|Voodoo Extreme Digest 1999-11-17 Marvin|
|Dialed Drakan Server Patch nailed like cheap whore!|
|Billy "Stupid" Wilson Slips Hoochie His Love Twinkie - On
Manveer "Manmeat" Mansock puts the smack down
on that little bastard Gary Coleman (I can't make this stuff up:]) Updated
Nocturne demo talks to the hand! Ratbag games to pump spicy special sauce
through fat-pipe manmeat. 3dfx. Q3A renders ribbed for your enjoyment.
Steve Polge tasty goodness smackdown! :)!
Stank ass thanx to Age of Wonders PR chick, Diane - eat glazed ribbed old skool
shit. "Not just for breakfast anymore", you skank pop-ho:-}. Viagra!
|Max Payne Creators Have Terrifying Near-Encounter With Blacks 1999-11-14 Erik|
|Alternate title: Max Payne - the next Duke of Finland?|
|I had kind of forgotten about
Max Payne, but was reminded of it yesterday when I read an interview with 3D Realm's head
naked-woman-blower-upper, Scott Miller. In it, he asserts that Max Payne may
perhaps, with a little luck, be out in time for Xmas 2000. Maybe. "When
it's done!" I think is the quote, more or less. To which I respond, "take your
time." My money's only getting less valuable and dirtier and more wadded into a
tight little ball. I'm a huge fan of tough-sounding names for fictional men that
take on a deeper meaning thanks to the delicious art of the pun - Duke Nukem, for
instance, or Commander Honoré de Ballsack, or Dick Butkis. |
As long as I was
staring off into space and daydreaming about Max Payne, I thought I might as well head
over to the official site and see if I could dig up
some dirt. I discovered that the game's entire development team is from Finland.
Like most Americans, whose only exposure to Finnish culture is many hours spent
gazing at the artwork of Tom of Finland, I assumed all Finnish men were hyper-masculine
tough guys, not unlike Duke Nukem himself.
Imagine my shock and disappointment when I read this article detailing the Max Payne
level designers' trip to New York in which it is revealed that not only are they not
fearless, muscular Finnish construction workers nor tough, half-naked Finnish Santa
Clauses, they can't, in any but the most strictly literal sense, even be described as men.
In order to visit New York City - just the number one tourist destination in the
entire fucking world - these blanched frails had to hire professional bodyguards.
Here they are describing a close call they had with some of our mysterious and dangerous
Next stop: Harlem, not a very nice neighborhood. There we found
some more lovely (OK, OK, read: real god-awfully crappy, but perfect for our shady
level-design needs) tenement buildings and even got to the leaking roof of one of them...
...and had some close encounters with the natives, curious of the six strangers visiting
their hoods. Thanks to our security personnel we managed to get out of there alive.
"Natives." Message received. No need to spell it out for me.
