Video game publisher Atlus truly is the devil. Why? Because they’ve got a reputation for releasing stellar video games, and taking chances by localizing niche Japanese role-playing games (RPGs). Sure, this may seem like a good thing on the surface, it’s really a diabolical scheme specifically created in order to raise a flock of fanatically devoted fans ready to throw their lives (and wallets!) down at Atlus’ whim!

Atlus is probably best known as the publisher of the Shin Megami Tensei series and its spinoffs, a franchise of high-quality games known for its fans’ insane levels of devotion. Those alone would be enough to make any publisher comfortable, but Atlus goes above and beyond by bringing over other titles that no other publisher would take a chance on, like Riviera: The Promised Land, Yggdra Union: We’ll Never Fight Alone, and more. While more games is always a good thing, bear in mind that Atlus specializes in RPGs. Those don’t exactly lend themselves to quick playthroughs. In fact, many of the RPGs Atlus brings over are quite lengthy; Shin Megami Tensei: Persona 3 FES, for example, is an 100+ hour game! Even the most diehard Atlus fans must give up considerably large chunks of their time if they want to play everything. And since almost every game Atlus releases is of high quality…why would you want to miss one?

Speaking of which, the most important thing to remember is that Atlus games typically have low print runs. If you don’t buy the game on release day or shortly thereafter, you might be shit outta luck. And if you think waiting for copies to show up on eBay is a good idea, think again; Atlus titles have a nasty habit of skyrocketing in value rather quickly. (The conventional wisdom amongst Atlus fans is “buy now, or pay double on eBay later.”) That’s the biggest thorn in my side when it comes to Atlus games, aside from the fact that there’s never enough time to play them all.

Then there’s the matter of the cool bonus shit Atlus often includes with their games. Soundtrack CDs are the most common, but they’ve also offered up artbooks, slipcase special editions, pendants, plush toys, and more. They’ve even got a subsection of their website devoted to all of the cool goodies they package with their games: the aptly-named Atlus Spoils! Some of the drool-worthy extras are preorder bonuses, which really push you to pony up the cash in advance. For example, the recent Nintendo DS title Knights in the Nightmare includes a soundtrack CD by default, but if you preordered, you also got the Tome of Lost Souls, a 96-page artbook packed with art and stats on every character in the game.

You can see how insidious this whole system is. Perhaps Atlus spokesdemon Jack Frost is only masquerading as a cute mascot in order to further the company’s nefarious aims. If we’re not careful, we’ll all end up in his icy grip. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a stack of Atlus games to catch up on. Our Lord Jack Frost doth command it!

Lately, I’ve been reticent to describe myself as a “nerd” or “geek.” No, it’s not because of my disbelief in the concept of geek chic, or any other kind of anti-establishment nonsense. It’s because I’ve realized that a growing number of self-proclaimed geeks have gone wayyy off the deep end with their nerdity. Some of the arguments I’ve seen, heard, or read about have been nothing short of appalling. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: William Shatner said it best in that classic Saturday Night Live skit. “Get a life.”

Before I go on, let me make one thing very clear. This is not meant as a generalized “fuck you” to all people who describe themselves as geeks or nerds. A majority of my friends fall into this category, so it’s not like I’m flipping them the bird. I’m not trying to put myself on some lofty pedestal above the nerdy peasants, either. The targets of my wrath are the stereotypical geeks and nerds, simply because the stereotype is rapidly becoming the norm!

I blame much of this aberrant behavior on the Internet. Like with many other forms of fanboyism, the Internet has both brought people together and thrown a tanker truck filled with gasoline onto the fire. Visit any nerd-themed online community, like a video game site, anime forum, or science fiction network, and you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. The emotional ranting and raving that goes on there over the dumbest subjects on the planet is just plain sad. It’s not the discussions themselves that are the problem; it’s that those discussing them feel that they’re the most important topics in the universe, when in reality, anyone with a brain knows that have no relevance to modern society. It’s fiction, people.

The worst is that when people have backed away from nerdy pursuits in order to spend more time in the real world (e.g., with family, dealing with financial issues, having fun outside, et cetera)…they’re flamed for it! It’s the kind of behavior that makes you feel ashamed, even if you weren’t involved.

The geeky extremism naturally extends to the most celebrated of nerd gatherings, the convention. While some conventions are certainly nerdier than others (like Star Trek and anime festivals), all of them are a veritable cornucopia of the geek stereotype. I’ve been to many a comic book convention in my travels, including the massive Wizard World Chicago shows, and like Winston Zeddemore, I have seen shit that’ll turn you white. I’ve literally seen shouting matches over topics that don’t mean jack shit in the real world, yet these nerds consider them to be of paramount importance. The overwhelming nerd factor is the main reason I’m reluctant to attend conventions anymore, aside from the fact that I no longer collect comic books.

I’ve gotten into lengthy discussions concerning the political climate of the United Federation of Planets, talked about the significance of the blinking lights on Darth Vader’s armor, and considered who would win a fight between Unicron and Galactus. So, I’d think that my nerd credentials are in order, and I know I’ll never escape the label, as it were; cripes, I work in IT and I like Star Trek, so my fate is sealed. However, I also know when to “shut it off,” because I know this stuff’s just for fun, nor is it everyone’s cup of tea. It seems that a majority of nerds and geeks these days do not understand this simple concept. They’re no longer a social group I feel all that comfortable identifying with; there’s much more to life than nerdy pursuits. If you’re spending a majority of the day playing World of Warcraft, seriously, go the fuck outside.

The mess in Iran has let loose of flood of support for the protesters over there. While I certainly agree with them, as I’m no fan of religious dictatorships, I do disagree with many Americans’ hardline views on the matter. Plenty of pundits, politicians, and even my peers think we need to do more to support the fledgling democracy in Iran.

