Charles

I don't highly recommend this game according to what I've been told. Unfortunately, while these exciting new features you mentioned are apparent towards the start of the game, they slowly disappear later on. What you're left with in the end is almost a rehash of the original. Since I found the first Onimusha to be overrated, to the point where I sold it, I would classify the sequal as a rental at best.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by SuruBlu [/i] [B]ok, i finished off Malificent, and got the navi G peice, my question is, is it worth going back to all the worlds, I mean is there anything important there? If this is how you get the -aga line then please let me know [/B][/QUOTE] Well, I feel that it is. Revisiting other worlds is necessary if you wish to acquire all of the Dalmatian puppies. Furthermore, if you're interested in collecting every page for the 100 Acre Woods, rare synthesis items or valuable Gummi parts, then I would consider revisiting. Definitely be sure to revisit the Coliseum when Chip N' Dale mention the start of the more difficult tournaments. Until then, it's worthwhile to float around for the mere purpose of leveling up.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by AnimeLover [/i] [B][color=red] I'm talking if we were to be taken away of our intellect completly. Say only to the intellect of a dog (not that I hate dogs). A dog goes about life living it, not caring about such trivial matters, nor knowing what existence is. Thus it would never actually know that it exists. Nor would it care.[/color] [/B][/QUOTE] I disagree with that. Dogs know of existence because they are a living being and their primary function is survival. So, they have to possess some knowledge that they exist in the first place. Granted, they are instinctual rather than intellectual, but I can't help but to believe that they have some grasp on existence. [Quote][b]The Sims exist, of course! They are seen by you, they cause interactions amongst themselves, they are discussed on this forum. Does this world exist? For all of the members of this world, for all practical purposes yes. People in my dream exist in my dream; they cause others to be affected by them - others withing the dream, and all who notice the dream (normally just me). Does this world exist? We cause things to happen in this world. Therefore, we exist within the realm of this world. It is irrelevant whether or not we exist within another realm - that requires the existence or realms to be demonstrated.[/Quote][/B] The Sims do exist--as an object. There is no they. The characters on screen aren't molecules, but pixels existing on a program in which they carry out artificially implemented actions and patterns. Because they do not breathe, possess vision, hear, or have the abilities to feel or think for themselves, "they" can't be defined as living. So, it's impossible for you to seriously distinguish them as separate existing organisms. But, like I said, as an object, a video game in this case, they surely do exist to us. The fictional characters in The Sims do not exist in another dimension or world. Nor do your dreams. Dreams are merely a result of your mind remaining active when your body is not. There are no people in your dreams--only visions. These visions can't affect one another because they're shadows of your psyche. By classifying dreams as existing, you're saying that a mirage exists when in actually, it does not.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Raiha [/i] [B][COLOR=seagreen]My take on the dictionary, my dear CWB, is simply to check your spelling. And it's also a way to learn new words in the process. If you wanted to use your own voice...you might as well spell the words right.[/COLOR] [/B][/QUOTE] :o Well, yeah, you have a point there, lol. :blushes nervously: But, I don't think that it's [I]wrong[/I] to use one. It's just kind of wrong to overuse it. Like, some people just try to pull out the craziest words and instead of coming up with good writing, they get nonsense. Yep, using it to check spelling is cool though. I carry my little Webster around with me in my book bag. ^_^;;;

I suppose that I'm pretty good. I actually disagree with using a dictionary though. Reason being, it's better to use your own voice. If you rely on a thesaurus or a dictionary, your writing might sound forced or awkward. A good role-player has good grammar and spelling, along with imagination. It's important that the writing is real, reasonable and concise. That much allows us to understand it. But, if it's not creative, then what's the point? As mentioned, people should respect other peoples' characters. Quite simply, I feel that using someone else's character correctly, is as important as using my own correctly. Length is also an issue. If someone doesn't doesn't find their post important enough to put proper work into, then why should I find it important enough to read? Also, a good trait is sticking around and partcipating in games that you've signed up for. Building a reputation for dropping out of games is lethal, lol. Humor is always a useful asset. At least in my opinion it is. But, it's a tricky thing. One can't cross the boundaries and become [I]too[/I] far fetched, or the humor just becomes silly and annoying. Lastly, using images and varying colors are useful in role-playing. For instance, my Project Gamer sign-up page was pretty long. So, I used images and colors to spice it up. The same goes for certain posts. It makes writing come alive and jump up at you.

