salads. She picked up the first salad and threw it onto the floor where the bowl smashed into ceramic pieces. The second followed suit.

I sighed. "All right. You've made your point. It's not that simple." The spaghetti plate went next. Then she broke the serving tray over her knee and threw it at the bottles behind the bar. "I said I believe you," I told her. "There's no need to make a scene."

"I know. I'm just having fun." She overturned three tables before sitting back down.

"So where is the diamond now?" I asked.

"I have it in a secret place."

"Can you tell me?"

"No. Then it wouldn't be a secret."

I was getting in over my head. I thought about bailing on her before the waiter brought us the check, but she abruptly stood up and pointed to one of the booths behind me.

"Don't look over there!" she advised. "There's a man at that table."

"What's he doing?"

"Ignoring us."

That seemed a little too suspicious. I moved over to where he was (without looking, as per Miss Nomer's request) and grabbed him by the collar. "What's the big idea of minding your own business?" I demanded.

He reached into his coat and pulled out a rubber chicken and hit me in the head with it, all the while sticking his tongue out going "bleah bleah bleah".

I shook him. "Don't be silly. I asked you a question."

Miss Nomer scurried up next to me. "Who is he?"

"He's an irritant," I said. The guy repeated my words in a mocking impression of me. "Somebody's toying with us." I shot him a look for continuing to copy me.

Miss Nomer looked back and forth between the two of us nineteen times. "Should we get out of here?"

"Yes," said the entire restaurant in unison. She flipped them off.

"Come on," I told her. "I know a guy who knows a guy."

"Can he help?"

"Who? The first guy or the second guy?"

"Either one!"

"Nope. We're on our own."

We pushed our way through the diner, bumping into each other the whole way (made all the more complicated by the fact that I was still holding on to the irritant's collar) and got stuck in the door. Somewhere, somebody had answers, that much I was sure. I could only hope that: one, I could find this person; two, their answers applied to my situation; and three, actually I miscounted, there were only two things. But one lesson that only life will teach you, because nobody else wants to, is sometimes your biggest obstacle is an open door.


In the interest of maintaining predictability, Chapter Five is next.

Super Punch-Line!! (Arcade Edition)

I don't know if you've ever tried doing stand up comedy, but I can tell you (from my very limited experience with the ordeal) that it's similar to the scene in Jurassic Park where Dennis Nedry has to leave the jeep to attach the wench while being sized up (and eventually being killed and eaten) by the dilophosaurus. You're basically throwing yourself into the wilds and hoping like hell you make it out with wounds that aren't permanent. Making people laugh when they aren't expecting it is actually not that difficult; but making them laugh when they ARE expecting it is the mental equivalent to a martial arts tournament.

It's no wonder that comedians adopt a violent natured vocabulary when describing their relationship to their audiences. "I killed 'em tonight!", "I was dying out there.", etc. When you also factor in that nearly everyone who goes into comedy does so to try to work through some personal darkness, it becomes easy to think of those who make us laugh as sort of cognitive fighters.

I look at a comedian like Steven Wright and I see a matador facing off against a massive beast (one that doesn't get murdered for the sake of entertainment). Ellen DeGeneres is a swashbuckler, more interested in making the blades dance than draw blood. The Pythons were the weapon designers, creating everything from flails to ballistae for young warriors to try on for size. And Seth MacFarlane is a brute.

But there's a special kind of comedian who regularly steps into the boxing ring, having to keep the crowds happy while also being prepared to take jabs from an unpredictable and often untrained opponent. These are the late night talk show hosts.

Have you ever really paid attention to these people? There is a lot more skill in being a talk show host than any of them will ever let on. Jokes have to be accessible to a national audience. Guests have to be treated with respect (the very opposite of comedy's nature). And sponsors have to be appeased. Meaning, when anything throws off the rhythm of a national talk show, it's on the shoulders of the host to protect everybody; utilizing every skill in their fighter's arsenal.

Realizing this, that got me thinking about the old 1983 arcade game Punch-Out!! where you take on the role of Little Mac and work your way through a series of boxers in a bid for the world championship. You know the one I'm talking about. "Body blow! Body blow! Duck! Duck! Uppercut! Knock him out!" And I started wondering, what might that game look like if it were translated into the late night talk show circuit, with various hosts as the boxers. I think it would go something like this.

6. Glass Joe

Okay, let's assume you're not familiar with the game. Little Mac is your guy with green hair and his body is presented in wire frame so you can see through him (exactly the way stand-up feels). He's center screen with his back to you and your opponents move around the ring facing him and the camera.

Glass Joe is your first opponent, and he's meant to be fairly unchallenging to get you to dump more quarters into the machine. His name is obviously a pun on 'glass jaw'.

Your opponent

Conan O'Brien. Now let me say at this point, this is not a list to suggest which late night talk show host is the funniest, it's only to analyze what I feel is each comedian's fighting style and to make the appropriate connection to the arcade game. Glass Joe is the boxer who teaches you how to play the game, and if you're going up against comedians, Conan is the guy you want to learn from.

Conan has the perpetual boyish charm, and he becomes funnier when he's surrounded by people who are deadpan serious. His humor is at its best when it's reactive; somebody gives him some things to work with and he puts them together in absurd ways. And this is why he's the right first opponent, it gives you a chance to control the playing field.

Again, let me stress I'm not placing him first on the roster as an insult Conan fans. It's just that everyone has a different sense of humor, and Conan's tends to be pretty sweet and generous. And it's also apparent when he's hurting. There are many sides to that whole debacle over The Tonight Show, but I will never forget how hurt Conan was by it and how much it showed on his face. Fullest round of bravado to him for getting back in the ring after that. He's easily the most vulnerable of all the comedians on this list, but don't let that fool you; he's still on this list because he's a force to be reckoned with.

5. Piston Hurricane

Your second opponent in the game is really when things get started. Kid gloves are off, boxing gloves are on. Old PH is a bruiser. You trade blows with him. He knocks you down. You knock him down. Then you feel like you've got the rhythm down. That's when he brings out the big guns, several rapid fire punches and an uppercut that sends you to the mat.

What the hell? Where'd that come from? You're back on your feet getting your groove back, when bam! He does it again? How do you avoid that? You replay it in your head looking for beats where you could block or counter. You've got a couple of ideas now but it's too late. You're down for the K.O. Damn it! Gimme a quarter!