Maybe you Remedy guys could rename your tough hero "erik" because, get
this, I leave my own personal Finland - the lily-whiteness of my apartment - almost every
third day and venture into the crack house spattered streets of America without an
|From The Mixed Up Files Of Mrs. Roberta S. Williams 1999-11-11 Erik|
|And the S stands for "Some Kind Of Imbecile?"|
|Click on the image below to be
whisked to a report of my latest investigation into the
activities of Roberta Williams, which, due to its length, has been placed a separate page.|
Taken in 1903. Note implication that Mrs. Williams is supernaturally old and
|Anything To Not Fix The Home Page 1999-11-09 Chet|
|It's November, time to cancel the online role playing game you quit playing last Spring.|
|Chet continues stalling with the
new home page. This week to avoid his job, he reviewed
the retail version of Asheron's Call.|
|Tales Of Gaming Horror 1999-11-04 Erik|
|Keep your secular Shocktober - it's Woevember, baby.|
|This year, sensing that it had become too much about the
candy, we abandoned the traditional Christian Halloween. We feel that the Romanian
Orthodox Halloween, celebrated on November 4th, is a much more somber and terrifying
affair that has yet to pervert the holiday's original intent: lighting fires and making
the "hail Satan!" symbol with your pinky and index finger. Remember not to
use your thumb and pinky when expressing your enthusiasm for the Devil, because
that's the Amercan Sign Language symbol for "I love you" and will get you
punched - hard - by a bunch of Romanian Orthodox old ladies who must work out or
something. In the spirit of the season, we've crafted a terrfying tale of the game
industry we call
Somewhere, George Broussard is Naked
Adrian Carmack put the finishing touches on a preliminary fanged-skull-etched-in-stone
texture for Quake IV. It was his best ever, he thought. "Voila! This
cannot fail to please John Carmack, surely. C'est formidable!" he muttered in
the mixture of French and stilted English that made him the butt of almost every office
joke. He'd been at his desk all night, but wasn't tired because he was only four
foot two inches tall and it didn't take much energy to power such a tiny frame. Soon
Paul Steed would arrive, describing in his loud voice how he'd just gotten his
"helmet polished" and winking at him in a way that seemed more condescending
than fraternal. Adrian wasn't sure what this helmet polishing was, but thought that
maybe it had something to do with popping wheelies on a motorbike, then maintaining the
wheelie for a distance of several hundred yards, because that was the other thing Paul
Steed talked about almost constantly. Regardless, he wouldn't mind if that bragging
gasbag turned up dead - with a hole in the back of his head exactly the size and shape of
Adrian Carmack's little fist. "I wouldn't mind a bit," he thought,
involuntarily adding a spoken cry of "Morte!" While looking around to make
sure that Anna Kang hadn't seen him talking to himself, Adrian noticed a strange and awful
smell. It was like caramel and farts and hot sauce mixed and worse for the mixing.
Soon the smell was on his his tongue - inside his head. "Oh
Christ," he thought, "that's the odor of John Romero's mouth! I'm tasting
John Romero's mouth!" Blood turning to ice, bowel contents liquefying, he
slowly pulled the red BIC round stick from between his lips and realized that he
wasn't the first id employee to chew on that pen!
|New Era Begins, Then Ends, Paving Way For Newer Era 1999-11-01 Staff|
|Yesterday, visitors to OMM were shocked to find the normal
site replaced with our new look. We'd been
purchased for one million yen by the Suneya Corporation, Japan's
largest reseller of Government-harvested whale meat. Mark
your Dilbert desk calendars, because that previous sentence is the last time you will ever
see us italicize and embolden the phrase "one million yen" as if it was a big
deal. One million yen is roughly equivalent to zero American dollars, as was pointed
out to us by some nice people from UGO, who then offered to buy us back
from the Japanese. It's lucky for everyone involved that, in the crazy religion they
practice over there, God rested on Thursday, so Suneya Corporation was open for business
on the U.S. Lord's day. By midnight, the scrappy young legal staff of UGO had set
us free. Total time of possession by the Japanese: under eleven hours. While
it's true that we are now owned by UGO, they sure don't seem like the county mounties the
Japanese looked to be. In fact, they've given a big 10-4 to all our mean-spirited
activities and waved us into the hammer lane to join up with their convoy of websites for
a clear shot to Queen City. That's Charlotte, NC for you webmasters still stuck on
the outdated idiom of black street toughs. To those of you who will inevitably
accuse us of selling out: it could have been worse.
|What's Going On? 1999-10-29 Staff|
|Seriously, what's going on?|
|We don't embarrass easily. If torture was defined as a
way of eliciting information through the application of extreme embarrassment, we'd be
torture-proof, like some kind of hard-case super spies. Lucky for Russia, torture is
mostly about shoving bamboo shoots up your dick, because we think we're pretty susceptible
to that. You can imagine the gravity of our current situation, then, when we tell
you that we are deeply, hugely mortified. In the salad days of OMM, back when we
were still on good terms with Ziff Davis, the world seemed like a frosty blue balloon
filled with nitrous oxide. And we sucked it. Like hungry piglets gnawing on
their mother's gas-filled teat, we sucked the vapor right out this shitty,
Dharma-and-Gregg-making old world until it became apparent that our NO2 filled balloons
were not, in fact, the world, and all the money was gone, and I couldn't remember what
Chet's name was. "Chad" was about as close as I got for a while.