If I knew that it was something like that, I would have never clicked the link, lol. I was expecting a joke or something. Those pop-up things are tasteless and old. :p Thank goodness I knew that you could use the space bar to get rid of it quickly. ~_^

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Amphion [/i] [B]I agrea somewhat with what CWB said, but I disagrea with the article he mentioned. Based on that article, nothing exists to a Blind person. [/B][/QUOTE] Based on sight yes. But, that was a small example. Let's broaden it. Take away the senses of touch, sight, and sound. Not much exists at that point. Of course, people still exist, but not in the case of that particular person.

Well, think about it. We can't see certain lengths and light waves, so certain objects appear to us as they are displayed by our imagination. Cats and dogs supposedly see things differently than us, as do other species. So, what we do know of, and [I]think[/I] exists, doesn't really as we know it. In the end, I feel that the answer to our existence lies in the expression, "If a tree falls and no one's around to hear it..." Well, if we base our existence on such senses, many of us don't exist to one another. There are species of fish and insect on this earth that don't exist [I]because we haven't found them.[/I] So, if there is life beyond this planet, we don't exist to them, based on senses. I read this article before, and they mentioned how existence is purely optical. If we close our eyes, nothing is there, because we can't transfer light and molecules into our imagination. So, yeah, we exist to some extent, but it's hard to place definition on it.