David Letterman

Letterman made a reputation for himself by having a kind of snide quality. Some have called him mean-spirited, while others say that's just a synonym for funny. Whether or not you take to his particular brand of humor, you have to admit Dave had a sharp tongue. More often than not he'd withhold its use but if you gave him a reason to he'd give you a lashing and you'd feel it for years.

A friend of mine pointed out how well Letterman could recover from a bit that wasn't working. It's a skill all comedians have to learn if they hope to avoid being swallowed, but yeah, Dave could do it without flinching. I suggested to my friend that Letterman may have deliberately allowed the show to turn downwards just so he could save it. My friend was thrown by the idea. "I never thought about that, do you really think so?" Of course. No magician reminds the audience that everything is okay while he saws a woman in half. Tension-release doesn't work if there's no tension.

4. Bald Bull

A lot of people probably think that Bald Bull was the final boxer, and that's because so few people made it past him. Piston Hurricane was the first opponent who fought like he wanted to punch you through the floor. Bald Bull could actually do it.

You know I haven't mentioned this, I've never played this game. One of the joys of the arcade was being able to stand behind a total stranger and watch them test their own skill on their own quarter and reap the adrenaline of their success or failure. I can't tell you how many times I've held my breath watching Bald Bull go down for a count of three before rising up again and that health bar creeping all the way back to full. And then that look. Pure vindictiveness aimed at the player and the small group gathered around the machine. I knew we were all going to die.

Jay Leno

Hear me out. I know it's hard to imagine Mr. Headlines even in a fight, much less delivering a Bald Bull pummeling; but that's the trick. The mind of a comedian often follows the same beats as that of a sociopath. The main difference is that a comedian is not a sociopath, they know there are real people with real feelings who can be lifted up or beaten down by a clever turn of a phrase or left field comparison. Comedians use their own mental prowess to filter their own human darkness into manageable laughs for the rest of us. And the nice ones REALLY hold themselves back.

Look at Leno and every time he's chuckled and proclaimed some Hollywood a-hole as "a great guy". For decades he maintained that 'aw shucks' attitude no matter how much criticism or insults he took. Now look at his skills. The guy knows how to monologue. He's got jokes. Sure every comedian's got jokes, but Leno's got a full almanac at his disposal. Any situation, he can whip out a handful that are not only appropriate to the occasion but he has a sixth sense about the order to place them in. Easy joke followed by off the wall joke followed by cheap joke followed by cutting edge joke...

Now imagine going up against Leno where there can only be one winner. Now you see why he's the Bald Bull of the late night circuit? You only get the upper hand because he allows you to, just to see if he needs to dole out anything more than softballs. Then you put him in the corner and feel pretty good about yourself. He gets back up and gives you a puckish wink. And you're down. He helps you back up, and you're down again. And when you've had more than you can take, he stands over you jovially, telling you what a great guy you are.

3. Kid Quick

Any lucky schmoes who manage to survive the previous round are presented with what looks like it's going to be a breather episode. Kid Quick is exactly what his name implies. He doesn't hit you with single blows that put you away. He comes at you with a series of strikes that turn you into his punching bag. You try to retaliate and he dances around you. He shouldn't be this much trouble, so what the hell is happening?

Comedy, as an entity, will allow you through it's doors if you can only do one thing. That's all you need; to be good at one thing. But the tides of comedy also shift. And there will come a point where those who can only do one thing will be shown the exit. If you're going to stay in comedy, you've got to have versatility. One thing will get you through the door, but you'll need at least three to have any sort of longevity. Kid Quick tests your ability to adjust your tactics.

Stephen Colbert

With Leno or Letterman, if you got on their bad side you'd know it. You wake up in an alley somewhere with a new nose and a realization that challenging a freight train to a game of chicken was never going to end well. But you wind up on Colbert's bad side, you'll spend the rest of your life paranoid that the world never made sense. You don't wake up in an alley after being Colbert's punching bag. You wake up at home, in bed, in a Twilight Zone version of the life you formerly had where people who never gave you a second glance are now assuring you that "you did really well out there" and you have literally no idea what the f**k just happened.

The Daily Show has given us the heroes of legends, but nobody is more controlled and precise than Stephen Colbert. He's the comedic version of a surgeon. He brings a scalpel to a cannon fight, and you expect a barrage of force is going to obliterate him off the map before you even look his way. But then the dust clears, and he's dodged everything you've thrown at him. Damn it, Colbert! You reload your cannons and light the fuses, which burn halfway down before falling to the ground harmlessly, because he's used his scalpel faster than you can load your cannons. Now he stares at you, just out of reach, with an impish grin that says "Give me all of whatever you've got left." You have no option left but to charge him directly, not realizing that you only have one direction to move in and he has a whole plane in which to sidestep you. You're now face down in the dirt, at his mercy.

You're lucky he's only going to open you up and transplant some humility into you (you know who you are).

2. Pizza Pasta

I had to look this guy up online to prove that he ever existed. I swear I saw somebody fight Mr. Pasta waaaaay back in the day, but then he was gone (Maybe Nintendo didn't want to stereotype Italians?).

So...Pizza (you horrible parents, no wonder he's mad) was ultimately filler to delay the inevitable. He apparently has a special attack that drains your health, but really, who cares? What we need to know is this boxer was one shy of the champion, and only appeared in the first arcade game. So I'm going to treat him as an optional opponent.

Jack Parr

Very little still exists of Jack Parr's hosting of The Tonight Show (or Tonight Starring Jack Parr). His tenure ran from 1957 to 1962, having inherited the slot from Steve Allen. History records Parr as being emotional and unpredictable, at least for live television of the late 50's. For example, his introduction of Jayne Mansfield was a simple change of tense "Here they are, Jayne Mansfield!" referring to her iconic cleavage.

The most retold story about Jack Parr involved a bit he did in February of 1960 that centered around a "water closet" (oh my, what a rapscallion) or toilet, as we say in America. Network censors cut the joke without telling him. Parr's response was to tell his live audience "There must be a better way of making a living than this," whereupon he walked off the show during the airing. The details of what happened after that are unclear, but apparently he was persuaded to return on March 7 to pick up where he left off with "As I was saying before I was interrupted...I believe my last words were that there must be a better way of making a living than this. Well, I've looked... and there isn't." He continued hosting for another three years.