broke. Broke, broke. Broke like creaky old Harrison Ford's hip or the AI in
the unpatched retail version of Monolith's next four games. As of yesterday, we had
two hundred dollars. A night of pull tabs and lap dances has left us this morning
with nothing. Where did it all go? All the money, and the very collectible
plates, trading cards, and dolls? We tried to figure it out ourselves and have
compiled the following list of places it all went:
|OMM Merchandise - $104K
the foul-mouthed badgering we received from our dear readers trying to convince us to sell
t-shirts, we decided to go the extra parsec and point our seemingly bottomless geyser of
money at a professional clothing design company. What with the very futuristic year
2000 almost upon us, we figured they'd better come up with something our fans could wear
in space. That led to the one-piece jumpsuit pictured at right ($4100.00).
We then payed another company $2400.00 to make it look like Gil Gerard
was wearing one. That's actually the original voice of Twiki the robot, Mel Blanc,
stuffed inside our Twiki reproduction ($3577.00). Cost of exhuming
the torso portion of Mel Blanc: an astonishing $94,000.00!
|The Warriors Game - $20K
If there was ever
a time to put shaking head in hand and proclaim in our best Krusty the Klown voice
"what were we thinking?", this is it. We offered Ritual twenty
thousand dollars to storyboard our ideas. They took our money gladly, then
devoted six weeks to spending it on Renaissance faires and Babylon 5 conventions and
imported moustache wax. We don't know who actually took the ten minutes to hammer
out the storyboards we eventually received, but it wasn't a professional artist, meaning
it could be any member of the Ritual art staff.
Click to see the whole series
|The Cleveland Institute of Modeling - $40K
became such an international hit with gamers, game designers, journalists, professional
cyber-athletes, and other ugly people, we promised ourselves that our next business
venture would put us in direct contact with more models and desperate teenage runaways.
From this simple dream, a toilet disguised as a penthouse office suite and down
which we flushed forty thousand dollars was born. Our motto:
"Modeling so easy, even a child can do it!" And do it they can, but not,
according to the State of Ohio, naked while we scream at them to "do it sexier."
|The Heimlich Counter-Maneuver - $33K
you become as successful as we just recently were, many people are afraid to offer you any
common sense advice. Obvious acts of success-fueled insanity such as creating a KISS
game or filming any novel by Tom Robbins or, in our case, spending thirty-three
thousand dollars developing counter-measures to the life-saving Heimlich
maneuver, pass by your groupies and hangers-on without comment. In our own defense,
if you didn't know the Heimlich manuver was a great benefit to mankind, you'd probably
think the fatso you just saw happily devouring an entire chicken was being attacked.
Also, if any of you ever travels back in time and witnesses Himmler bear hugging a
wheezing, purple faced Hitler, now you know what to do.
Step 1: Danger! Heimlich attack!
Step 2: Punch!
As we recently stated, it was touch-and-go for a while. Like Voodoo Extreme, Stomped, and
the late, great Blues News, OMM came very close to being just a memory, a half-remembered
legend of evil, like the awful Mounds bar and fart smell visitors to Ion Storm often
report sensing near Todd Porter's head. Big changes are coming this weekend.
Some will accuse us, again, of selling out. We prefer to think that we are offering
some disaffected, disenfranchised multinational corporation the chance to finally buy-in.