The skyline glittered underneath the moon's watchful gaze in such a way, that it became indistinguishable from the starlight Heavens. Stray cats and dogs scattered like thieves in the night, tipping over garbage containers with reckless abandon. All was quiet save for the clattering of aluminum lids and orphan trash cans in chorus with a lone Jumpship, whooshing through the skies. "God damnit Daniel," Joanna Dark hissed in between chattering teeth. Bitter cold air filled her lungs. Pain swept through her exhausted body. Carrington gazed sympathetically at his most talented agent. Her chest heaved up and down violently as she leaned against a nearby wall. Her face was indistinguishable, hidden behind a veil of darkness, but he imagined that it was contorted with agony. Even perfection came with fatigue. "I know Joanna," he replied attempting to interject warmth and sincerity in his voice, "today hasn't been the easiest day. You have but one more task to complete and it's finished." Would it be finished? Carrington cussed underneath his breath as the words escaped his mouth. He knew that his attempt at comforting her was preposterous--a flat out lie. Joanna was no fool. She could sense his false sincerity. [B][I]Tick tock, tick tock[/I][/B] Carrington sat in a black leather chair that seemed to blend into the background that shadowed him, the darkness surrounding him seeming to cling like the silken caress of a lover to his ever mysterious presence. It defined him. His fingers steepled as if in deep contemplation over some matter; he knew that Joanna's mind was now far off. It bothered him so, where it might be. For, he knew as well as she did that in order to further contain imminent danger, she would have to get inside the mind of an individual just as evil, if not more so, than the dreaded fugitives. [B]Approximately thirty minutes later[/B] [size=1][color=green]Location: Undisclosed stronghold deep within the bowls of the Mushroom Kingdom.[/color][/size] [size=4]Subject:[color=red]Bowser[/color][/size] The bare walls were plastered with greed. Evil deeds hung in the air like a foul odor, curling about like a jungle beast, rubbing against Joanna, and finally settling at her feet. Wrinkling her nose, Joanna "Perfect" Dark, pressed on diligently. There goes gravity. There goes fatigue--human limitations. Joanna's legs told her to stop, but she dragged them along stubbornly--selfishly perhaps. It was the desire to be the best--[I]at any cost.[/I] Joanna reluctantly deposited all of her metal belongings in a small tray. Silently, she studied the handler of the tray. His face was drawn. [I]It spoke.[/I] Restless nights, fear, struggling to raise a family--the components were all there. [I]Are you okay?[/I] Yes, his face spoke more words than he ever could. He lived nervous, but he did his service. She sent them there and he watched them. [I]Hello? Ma'am?[/I] Joanna wondered who people in his field hated more: The prisoners or the people who sent them there. She jumped. He quickly withdrew his hand from her shoulder. "Long day," she muttered, pressing forward once again. [B][I]Tick tock, tick tock[/I][/B] Palms sweaty, arms heavy, Joanna caressed a small window before her, forcing a ball in her throat downwards. It crashed in the pit of her stomach, sending a rippling affect throughout her body. She wasn't scared--Perfect Dark didn't know fear. Joanna was sick. Behind a brown, leather mask, Bowser's lips curled back into a definitive demonic smile as his reptilian eyes stared their hypnotic gaze at the young woman. Bound to a standing platform, by chains and belts, slowly, and quite deliberately though it did not look as such, his right claw gently touched upon an engraving on his platform. It stood out amongst the dimly lit room--a gold sun; the emblem of the Mushroom Kingdom. "The poor excuse for a mineral," Bowser began, "was discovered by human kind. People the world over have lusted for this metal, for two reasons? one, is that it?s shiny? another is that it is rare. These two aspects make the entire concept of gold having any worth whatsoever kind of silly to think of it? but that does not stop men and women alike from doing some very horrible things to acquire gold? and some even more horrific things to keep it. Pull up your chairs Joanna? it is time for Uncle Bowser to tell a story?? "I came here to make you an offer," Joana began, but Bowser continued, seemingly ignoring her. [B][I]Tick tock, tick tock[/I][/B] Bower's form is plunged into darkness as the scene of gold behind him changes, now moving like a slide projection to an old medieval wood carving that depicts what appears to be a duke standing over a large amount of gold coins and overlooking his land. Perfect Dark rubbed her eyes. [I]Was she seeing things?[/I] On that land agony faced serfs toil under their harsh master, their backs exaggeratingly bent to the point that they seem to break from their labor. To the right of the duke were some of his courtesans, some almost looking as if they are praying to the duke upon the mountain of gold? others seeming to simply mull about as if having nothing better to do. Bower's voice seemed to carry Joanna away in his words and bring life to the picture displayed behind his shadowed figure. "This is Duke Ivano Belsa of the Italian province that is now modern day Cume mi? Yur," he spoke slowly, with warmth. "Duke Ivano? oh he loved gold very much? one could say he was born to possess as much of the metal as he possibly could. As a child the young Duke insisted that all his toys be made of the shiny metal? and his rather peaceful, loving, and good-natured parents were only too happy to oblige. As the Duke grew, so did his love for gold? so much so that he realized should his parents die that he would inherit the Dukedom and the gold in the tiny kingdom?s coffers. So the Duke slew his parents, murdering them as they pleaded for their lives? except he could not do the deed himself? oh no? You see the young Ivano made a deal with the French at the time, ceding them a few measly acres of land and promises of stronger ties in trade, in exchange for taking care of his loving mother and father. He would have been kinder to stab them himself, for the French took great delight in torturing them for a year on end before finally burning them at the stake and dumping their bodies in unmarked? and unconsecrated, they were god fearing folk after all? ground. Now? one would think the story ends there? but wait? it only gets better. [B][I]Tick tock, tick tock[/I][/B] You see? instead of being the righteous, enlightened ruler his father was? Duke Ivano treated the people of his land like beasts of burden. He raised taxes to levels that even had the most cruel ruler cringing? making it so that his peoples did not even have enough to feed themselves? even the richer merchant class. He worked them day and night in the mountain mines? neglecting the fields to feed his people? to have them mine the precious metals he used to trade for gold? and more gold? and even more gold. Some of his gold he gave away, yes? to mercenaries hired to work his populace even harder. He effectively made his small country both the richest? and poorest? nation in all of Europe. Now, Duke Ivano ran his small kingdom like this for quite some time? acquiring gold of the deaths of his people. When the population dipped? as many people died quickly in his kingdom? he sent his armies out and captured slaves to maintain his desire for the glimmering metal. But soon our Duke became quite paranoid? as one with a large amount of gold do tend to become if they are not careful? and started to kill many of the people who desperately tried to keep his kingdom in working order. And when I say kill I mean eventually? the Duke took insane delight in torture? and was quite creative at the art. An example was to take a supposed thief who had tried to steal some of his gold and dip them in molten gold, turning them into golden statues that lined his hallway. Except he did this while they were still alive? their screams and spasm?s of pain locked forever in a golden pose. Not a good way to die? or so I have been told. Eventually the Duke pushed too far? stopped sending his paltry payments to the Church in Rome. The legend goes the papal knights sent to dispatch the Duke found him sitting in a room of pure gold, eating from a table of pure gold with golden bowls and cups and what not? dead? why you ask? Because the meal he was having? was gold dust." Intoxicated in the story, almost forgetting the true purpose for the meeting, Joanna found herself awaiting the conclusion. "The duke was quite crazy," Bowser continued, failing to disappoint, "probably from poisoning by the very mineral he loved so much. But like the duke I have always protected what is mine--by [I]taking[/I] it. And...it has been my poison. I have no reason to help you. Goodbye Miss. Dark." "Tell me Bowser," Joanna insisted, rubbing her chin, "how do you know so much about Earthen culture? Why should you care about old myths and legend?" Grinning evilishly, bearing his fangs, like great ivory tusks, Bowser replied simply, "It's a hobby. Nothing more. After all, I once tried to conquer Earth--'looked like a nice summer home." Joanna saw her opportunity. "If you'll help me find out exactly which villains have escaped and assist me in capturing them, I'll provide you with writing and reading materials." "And pictures of Princess Peach," the king of the koopa's demanded resoundlingly. Joanna's answer was simply :"No way." Turning on her heels, she briskly began to exit the room. Bowser's voice stopped her abruptly. "Good work Perfect Dark," his raspy voice called out, "Bravo, on single handedly eliminating the DOOM infestation earlier. You really are a work-aholic aren't you my dear? I feel flattered that you have enough time to fit me into your schedule. Leave me with the files and give me an hour to look them over."