Jack Parr was obviously before my time, so I can't really offer more than a passing comprehension of who he was. And while I don't agree with walking out on your job over something so trivial, I have to admit that he must have been a badass. Not because he walked, but because he was not just allowed, but persuaded to return. He had to have been good at what he did. So if we're considering a host congruent with Pizza "the Hutt" Pasta (the guy one knockout shy of the world champion), Jack Parr is that fighter.

1. Mr. Sandman

Before the game series started kissing up to Mike Tyson to use his likeness as the final boss, Punch-Out!! had an original character as the final opponent, Mr. Sandman. The most interesting thing about Sandy was that there wasn't anything interesting about him. Each of the previous boxers had a quirk, some special move or weak spot or something to distinguish their fight from the rest of the game. Mr. Sandman didn't have any of that. What he had was the most skill overall.

When you imagine Punch-Out!! as only the tip of a rich iceberg of boxing history that has led up to this particular roster, a lot of questions answer themselves about why Kid Quick's tactics have moved him to a higher ranking than Piston Hurricane's combos. And the fact that Mr. Sandman is ahead of everybody else without any sort of signature move that only he can do, it tells you exactly how good of a boxer he is. And let's face it, in terms of late night hosts there was only ever going to be one guy at the top.

Johnny Carson

The comedians you see in front of an audience typically don't exist once they step out of the spotlight. The ones who do, like Groucho Marx, tend to drive their human counterpart into misery; Julius Marx was one of the greatest comedic performers who sadly never found peace through his craft. But the Carson that you know, or know of, stayed on the stage. The real life Johnny was incredibly shy. His friend Dick Cavett said that Carson was the most socially uncomfortable person he'd ever known. As such, Carson's public persona achieved the same thing for himself it did for the rest of us; transcendence.

All talk show hosts are their own circus ringmasters, but Carson was THE ringmaster. From start to finish, he was in control of the show. Under anybody else, there's always a chance of the trapeze artist slipping or the elephant getting blinded by flash photography. Not with Carson. The chaotic elements of show business obeyed his will. If Don Rickles started upstaging him, or Siskel and Ebert got into a tiff during an interview, it wasn't because Carson had lost control. It was because he decided it would happen.

So you're stepping into the ring with Johnny Carson. Here's a couple of tips. Give him all you've got, but not all at once. You dance with him, he's going to make you look good. Don't resort to cheap tricks, because he doesn't have the patience for it. Political or social issues? Don't bother. He's spent his life avoiding those jabs. And more than anything else, accept that you aren't going to win. The closest thing you have to a decision in this match is how he's going to put you down.

Remember Carson is Mr. Sandman. Not the video game character, but in real life. For thirty years and over four and a half thousand shows, he put America to bed. You're not going to be any different; you just decide if you want to be carried off the stage in a stretcher or invited over to the couch where he can tuck you in gently. Johnny Carson was the master, not because he had the sharpest wit or the fastest tongue, but because he trained himself to be ready for anything and everything. There will never be another Johnny Carson.

May the angels bring him the joy he brought to us.

The Carousel: Paradise Restructured

I finished up April's Camp Nanowrimo last week and I wanted to post a little bit from my 20,000 word goal. My book is a neverending work in progress, but progress is being made (albeit at the pace of escargot).

The powerboat may not have looked like much, but the waves certainly bowed to its force. The ocean was in an unpleasant mood and the eight passenger speedboat pierced through their seven foot protests as if they were nothing more than nuisances.

The anonymous driver, if he even had a name, did only what the parameters of his job dictated. He drove.

The only other two occupants were Margot, the ‘hospitality’ manager, and Elton, the outside resource that Margot was less than pleased to have to be dealing with.

Elton took in the sights of the waves like an older child might, feeling the exhilaration of their marvel but refusing to let on too much as to their effect on him. He smiled at Margot. She didn’t return it.

“My first time on the island,” he said.

Margot didn’t even give him a courtesy nod. The Church of Progression had always upheld the highest level of autonomy, and the fact that Max Finchley had brought in this outsider was confusing. It wasn’t her place to question him, only to withhold the feeling of insult she experienced in Elon’s presence.

“So, Margot-”

“Miss Lambert,” she corrected him.

“Margot,” Elton repeated with much less joviality. “Didn’t Max tell you that I’m not part of your little cult?”

“Mr. Finchley informs me of everything.”

“Sure he does.” Elton’s smile returned. “I’m quite certain he’s brought me on board because everything is running so smoothly.” He let his comment sift for a bit, daring Margot to challenge it. He continued when she didn’t. “Tell me about the pet.”

“It’s unimportant.”

“Really? I’m under the impression that your research and development is based entirely around her biology.”

“Mr. Graves, is advancement in your line of work built around impressions?”

“I’m sorry. When I say I’m under the impression, I mean I know what I’m talking about.” He leaned forward. “Do you know what you’re talking about, Margot?”

She glared at him but didn’t say anything.

“An energy rift appears off the coast of Eleison. Records date it as far back as 1938 when the island was called Yutakana. In 1978, a research vessel found a fungus growing on Eleison, which at that point was called ‘some island’. The notes claim that the fungus didn’t behave the way fungus was expected to behave, although any information going into details has been lost or destroyed. You know what I find funny about that?”

Margot stared out the nearest window. “No.”

“It’s the fact that fungus is expected to ‘behave’ a particular way. I mean, if I were to ask you to do an impression of fungus-”

A massive wave struck the side of the powerboat. Margot barely felt or noticed it.

“Exactly.” Elton grinned. Margot shot him a glance. “So in 1984 the rift was rediscovered- are you going to be writing any of this down?”

“What is your point Mr. Graves?”

“It’s been my experience that things blow up when children start playing with science they don’t understand.”

Margot huffed the word ‘science’ like it was an obscenity.

“Not much of a believer in myths such as evidence I see.”

“Mr. Graves,” Margot gave him a trained pageant smile which was undermined by the bitterness in her eyes. “I say this with all of God’s love. You can go to Hell.”

Elton looked up at the island that was only a few minutes away. “Well, we are about to dock.”