I think we need to do less.

Before you start shouting, hear me out. This isn’t some big middle finger to the rest of the world; far from it. My belief is this: who are we to decide what form of government is best for other countries? We’ve tried forcing our views on others countless times in the past, and it’s rarely worked out for the best. While the Iranian situation is deplorable, it’s their problem. The Iranian people need to work it out on their own, without our interference.

Furthermore, the United States has a boatload of internal problems right now. We need to fix our own country before we could even think of advising others on how to run theirs! Our economy’s in the shitter, our educational system is a joke, healthcare is a contradiction in terms, and billions of Americans are obscenely fat and appallingly stupid. (Don’t believe me on that latter point? Look at people’s obsession with celebrities and reality television.)

I’m all for other nations trying to better themselves through the will of the populace. We just need to back off and let them handle it.

As many of you may know, I’m a huge fan of heavy metal. I always have been, even since I saw cheesy hair bands on MTV in the 1980s, and moved on to much more talented and technical bands in the following years. While most of my peers moved on to the alternative trend, then the rap-rock trend, and who knows what else, I stayed true to my metal roots.

Over the past decade or so, I’ve become much more interested in progressive metal, as well as extreme metal (such as black metal, death metal, and grindcore). The latter has made things exceptionally difficult when it comes to discussing music with other people, simply because I don’t know anyone else who’s into it. There’s a few exceptions when it comes to specific bands (for example, my brother also likes Dimmu Borgir, and I got my girlfriend into some of Devin Townsend’s music), but they’re few and far between. By and large, the extreme metal I enjoy is unknown to others at best, and despised by them at worst.

It makes me feel uncomfortable when people ask me about my music. I do love talking about it, but I see folks’ eyes glaze over very quickly once I mention my favorite genres or bands. So, it’s really not worth talking about, now is it? Lately, I’m trying really hard to catch myself before I babble too much. I also try to change the subject, or answer any questions as briefly as possible.

I realize that a possible solution to this problem is to join some online message boards and other communities dedicated to extreme metal. However, that idea gives me pause. The Internet has contributed much to human culture and communication, but when it comes to bringing large groups of rabid fans together, I think it does more harm than good. (Like with video games.) I’ve lurked on a few metal boards, and the griping and flaming that goes on there makes me roll my eyes in disgust. A lot of the members there are kids who listen to extreme music as a form of rebellion; we’ve all been there at one point or another, but we outgrow it. The discussions rapidly devolve into flame wars, complete with horrendously bad spelling and grammar, and you know that ticks me off. These communities don’t look like places I’d want to spend a lot of time; plus, if I want to talk about music, it’s vastly preferable to do so with people who are actually in the room listening to it with you! (Oh well. I’m a member of far too many message boards and such as it is.)

A majority of my music listening is done in the car and at my desk at work. Both of those situations are ones in which I’m alone 99% of the time, anyway, so the solitary factor is one I’ve been able to get used to. Still, it blows not being able to share my love of intense music.

The new buzzword in pop culture today is “reboot.” Ever since Ron Moore’s Battlestar Galactica soared to new heights of quality, just about every studio under the sun has wanted a piece of the pie. Not only that, a reboot provides a convenient way for series that have dropped in popularity or otherwise fallen by the wayside to make a strong comeback. In recent years, we’ve seen successful reboots of many franchises, including Transformers, James Bond, and the Batman films. But all is not sunny.

I should first point out that a reboot is not the same thing as a remake. Those we’ve seen for quite some time, and they’ve become ridiculously popular in the last decade or so. Just look at all of the crappy 1970s television that’s been turned into crappy movies!

The other term that’s bandied about sometimes, especially in reference to Battlestar Galactica, is “reimagining.” This is just a stupid alternative term created to avoid using the word “reboot.” Considering what the entire premise is designed for (resurrecting a franchise), they both mean the same damned thing! There’s nothing wrong with using the word “reboot” when applicable, so substituting a more pretentious term is just retarded. (Get it?)

But I digress. While I thoroughly enjoyed the Battlestar Galactica reboot, as well as the semi-reboot that was the new Star Trek film, I’m beginning to worry. We’re seeing reboots with increasing frequency now, and in some cases, they’re completely unnecessary. A recent example is the upcoming video game Castlevania: Lords of Shadow. This is a reboot of the entire Castlevania franchise…but why? Even though previous games in the series have all taken place in the same timeline, each Castlevania game is essentially a standalone title. You don’t need to play any of the other games in the series in order to understand what’s going on. Gamers were never confused by this, so rebooting the series makes no sense at all.

To come back to Battlestar Galactica for a moment, there’s been rumors swirling around for a while that Universal Pictures wants to make a Battlestar Galactica film for theatrical release. While this might sound good on paper, here’s the part that’ll make you bang your head on your desk: it’s not based on the original series, or the rebooted series. It’s going to be a standalone film…in other words, another reboot! Moore’s series just ended its run a few months ago; there’s an interquel telefilm (The Plan) on the way this fall, and a prequel series (Caprica) coming early next year. Those are very fresh in people’s minds, so why confuse them by throwing what’s tantamout to a third Battlestar Galactica universe into the mix? Most importantly, though, is that reboots are generally used to resuscitate flagging series; the Battlestar Galactica reboot was a monster success. Starting all over again is completely pointless!

To close out this post, I suppose I should mention the most negative of the re-words, and that’s “rehash.” A rehash is when someone flagrantly rips off an already existing property or properties and boldly call it their own (e.g., just about everything Joss Whedon has done post-Buffy). Rehashes are something else that’s been on the rise in recent years, and that’s far worse than a glut of unnecessary reboots.