Well, she's only twenty-one years old. She has plenty of time in her life to have children. She should finish her schooling before having a child, because it will become difficult for her to balance the responsibilities of studying, attending class, and making arrangements for the child. I assume that she also works to some extent. That's a lot to have on one plate. Plus, she would have to juggle a relationship with her husband. Her best course of action from where I stand, is to iron out her married life, finish schooling and find a suitable career. She'll be a lot happier when her goals have been completed, when she's had time to adjust to married life, and when she has a clear means to provide for her child. That's my two cents.

Hmm, I was never too fond of Spirit Week in my school. People took it [I]way[/I] too seriously. It was even a little frightening, lol. I remember when I was a senior, there was an uproar, because the Freshman advisor (who later was forced to resign for having sexual relations with a student) was in charge of judging the winner of the contest. Sure enough, the freshmen class won. Of course, I couldn't care less. I was the minority; barely anyone shared that sentiment. Whether they were possessed by school pride, or being plain childish, is beyond me. Anyhow, the entire class stood up and attempted to leave the pep rally early in protest, but ran into a barricade of teachers who had counted on the walk-out. The sadest part of this whole situation was that my class should have set an example or something along those lines. The festivities were supposed to be about school spirit, not winning and losing. When people start taking it that seriously, it just isn't fun anymore. It's sad. :drunk:

Oh, I read about this in the paper today. It caused NASA to shut down Mission Control in Houston for the first time, if I recall correctly. It's a little ironic that the launch of shuttle [I]Atlantis[/I] was postponed because of a storm that has dropped a foot of rain, among other serious damages. My best wishes go out to the thousands upon thousands of people who had to evacuate for this storm.

Yep, I know I didn't have to, but it's for my benefit also, since I now have to do this on a daily basis for my classes. It was like practice. Anyway, yeah, they were only suggestions that [i]should[/I] be done in your way, in order to retain your voice. As for "All Right", I know it wasn't big, but as I said, you'll inmpress critical teachers. I liked the revised one. It read well. The story itself is powerful, especially with the quote you ended it in. Very effective.