It was another hour’s drive to the Governor’s house from the beach. Elton and Margot rode in the back seat of a transport vehicle, each shifting periodically to alleviate the boredom.

“Incoming call Miss,” came the voice of the chauffeur through the intercom.

“Go ahead,” instructed Margot.

There was a crackle, followed by a female voice. “There’s been another suicide.”

Margot rolled her eyes. “That’s the third one this week. What’s the damage?”

“Bent fender and a punctured tire.”

“Sweepers?”

“No miss. The car drove off the road.”

“Send an assessment unit to see what’s salvageable. What exactly happened?”

“The driver was a Mr. Frank T. Hutchinson from Missouri. Former online stockbroker. He swerved to miss a Green Ramrod and wrecked.”

Margot sighed. “Witnesses?”

“Just locals.”

“Okay, chalk it to poor driving and get rid of the corpse.”

“Well, there’s a problem. He threw himself in front of the monorail.”

“Great. Where is the body?”

“Um, the bulk of it still appears to be on the nose.”

“Son of- All right, divert it to Terminal E and hose him off. Family?”

“Just a nineteen year old daughter.”

“Find out what Mr. Hutchinson was worth before his blaze of glory and feed that into her account and send her Mr. Finchley’s condolences. Then figure out who the driver of the Ramrod was and take it out of their assets.”

“Should I have the car taken away?”

“No, let me know who it is first.”

“Taken care of.” And the voice crackled out.

Margot rubbed her eyes. “Everyone is such a primadonna.”

Elton gave her a side smile that she didn’t notice.

The car pulled in front of the Governor’s house. Margot picked up the black metal briefcase from under her seat and exited the vehicle, followed by Elton. The Governor’s house sat on a steep hill surrounded by trees. The first level had been built directly into the rock and was now serving as a basement. The remaining two stories were made of wood, giving it the appearance of a cabin with a balcony to look down on the city below; also named Eleison.

Margot reminded Elton not to speak until he was spoken to. He made her no promises. She brushed his smugness off and led the way through the front door.

The inside was an open area with a grand piano right in front of them. To their left stretched a long staircase that curved up to the balcony and a few rooms above. The front area connected to a large kitchen at the far end opposite the front door with a few doors dotting the walls on both sides.

In terms of cleanliness, the place was nearly spotless; no trace of dust anywhere. It made the small collection of broken bottles and glasses on the kitchen floor all the more conspicuous. A huge fire roared at the front of the room with what looked like the charred remains of carved wood instead of logs smoking.

For a few seconds the house gave off the impression of being empty. Margot flinched when the sound of something striking something else cracked the silence. She waited. It came again. Not wanting to let her discomfort show in front of Elton, she drew in a breath and started for the steps down into the basement.

Editorial: Why Maleficent is Disney's Alpha Female

I'm still involved in Camp Nanowrimo this month and preparing for our library's Sci-fi/Fantasy Festival at the end of July. And because of these ongoing projects I'm learning that I have a finite amount of creative energy, hence the series of opinion blogs this month.

But as Kingdom Hearts III is on the horizon (not ours, maybe Trenzalore has at least gotten a new screenshot) I thought it might be fitting to examine Disney's undisputed Mistress of all Evil, Maleficent. And like all retrospectives, we regrettably have to go back to the beginning. Just bear with me.

The Original Fairy Tale

Dear God in Heaven, have you ever tried to follow the original fairy tale? Or the one that was more original than that? Or the first one? As best as we know, the earliest template of the classic tale comes from an early fourteenth century French book series of romantic prose with interludes of poetry called Perceforest. In here we have the tale of Troilus who rapes the beautiful Zellandine while she's in a coma. She gives birth without waking.

In 1634, Itallian poet Giambattista Basile's tale Sun, Moon, and Talia was published two years after his death. Talia is accidentally pricked by a splinter of flax and falls into a deathlike coma. Talia's father decides she's too beautiful to bury and leaves her on display in one of his townhouses. One day a king happens upon her and tries unsuccessfully to wake her. But so overcome by her beauty, he carries her to a bed and "gathered the first fruits of love"; which, as I regret having to point out, is a flowery way of saying rape (this theme is going to keep popping up). Talia gives birth to twins. The king's wife is furious. She tries to go full (not Tyler Perry's) Madea on Talia and her children and have them murdered. When that fails, the king has his wife burned to death, marries Talia, and they live happily ever after.

Two versions and there's still no sign of Maleficent (or her rough draft), but the issues raised by feminist analyses of the Disney version are clearly on display here. The story's 'Beauty' by whatever name she's given is nothing more than an object. In the Basile version, the king's wife is punished for being outraged by her husband's infidelity, whereas the king is treated as if he's the hero of the piece.

I'm not a historian, but my gut tells me that the actions of Troilus and the king were not thought of as objectionable by their respective audiences or authors. Given the history of the way women have been viewed in society, I wonder if anybody even considered that 'Beauty' might have liked some say in what was done to her body. But we'll be seeing more of this topic as we go, so for now let's move on.

The Charles Perrault version is the one Disney seemed to turn to for inspiration. The newborn gets cursed by an old fairy who had resided in a tower for so long that everyone thought she was dead. After six of seven fairy godmothers grant the child gifts of beauty, happiness, rhythm, health, a new car and a college fund, the old fairy loses it. She decides that the candle that burns the brightest should in fact burn shorter (she kind of has a point), and thus the whole spindle thing. You know the rest. Although there is a second act that goes all over the place with an ogre mom and some crap about a pit of vipers; making this the medieval equivalent of Abbey Road's side B.

For all of its shortcomings (and there are many) the Perrault version at least provides a credible motivation for Maleficent's understudy. One of the great fears of the elderly is being forgotten and left to die on their own. Perrault may not show the old fairy much sympathy, but her anger clearly comes from a place of pain. This element may not have been intended by Perrault, and I certainly don't think Walt Disney intended to work it in either, but the echo of pain possibly found it's way into Maleficent's character anyway.

The Disney Version

I tackled this era pretty thoroughly two years ago, but here's the highlights. Maleficent was kind of a hybrid of the two main female villains before her, Queen Grimhilde and Lady Tremaine (sharing her voice actress and model with the latter). She seemed to take the best traits of both, combining the Queen's above-the-law selfishness with the stepmother's patient seething. This film has the unique and instantly iconic dragon transformation preceded by a rare Disney use of the word 'Hell' that nobody has been able to top.