The other good news is, as of monday, we will be obligated to provide fifteen updates a
month. That's one update every forty-eight hours!
|Link Of The Day 1999-10-23 Erik|
|Our new bi-monthly link feature.|
|Last night, I wrote a scathing letter to Tommy
Boy records informing them that I would not be purchasing Jock
Jams 6 after the uninspired, almost unlistenable travesty that is Jock
Jams 5. I know that the series has been going steadily downhill since their
frankly transcendent sophmore effort, Jock Jams 2, but this installment
represents a creative nadir - jam-wise - below which I will not venture. Speaking of
going downhill, our once barren and reviled forum section has grown to
the point where it can now be considered a community. Our proof? OMM
forum bigwigs have created their own FAQ. We're
thrilled, honestly, by all the attention but only wish it was from hotter chicks, or just
chicks, like those biggie size hottie fries on the cover of Jock Jams.
Also, we're concerned that a community, by it's very definition, might tend to work
against the kind of real human misery we're trying to manufacture here. Where there
is community, however, can community theater be far behind? And that's pretty
miserable, so I guess we're all for it.
I can only hope this speech inspires some of
our dear readers who do not currently participate in the forums, to start. Go
Still here? Don't be such a pussy, read the FAQ. Then join the forums. And unlike
the diploma mills where I'm sure most of you got your fake-ass college
and fancy high school degrees, you might actually learn something.
Jock Jams 2: Now that's a jock.
Jock Jams 5: What the hell is this? Smoke much pot, hippie?
|This Update Sponsored By The Letter 'L'. As In Lizzies & Levelord & Liar 1999-10-21 Erik|
|Let's just set the record straight here.|
|Our single minded devotion to staging an all-white production
of Blacula in time for Halloween has caused us to miss
some updates. However, we think it's vitally important that someone retells this
famous legend in terms more easily understood by our people. Thanks to us, Caucasians
finally have a vampire to call their own. His name? Blacula. We
apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused our readers. That we are
producing this play for a children's charity should not influence your desire to forgive
us. If just one underprivileged or over-cancered youth hears the words "I'm
gonna drain that honky motherfucker!" delivered in the droning,
nasally voice made famous by black comics pretending to be white people and, for the first
time, really understands the terror of Blacula and becomes frightened, then I think maybe
you're being a little selfish with all your nasty emails reminding us that we haven't
updated. I'm talking to you, Tom 'Paradox' Mustaine. Perhaps
you should take a tip from the only decent thing in this whole corrupt, centipede infested
industry, id software's Adrian Carmack: a little less you talk, a little
more you listen. As for Levelord's now famous .plan
update, there's a very simple explanation: he's a goddamn liar. Yes, we're
having some money problems and it was touch and go with the site for a few weeks, but
we've resolved those issues and will be reporting on it this weekend. Rest assured
that we will not go out of business before Monolith. We're
serious. Imagine how serious Schindler was about his list, then
multiply that by one thousand. We've got our own list, by the way, and
we're not even halfway through it. What's on the list? Let's just say this
ain't your daddy's Schindler's List anymore. Sure there's a few Jews
on it, but that's just the beginning. To give you an idea of how thorough we are in
pursuing our list, the name Roberta Williams has not yet been crossed
off. Stay tuned for the big news.
Prance, Blacula, Prance!
American game developers are too chickenshit to touch a violent, button pushing
property like The Warriors. I guess they're afraid it might inspire
fights outside Electronics Boutique. Fine, we say, make your goddamn KISS games.
We'll see you in bankruptcy court.
|How Can You Work To This? 1999-10-18 Chet|
|Staff finally has scapegoat for recent lack of updates.|
|For several months, I have been promising everyone here at
OMM the ultimate Kingpin review. I now admit to not working on it one bit.
Instead, I have just been sitting in my chair staring at the computer screen with my
headphones on giggling like a school girl. Erik thought I was just listening
to music and slowly becoming Corky. He was wrong, this is what I was playing on winamp.
Now isn't this the best fucking Kingpin review? Thanks to some kids in Dallas.
The non streaming file is here.