Ah, I'm also writing a narrative. Maybe I'll show it to you sometime. Anyway, I'll help you make corrections on this because you were nice enough to read my story and comment on it. Plus, I know that you're an aspiring writer. ^_^ You might want to remove the adverb "slightly." My current writing teacher, claims that adverb usage can bog down the paper. Just say what you need to. Instead you could say "My Grandpa said with a slight stutter" or "My grandpa requested with his familiar, faint stutter." I like the repetition of "f" in that variation. Your second sentence could be a tad better, just by reworking it a bit. "Accepting the crisp paper, I opened the passanger door." Either that, or just flip the sentence as so: "I opened the door of his van as I received the crisp paper. Mentioning your hand really isn't necessary--it's already implied. Also, watch the "alright." If you want to impress your teacher, say "All Right." Here's your second paragraph. [B][Quote]As I walked out of the store, directly to left of me, by the front doors, sat two transients. They were wearing heavy metal band shirts, and looked both about twenty or older. They looked like the dirtiest trash I had ever seen. Besides this first conception of them, I felt a slight tinge of sympathy for the life that they must lead. As I approached my Grandpa?s van, I strayed not one more glance as I pushed my feeling of sympathy aside.[/B][/Quote] Now, check out what I did with it. "As I walked out of the store, I noticed two transients sitting by the front door, directly to my left. Clad in heavy metal band shirts, they looked like the dirtiest trash I had ever seen. Along with my harsh, initial impression of them, I felt a slight tinge of sympathy for the life that they must lead. As I approached my Grandpa?s van, I delivered not another glance their way, pushing all sympathy downward." The next paragraph is pretty good. I only think that you should work on this part: [B][Quote]As I stared at the transient smoking, the sympathy gave another brief piercing as I tucked it back away again. ?Did he really get that from the garbage?? I said questionably. After a brief moment of quiet, my Grandpa turned his head, an escaping look of remembrance leaving his face. ?Yup,? he simply said, turning his head again.[/Quote][/B] You could say "...transient smoking, my sympathy gave way; I felt another pang of anguish pierce my stomach like a dagger." Also, it would sound better with ?Horrified, I asked 'Did he really get that from the garbage?? Lastly, for that paragraph, "After a breif moment of quiet" may sound better as "After A brief moment of silence." On that note, I'm quickly running out of internet time, lol. I hope that you don't take my corrections as an insult or anything. They're suggestions, really. I only took the time to make them because I like your writing. ^_^

Heh, ya' gotta love Raiha. ^_^ 'One of the few people who actually understand my writing and pull some meaninful sense out of it, lol. :)

Okay, I don't think that anyone is active as Alucard. Anime Lover, if you wish to use Doctor Evil as a secondary character, feel free to do so. Lastly, the image in your profile will be replaced as requested Shinobi.

Well, does "no correspondence" mean that staff cannot enter? Because if staff are, in fact, allowed to enter, then I'm not so sure that sticking to one thread will work out so well.

Hmmm, perhaps you could put a link to the avatars in your signature if adding them to the selection on the boards isn't an option...

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by zidane11 [/i] [B]It made me feel like I was in another world. What was the point of that any ways? Were you just bored or something? [/B][/QUOTE] Nope, I actually wrote that in an rpg club in which we had to compete. Some people [I]actually write for fun[/I], lol. To say the least, it kept me on my toes-er fingers, until it went under. Anyway, I always love to allow the readers derive their own meaning from the story. I mean, that's half the fun. ;)

Well, you might be interested in checking out Robotech: BattleCry, which should be released by now for the Playstation 2. The game is supposedly disappointing in the respect that it doesn't include many anime clips from the show, but the actual cel shaded graphics engine should come pretty close to replicating it with nice explosions and smoke. From what I've read, the game is pretty average, so you might want to rent it unless you're a big Robotech mark. At least it has multiplayer mode for up to two players though. Another game that comes to mind is Front Mission, by Square I believe. I didn't actually own this game, as it was my friend's, but it seemed to be a stragtegy RPG in the same vein as Final Fantasy Tactics. I doubt that the gameplay is [I]too[/I] similar, and I can't make a strong claim seeing as how I've never bothered with the game, but it [I]probably[/I] includes many of the same elements. If you have an Xbox lying around, I suggest going to that respective forum and finding out about that monster mech title that Capcom's sitting on. That is, if you feel like shelling out a fortune for the custom control pad. ;)

This is indeed a pessimistic topic in a sense. It's kind of a shame to see people so young, most not even in the prime of their lives yet, thinking about death. Then again, because death is one thing people can't control yet, I suppose it's able to fascinate younger people too. I do vaguely remember a topic touching on this subject, but I never repsonded. If I had that much time to live, I would simply see everything I ever wanted to see, and try to write something memorable that would be remembered long after I was gone. Lofty thinking? Yes. But everyone's gotta be a dreamer sometimes, lol.