The film has its flaws, mainly any scene that doesn't involve Maleficent. But more so is a bit of character inconsistency that encourages discussion. What exactly was she so pissed about? The official reason is that she wasn't invited to Aurora's christening, but nobody is buying that. This Maleficent is too...grounded to care about something that trivial. Disney left us an unanswered mystery which was probably an error in judgment from the studio, but Audley enough (see what I did there?) it invites the audience into her psyche in a way very few villains do.

One of the reasons Maleficent has such a strong fan base is that everything about her reads as wishing to be understood. Not waiting around for it to happen of course. But one can't help but wonder if there was a deeper conflict with Maleficent that could have been resolved through respect and diplomacy.

Going back to the feminist analysis, Sleeping Beauty provides a dichotomy between Aurora and Maleficent that easily represents a problematic trope regarding the way male film makers portray female characters. Aurora is 'good'. She's also young, passive, powerless, harmless, and beautiful. Maleficent is 'evil'. She's also old, proactive, powerful, destructive, and...you know, let's look at beauty for a moment.

Yes, Maleficent has the traditional face associated with witches but that doesn't exactly disqualify her as beautiful, it only provides a context for beauty that our view on Aurora takes for granted. Maleficent is elegant. Like so many Disney villains, she has a natural charisma. The sheer power and dominance she exhibits all feed into a different kind of beauty. Aurora is beautiful, but quite a lot of what makes her so is the lack of tarnish by any qualities that would detract from her virginal innocence. You could almost say she's beautiful because of what she isn't; most accessibly, she's not Maleficent.

Fun digression: when I worked at Disney World, there were very few Auroras. Cinderellas were everywhere because it was her castle, and her rags to riches story is exactly what Disney wants little girls to buy into. So if you happened to be chosen to portray Aurora in her rare appearances, you were most likely also playing Cinderella some of the time. I once asked an Aurora how she, as a performer, distinguished between the two. She told me that for her, Cinderella was the peasant girl who always believed she was a princess deep down inside. So her interactions with children were very princess-centric. "Oh, you've been to my castle show! Have you met my fairy godmother?" Aurora never thought about princesses until she was thrust into the role. As such, her interactions were less about herself and more about them. "Do you have something fun planned today? Really, EPCOT. What's that?" I always thought that was brilliant considering Aurora's character gives you so little to work with.

The Kingdom Hearts Version

I was so glad to see Disney place Maleficent in the foreground of the Kingdom Hearts series. If we're talking sheer power in the Disney canon, Hades is a god and Chernabog is the embodiment of darkness. But Maleficent is correctly selected as the most active member of the villain's unit to work with/against Organization XIII.

And why is that? Because most of the villains are limited in their scope and use. It makes no sense to have Jafar wandering around Halloween Town, or Captain Hook popping into Wonderland. Maleficent has versatility. She can interact with just about any character and still feel like herself. And when you place her in a grander scope world than Aurora's story, Maleficent almost starts to resemble a protagonist. Hell, in Kingdom Hearts II, she and lackey Pete make a sacrifice that comes across as from-a-certain-point-of-view heroic.

The Once Upon a Time Version

I did not like Kristin Bauer van Straten's portrayal of Maleficent in the show's first season for two reasons. One, she was a throwaway character, and Maleficent deserves better. Two, no way some apple polisher is going to get the better of a freaking dragon. But, you know, the series evolved.

Season four was where van Straten got to shine (and the series peaked). Here we got to see Maleficent as a mother. And my God did van Straten play the most complex version of Maleficent to date! She actually tries to reason with Snow White and Prince Charming. Once Upon a Time has been more hit than miss regarding its adaptations, but they knocked it out of the park with Maleficent. She's not evil, she's hurting. If there's any character arc worthy of a spinoff, it's the dragon lady.

Maleficent

Angelina Jolie is a fantastic actress, but I was not pleased when I heard she was cast as Maleficent. My concern was that she would be playing herself in the role, the way she did with Lara Croft. I was thankfully proven wrong. The movie was far from perfect, but damn if Jolie didn't get the essence of the character down.

The filmmakers have all but confirmed the story they told was a rape allegory; and Jolie has explicitly stated it was how she approached the role. Whether they were deliberately channeling the original fairy tales or not is unclear, but the point is we've come full circle. Except Maleficent has essentially taken the bullet for Sleeping Beauty.

As a man, one thing that really gets under my skin is hearing other men gripe about 'feminist propaganda'. We live in a patriarch society that we have created to be a patriarch. We don't experience that society as the non-favored gender. And any man who is so quick to reduce something to a dismissive label is saying "I can't be bothered to even try listening". The world is changing. Maybe not as much as I thought (#notmypresident), but it is changing and will continue to. And in the meantime, a movie like Maleficent serves a vital purpose in helping us understand a horrible experience that happens to so many people so very often.

Conclusion

In the end it's not to suggest that Maleficent is destined to be a purely feminist icon. More accurately, she has the flexibility of character to be whatever she needs to be to whoever she needs to be it for. Good versus evil is a story that has been told to death. That grey area in between has so many possibilities, and it seems to be the direction our stories are going.

The strength of Maleficent in the classic film is that we're not clear why she's evil. And as we revisit her further and further away from it, we begin to wonder if she really is evil at all. Yes, she calls herself the Mistress of All Evil, but that could mean anything. It could mean she is born out of evil, or has dwelled within it so long that she has become its guiding force. Or perhaps it's a label that was given to her that she now wears proudly like a scarlet letter 'A'. In my Disney fan fiction series, I approach it as if Maleficent is a dam controller responsible for holding evil back, and having to decide when to release the floodgate and in what dosage.

My sense is that our dragon lady is only getting warmed up. Now that Maleficent portrayed her as the protagonist, I hope this affects the way Kingdom Hearts thinks about her. She's the only villain in the game series that has any claim on being a playable character. And damn it, she's earned it.

So what makes her Disney's alpha female? You know, I really have no idea. It may not be something that can be reduced to a simple statement. But probably more than any other character in the studio's history, Maleficent represents the tip of an undiscovered iceberg. And that by itself means she's at least a step ahead of the rest of us.

Editorial: How the Odyssey2 Created Magic

What could be more fun than a stroll down Nostalgia Avenue? Alone? At night? With a dead car battery and no cell phone? I don't know why you'd be carrying a dead car battery, but put it down and let's talk video games.

Our species is one of narrative. It's in our nature to weave stories; given any two variables and we'll certainly draw a connection between them regardless of how absurd. I mention this because I'm a child of the seventies and a teen of the eighties, and my personal development quite coincidentally mirrors that of video game history, and I think I've got some old war hero stories for you.

My family didn't have the Atari 2600, or as we called it back then "Atari". We invested in the Magnavox Odyssey2, known today as that thing that was on the market back then that wasn't the Intellivison. Much like many Nintendo systems that followed, the Odyssey suffered from the lack of third party support. As such, you could conceivably collect the whole set of 56 games on 46 cartridges if you didn't mind owning a lot of trash (kind of like baseball cards).

You may not have experienced the 8-bit era yourself, but you've no doubt seen images. That paints a pretty accurate picture of what we were playing; hardly jaw dropping even by our primitive standards. But we weren't concerned about jaw dropping graphics. We were captivated by the fact that we could control what we were seeing on our TV screens! I don't even think remote controls had been invented yet.

And the Odyssey2 had some gems, games with rudimentary layouts that you could inadvertently sacrifice hours of your life on. Fun fact: in my mid twenties I dusted off the old Magnavox and inadvertently sacrificed hours of my life on it. In other words, they got some real mileage out of the minimalistic tools at their disposal.

So I wanted to take some time out of my busy schedule to honor some of the unsung classics that never achieved 'giant' status but certainly belong in a museum.

Computer Golf!

If there are ever two words undeserving of an exclamation point when put together, it's these. There wasn't much that stood out about this game, but it gives me a chance to mention a few important specs. The Odyssey2 had two primary sources of input from the user; a pair of single button joysticks, and a qwerty keyboard for educational games (yeah, that tried to happen even the late seventies). Hence the 'computer' in the title.

The golfer was an all purpose character I refer to as Sprite Guy. If you've played the original Donkey Kong Country on the SNES, Cranky mentions having to deal with a two sprite walk back in his day. Sprite Guy is who he's referring to. Sprite Guy was perpetually frozen in profile with his (what passed for) arms held out like a zombie. The only thing that change was his legs that would move apart every alternate frame to create the illusion of running or standing as need be.

Sprite Guy was the William H. Macy of 8-bit games. He could appear in any context and play whatever role was needed. And in Computer Golf! he had the distinction of being a much shorter tempered golfer than his Atari counterpart (which Odyssey had blatantly ripped off). Bounce your ball off a 'tree' and Sprite Guy would strike the ground repeatedly with his club in an unsportsmanlike manner. It was a little thing, just a touch of humor from the faceless developers, but it was one of the earliest examples of a game character with personality that would become so important down the road.

Smithereens!

This one required two players. On each side of the screen is a medieval tower (if you kind of squint), and behind each tower is a Sprite Guy with a catapult about half his size. There is also a moat right in the middle of the screen. The object is to pull your joystick away from your target and release it with careful timing to hit your opponent's tower. Too soon and you land in the moat. Too late and you miss wildly, or with a bit of luck might hit your opponent's catapult or your opponent, putting both temporarily out of commission. You can, and will, accidentally destroy your own tower.

Now I want you to think about how simple of a setup that is. This- was our Super Smash Brothers. Carnage, bloodless violence, skill, and a bit of randomness; we were entertained for hours. But the fun didn't stop there, because we had the added layer of "The Voice", a hardware add-on that is probably owed some residuals from Adam Levine and Blake Shelton.

I saved up my own allowance money to throw down seventy bucks on this upgrade, but it was so worth it. "The Voice" provided artificial speech for several Odyssey2 games, and for Smithereens! it was a running commentary from an outside observer. Hit the moat and you were treated to a man mimicking a splashing sound or drowning "Gl-l-l-l". Launch your rock off screen? "Come on turkey, hit it!" Take a boulder to the face? "Ouch! Help!" The game was inherently funny, and "The Voice" acknowledged that the game knew it. Back then, that was called innovation.

K.C. Munchkin!/K.C.'s Krazy Chase!

I mentioned this little guy in my Pac-Man blog a while back. K.C. Munchkin was Pac-Man with a happy face and antennae. Atari had exclusive rights to port Pac-Man to home consoles (and dear lord did they screw it up) while Magnavox beat them to the market with an obvious knock-off that was superior in every way to what Atari gave us. In the end the courts unfairly ruled against K.C. I mean, sure, the intellectual property was appropriated, but it's no different Mr. Pibb taking the Dr. pepper concept or Disney reworking Kimba the White Lion.

The coolest element of K.C. was the level editor, which you could design using the keyboard. I was prone to building a single tunnel that linked all the munchies linearly while the munchers were given the rest of the negative space to wander aimlessly in. Power gaming at it's finest! It was only through glitches that I'm not still playing my masterpiece today.

Krazy Chase gave us the Draterpillar as the antagonist as kind of K.C.'s F.U. to Atari's Centipede (and no, I didn't plan out that anagram). The "Voice" guy is back, but he's less MST and more softball bleachers dad. "Run!" "Hurry!" "Watch out!" Um, thanks, I can figure the threats out myself. But even if the overall quality of the sequel had ebbed, the little guy himself was a trip. If Pac-Man was William Hartnell, K.C. Munchkin was Patrick Troughton. Just, you know, awesome. Hey, speaking of timelords...

Attack of the Timelord!

Right behind Galaga, this is the greatest Space Invaders styled game ever created. You only have a fleet of eight ships to shoot down in each level but those punks can move! They snake around the screen frantically, only getting dispersed if you happen to hit the lead ship.

But strangely enough, you're given better rewards for shooting down their incoming missiles than in taking out the armada. It starts easy enough with a cluster of three white darts that rain straight down. But level two introduces the red dot homing missile that doesn't quite line up with your laser blast. Round three gives the green x's that land and then roll about a fifth of the screens length in your direction; you don't want to be in the corners anymore. Although if you really want to feel like a daredevil, slide your ship under them at the last possible second to confuse their tracking, they'll roll a little in the wrong direction before adjusting. Last and certainly the most high score inducing are the purple diamonds that behave like homing missiles on a caffeine binge.