"I'm sorry Mr. Barcapollo, but your services are no longer required. Your work methods are archaic and scream 'yesterday.' We need the innovation that can only be provided by today's generation. You have one hour to clean out your desk and vacate the premises. Good day, good luck and God Bless." The last words, of Toni Barcapollo's employer, Mr. Donaldson reverberated in his ear drums. It was just one of those days; everyone has had one. If one were to consider the make-up of what constitutes a twenty-four hour period of misery, what would come to one's mind? No doubt, images of thunderous storm clouds pouring forth icy pitch forks of rain upon the unprotected heads of swearing men and women alike, would come to mind. Lightning bolts streaking across the danger foreboding sky, injecting power wires with an overflow of energy, resulting in a chain of splintering power lines, fires, and unlighted houses immediately spring to one's mind. Other nuances such as waking up with gum entangled in one's hair, stepping in dog sh!t, suffering through a cold shower, and being twenty minutes late to work only to find that the car stubbornly refuses to start are all signs of an impending day of doom. Alas, these situations are trife examples of modern-day life in an urban environment. A bad day is a day that never ends... In reality, a miserable day is never perceived by the victim as a reality. Furthermore, a "bad" day rarely ends in a twenty-four hour sanctum. Unfortunately, those doomed to suffer and squirm upon the pressure induced upon them at the hands of a bad day are likely to suffer through extended periods of time. Like tooth decay feeding upon a fresh cavity, the misery of life slowly eats away at one's very fiber of being until the pain makes them scream out against the heavens for mercy. Waking up only to find the spouse missing, life against you, not knowing where to turn for help, these are telltale signs of life gone wrong. Stuck in a dead-end job, waiting for a check that belongs to the government and not you, looking in the mirror, only to see shades of your former self, are what come together to form a wretched existence. It turns out that Toni has been having a lot of these days lately. Life seemed to believe that Toni was hungry for more doses of reality, more helpings of grief. No matter how much he protested, no matter how loud, life protested louder that he was not yet full. On helping came after another piled sloppily on the last. A middle-aged "working man," divorced twice, currently separated, and hated by all three of his children, Toni Barcapollo found his life on a downward spiral. He was chubby around the waste, but he told his coworkers that he was healthy because he didn't smoke. Lately, all of the small issues in life, such as work and exercise had all taken a back seat to his personal problems. Granted, Toni was no saint. He found himself committing acts of adultery in both of his former marriages, and the one soon to complete the trilogy of failed relationships. These affairs weren't passionate, steamy or based on love. In reality, how many are? Toni, like most men found himself frustrated at the confines of his life, desperate to exceed the boundaries imposed upon him. Toni hurt his wives through frustration, anger, lust and most importantly: necessity. When love threw him a bone, he snatched it. After all, grief was common and bones were rare. He now found himself picking up the pace as he walked the streets, empty brief case in hand, and an empty wallet in his pocket. Maybe later he could down a couple with the boys at Marty's on 125th Street, put it on his tab. The warm, pleasing encouragement of the liquor would surely act as his inspiration. After all, a shot of tequila wouldn't crawl out of bed at night and leave him stranded...alone. For the first time, he noticed the menacing glares of the strangers around him. These people knew him all too well. They too, suffered the same twisted reality, the same tragic existence. Looking at them almost made him sick. It was just like looking in the mirror at home, at that sad stranger. Finding his own face in a scowl, it was now easy to understand why they looked on at him with disgust. Tomorrow, things would be different. The thing about a nightmare is that you wake up from it. Maybe in about a month or two, he could take his twelve year old son to a ball game. The Yankees were his favorite team...maybe. No son of his liked the Diamondbacks. Soon he would garner some trust from his family. He would be a man and face his responsibilities. After all, his father once told him, "There's one sure way a quitter can succeed in life: If the quitter finally quits quitting and starts doing what it takes to win!" On this note, a flash of white light sent Toni Barcapollo's limp body collapsing unto the decaying sidewalk. A sharp pain stemmed from the top of his skull, and spread to the rest of his limbs until he felt numb. His fingertips twitched as he lie on the sidewalk below, unconscious, blood flowing into his skull. The brick that struck him lie shattered in a pool of blood that slowly crept out beneath him. "Oh yeah, that's five more points for me. Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't that put me in the lead?" The ominous, scarred figure of Apocalypse glowed with pride and satisfaction as he patronized Genocide. Two men, dressed in flatly pressed, black business suits perched atop a Victorian rooftop, resembled two grinning gargoyles. This somewhat sick, juvenile game of throwing objects at passerby's amused them to no end. "Curse you Apocalypse, you always have to rub it in." Genocide smirked as he elbowed his friend jovially. "Damn right. Oh look, there goes another. If you hit her, it's bonus points." Apocalypse pointed frantically, his long finger outstretched towards an old woman carrying her groceries. His enthusiasm mirrored that of a young boy. Genocide grinned as he picked up a loosely stitched baseball. "Bonus points eh? I think it's time that I show her why I'm the most violent man alive. Besides, she kind of resembles my nanna. [I]I hate my nanna[/I]. She used to beat me with a stick." Genocide let out a grunt as he summoned all of his inner strength and heaved the ball. "Damn it. Just missed the old b!tch. Remember I get one more try. You pick the person." Rubbing the crooked scar that ran up his cheek and over his eye gently, Apocalypse peered down at the people wandering below. The distant sounds of wailing ambulances sent a small feeling of satisfaction into his bleak soul. A small crowd of people had gathered around the fallen man below. "Hurry it up Apocalypse, we haven't got all day. We have to make it and quick," Genocide snapped fiercely. "You know Genocide, there goes a likely candidate down there. That small round fellow." Genocide looked on amusingly at his newest target, as he gripped a jade watermelon. The two demonic pranksters chuckled as the watermelon exploded upon impact on the round man's bald head. The shards and fragments covered those nearby, increasing Genocide's score. "I'm the man. That's seven points. I'm up again tough guy." Both men rose stiffly and walked with haste. As they descended the stairs Apocalypse asked Genocide with a voice full of adolescent energy if he was "Up for another round. Thinking for only a moment, Genocide replied, "I don't know Apocalypse; it just isn't your day."