Now if obliterating half a box of Lucky Charms isn't interesting enough for you, there's the character of the Time Lord, who appears before each stage to mock you (or just gnash his teeth if you didn't buy "The Voice"). "Defend your world!" he challenges you. "Goodbye earthling!" he threatens (either to destroy you or leave Facebook). And my personal favorite that I know I'm not hearing correctly, "Mop-head human!" Who you calling mop-head, laser breath? But when you get to the fourth stage, an odd thing happens. Old laser breath starts respecting you. "You're a worthy opponent!" With the full understanding that at some point you're going to eventually lose (these games didn't have victory endings) that's kind of a feel good way to watch your home world perish.

Monkeyshines!

Sprite Guy is back! And he's...okay how do I explain this? You and your buddy are zookeepers, maybe? Some fairly versatile yellow monkeys are loose. And it's up to you pick them up and throw them. And then they get pissed, turn red, and try to beat you into paralysis. I have no idea, maybe this was a long lost gladiator game?

So, yeah, that sounds pretty stupid, but damn if it wasn't something special. The monkeys had minds of their own, four in all. They would dance, laugh at you, hang from bars over head, typical monkey stuff. You wouldn't actually pick them up so much a you would let them crawl on you and then start jumping in place to keep them on you. This game would never be made today.

So what we did was use the real time level editor to take overhead bars away from the monkeys while they were on them to eventually get all four to fall on the same hopping Sprite Guy. Then we'd build an escape route for the second guy and minimize the monkeys' access to where he was hiding. Then we'd let hopping Sprite Guy rack up as many points as possible by throwing all four monkeys downwards and holding the button. This caused four angry monkeys to bounce off the ground and back into Sprite Guy who would keep taking advantage of the glitch as-he-was-dying. The second Sprite Guy then spent a few suspenseful minutes trying to avoid four hostile monkeys who took this act personally for some reason. Then repeat with the survivor. It was the single most awesome suicide pact, and I'm certain the Sprite Guys shared a plot with only their high score on the headstone.

Take the Money and Run!

You know I've counted five Odyssey2 games in total that don't feel the need to emphasize their thrills with an exclamation point. Some of my personal favorites purely by title are Keyboard Creations! Pocket Billiards! Turtles! and one I've actually played, Pachinko! which really does live up to it's self-hype.

This is a two player game, but for a change Sprite Guy is your antagonist(s). You and your friend are playing a pair of characters affectionately named Lumbering Oaf Man, or Lom. You're in a randomly generated K.C. Munchkin-esc maze designed for Sprite Guy. Lom is two and a half times the size of Sprite Guy, which means you're going to be hitting your head.

Fortunately the joystick's button allows you to duck, which slows your movement some but gets you through tight spots. The object is to get money, a life's lesson for us all. When Sprite Guy is white, it means he's worth money. The amount he's worth runs down like a timer, and he starts off very fast but gradually slows to a crawl. When Sprite Guy is pink, the opposite happens. he represents income tax. Here he starts out slowly with the higher amounts but gets faster and greedier as the counter goes down.

That's pretty much the intended game play, but there were a few quirks that made this game really special. One was learning the algorithms. Tax collector Sprite Guys would often get stuck running in loops that could protect you. And glitches. If you pressed Lom against the wall in a lower corner you could make him vibrate, which had the inconsistent advantage of tax collector Sprite Guy not actually being able to reach into his pocket. This same glitch could be used in a few other creative ways, like hitting the wall and moving slightly up or down would cause Lom to slowly creep the wall in the opposite direction. Player one could actually slip into the money counter area where Sprite Guys couldn't go. I can think of few childhood experiences more frustrating than me straining my hand muscles trying to avoid my tax collector while my buddy casually wandered around in the safe zone singing "I'm in the money."

But the best element of all was the way Lom moved. He had at least a four frame walk (a luxury) where his arms swung freely. The guy just looked groovy as he roamed. And there was a sadistic delight to be had positioning him under a low bar and watching his head get batted over and over. Lom may have been the first video game doofus; just so inherently laid back you couldn't help but love him.


So that's my memory lane jog; old school stuff, but true gems. Although if you're familiar at all with the Odyssey2 library you may have noticed a curious omission from the games I've discussed. And yes, there is one more game that I believe is the actual diamond of the whole system. I was going to include it here, but this blog got a bit longer than I'd planned, and I feel it deserves a bit more attention than I can give it right now. So be on the lookout sometime in the future for a retrospective on dungeon crawls. Until then, always make time for play.

Shows in Need of a Reboot: Snarfquest

One thing right out of the gate: no, this was never a show. I've just had quite a bit of success with my previous blog Shows in Need of a Reboot: Ranma 1/2 that I'm less than compelled to mess with the formula.

In the mid 1980's (essentially the time period where nerd culture developed its autonomy) Dungeons and Dragons was experiencing the apex of its alternative-to-mainstream identity, complete with a Saturday morning cartoon; that's when you knew you'd made it. This was also a golden period for magazines. Movies were being released at a manageable enough pace for the satires of MAD to stay fresh. Will Shortz's creation GAMES was deconstructing common magazine facets in the name of puzzle solving. And at the heart and hub of every role player's connection to a perceived community of passionate clerics and paladins was Dragon.

Dragon magazine was D&D's expansion pack, fleshing out new monsters, character classes, fiction, even new approaches to playing the game. The artwork was magnificent and the adventures that were semi-regularly published rivaled many of the official modules of the time. And if you didn't connect with anything else in a particular issue, you could always rely on the final couple of pages to justify your continued subscription.

For three reasons. One, "Dragonmirth", a series of (usually) single paneled comics related to fantasy gaming; conceivably a precursor to The Far Side. Two, "Wormy", a better-than-it-ever-needed-to-be exploration of D&D's most famous members of the Monster Manual and what their private lives might consist of. "Wormy" was abruptly discontinued mid story arc(s) when artist David Trampier left TSR (the circumstances of which will likely remain a mystery) and went into seclusion until his death in 2014. Three (and this is what all this has been leading up to), "Snarfquest".

Larry Elmore is one of fantasy's most recognizable artists. If you've ever been to a gaming convention or browsed through D&D books at the bookstore, you've undoubtedly come across his work. And once you have a passing familiarity with Elmore's style you can naturally single his drawings out from a lineup. It's not that his work is deliberately distinctive, most fantasy artwork tends to conform to a certain visual vocabulary, but a Larry Elmore piece just has a certain beat to it that I'm sure someone smarter than me could explain. I don't know of any other artist who can capture that ~pause~; it's a moment where something life-changing has either just happened or is just about to, and the whole story is reflected in the central figure's expression and demeanor. Suffice to say, Elmore's artwork has graced many a cover of Dragon.

"Snarfquest" was a chance for Elmore to relax a little and presumably have a bit of fun. The serial ran for several years in the mid-eighties until Elmore admitted (in-universe no less) to simply not having the time or strength to continue it amidst the rest of his professional obligations. But I say "Snarfquest" is a real gem that deserves to be reworked into a (probably animated) series; maybe Bruce Timm's interested? Let me explain why.

The comic series

Snarf is a Zeetvah (Google it), with an anteater-like snout, bat-winged ears, and a personality kind of akin to Daffy Duck if he weren't corrupted by Hollywood. After the death of his village's king, it's decreed that any Zeetvah can lay claim to the throne, with the ruler selected based on how much treasure and/or heroic deeds he or she can acquire over the following year. So Snarf sets out on his titular quest and meets a colorful cast of characters based on, and pushing against, your typical fantasy quest tropes.

What works

It's a great premise for one thing. Treasure for the sake of it was an instant cliché whenever the first story of greed was written down, but treasure for a higher goal is engaging. Despite the fact that Snarf starts off a bit on the amoral side you can't help but root for him. He's inexperienced and prone to attracting challenges beyond his skillset, but you have to admire the 'I can't believe that actually worked' methods he uses to overcome them.

Larry Elmore's drawing style is wonderful. The characters are incredibly expressive, and many panels are laugh out loud funny with or without the dialogue included. "Snarfquest" has been favorably compared to Jeff Smith's "Bone"; and I totally get it, but I see a bit more Bill Watterson in it (or "Snarfquest" in "Calvin and Hobbes").

Also a lot of the characters draw you in. Pick a favorite: Prince Raffendorf (a one-eyed human turned into a giant rat), the evil time-jumping wizard Suthaze (whose introduction involves teleporting into his tower while riding a motorcycle), Willie (the dragon who believes he's a duck), Leech (the in-house voice of MST3K), or Aveeare (a stranded robot from the future who nearly usurps Snarf as the series protagonist). And then there's Telerie who I'll be saying more about shortly. For now just remember her name (no, I don't know which syllable is supposed to be emphasized). Even Dorque da Wanderer left a bit of a smile on my face.

What doesn't work

I obviously don't have access to Larry Elmore's brain, but based on the way the narrative plays out I imagine he was kind of making it up as he went. This gives the story a really nice unpredictable quality but it also leads to some inescapable rough spots. Side characters appear out of nowhere and are unceremoniously dropped. Certain obstacles that have a buildup are suddenly deemed irrelevant. And there's the fate of spaceship pilot Fred which never sat well with me.

The 'Snarf who would be king' arc wraps up in what could be considered Act One. Act Two involves Snarf and Telerie time traveling to Aveeare's period (the future) for significantly weaker motivations where they encounter a new cast of characters that don't really add up to much. In fact there was only one really memorable scene in Act Two that managed to uncover what the story was really about.

In other words, it's a good story overall, but the great characters and ideas of the first act are just begging to be better. They demand a finesse that Larry Elmore truly couldn't afford to give them the first time around. And not that I have any sway with anyone who could do anything about it, but Snarf and company are at least calling to me to open up a discussion about them.

What would I revise?

Two words. Telerie Windyarm; a surname ridiculous even by fantasy standards. Telerie is a competent warrior. When she first meets Snarf she's at the presumed end of her own offscreen adventure. I originally thought she had no backstory until I went and looked it up. It turns out she has a rich backstory that gets waved away in a few sentences (something about a stolen sword, her father, and a betrayal by Suthaze's more powerful but less interesting expy Whats-his-face the Grumpy).

Telerie quite accurately resembled a lot of the exercise models of the eighties, in build and hair. Funny looking Snarf was pretty easy for the average nerd (mostly presumed to be male) of the time period to see themselves reflected in. The relationship between these two characters is ultimately what Snarfquest is about, even if Elmore himself hadn't planned it that way.

So in the revision, Telerie needs to be front and center from the get go in her own fleshed out quest running concurrently with Snarf's. It would be through Telerie we would understand the structure of the world in which Snarfquest takes place, i.e. the hierarchy of races and classes, and how the fantasy 'rules' apply. Then through Snarf we see how difficult for someone on the low end of the totem pole to muddle through the world. Snarf is at his best when he's a step behind, while Telerie is usually a step ahead.

It was at the romantic angle between Snarf and Telerie where Elmore excelled, mainly because it wasn't simply a case of opposites attracting. Telerie believed in Snarf before he believed in himself, but his motivation to live up to the way she perceived him actually made him better. But Telerie's draw to Snarf was implied a lot more than explored, and it's here that the story deserves some intentional choices.

The fantasy world no doubt views Snarf as beneath Telerie's station, and even Telerie demonstrates a discomfort at saying the L-word, at least until Act two when she thinks he's been killed (arguably the best couple of panels in the whole series). Her initial pleasantness towards him is similar to that of a pageant contestant who is trained to exude congeniality combined with the way people react to hounds that are just so cute. But she also sees who he is when his back is to the wall, which may have an honesty that most people she deals with don't show. The changes in both of them are gradual, but in the end it's realized that the 'quest' of the title isn't about becoming king or reclaiming treasure but finding the life that matters to you.

Every character is judged based on believability. Good characters feel real. Great characters feel metaphorical. Snarf and Telerie are good characters with a potential for greatness when they're together. Elmore did a good job, especially considering he was making it up as he went. But the adventure just calls for a revision to help it achieve greatness. Keep the characters that work, even if only sporadically. Lose the ones that don't (B. B. Bird was a waste of space). And always keep the characters driving the story.