It's been quite a while since I played the first Persona title, but Semjaza pretty much summed it up nicely. The first person dungeon sequences simply ruined the game for me, probably more so for me than him. In fact, they're what stopped me from actually purchasing the game. The interface was really clunky and slow paced. Plus, walking around sterile, lifeless corridors that resembled Kileak: The DNA Imperitive in visual splendor, just wasn't a good time. I did like the battle system though. Being able to bargain with monsters and the entire card concept was played off well. Shockingly, the game even featured voice sequences that didn't make my ears bleed, lol. It's a shame that I didn't take to this game. Persona has a more mature theme than most games in the genre and a nice twist. In that way, it was ahead of its time. I doubt that I'll ever check out the sequel, because of my disdain for its predecessor's dungeon crawling interface.

We've already have a pretty informative thread regarding Xenogears. Feel free to read up on it: [URL=http://209.123.85.4/~otakub35/showthread.php?threadid=13377]HERE[/URL]

Criticism is a funny thing. Last week in my writing class I was pretty strict with some girl's paper in correcting errors because it was what I was [I]asked[/I] to do. I thought that she was going to take my head off, lol. She probably took my insight as an insult, but what most people fail to realize is that there is a difference between criticsm and helpfulness. Criticism is offered with the motive of helping someone improve in some aspect. Unless someone's offering criticism as a positive tool to help someone improve, then it just becomes whining and only serves the purpose of being annoying. I mean, what's the point of offering criticism for the sake of doing so? When I criticize someone for whatever reason, I sure as heck make sure that I can offer up adjustments or a means of satisfying my complaints. So, I'm keen to being criticized in anything I do, as long as the party doing it isn't criticizing just to bust my balls.