Twistaplot #3 The Formula for Trouble

It turns out I haven't posted one of these since January, but on the other hand you can't rush quality and you also apparently can't rush whatever this is, either. In any case, it's time to return for more Twist-a-Plot, keeping alive the slim hopes that I can review every book in this particular series. At least today's entry looks somewhat promising, judging, as you always should, by the cover featuring President Dog and a few members of the "Dark Universe," the new corporate buzzword for fifties monster movie villains that have become walking cliches stripped of any interest. All of this is pouring out of a beaker, I'm freaking out, man.

Who is a good politician? You are, boy! Yes, you are!

This initial moderate good will is quickly drained away by the bizarre set-up, including a friendship with an elementary school teacher whose house I hang out at. This would probably raise more than a few eyebrows today, but it was a more innocent time, I guess. Anyway, I'm told to rush over. "You're not going to believe your own eyes!" Fortunately, when I arrive he's missing and we don't get a Very Special Episode of Twist-a-Plot. But first I must decide if I want to be accompanied by a dog or a friend and I decide I've got Rover backing me up.

The dog's name is actually "Titanic." Yeah. Sometimes too clever is stupid, sorry. The authors (Yes, it took two people to create this book-shaped door-jam) were apparently pretty proud of what seems like an in-joke the reader isn't privy too, the best kind of literary in-joke, as this name is repeated several times while we search for "Mr. Watson." Did he discover the double helix in this basement? The answer is "no." Instead, he's created a "Super Strength" potion that will be sure to leave baseball announcers in complete denial for years. Must be special lighter baseballs or something.

Of course it's just sitting their, waiting to be abused. I'm given a choice not to drink, but let's keep it real. It's time to destroy the MLB record book and make millions.

The substance that was not illegal when I experimented with it, honest, tastes like lemonade and provokes immediate panic from my canine buddy. Easy boy, I'm the same person, just all jacked up. Or perhaps not, because I'm also in agonizing pain that the author compares to being "hit with a fastball." Well, if I'm going to hit all those dingers that will happen sometimes. 

As you probably already guessed, the strength potion turned me into the wolf-man. So I guess it's going to be basketball, not baseball. I start the mournful howling, drawing some attention from outside. Time to "look for an electric razor." Ah, that awful snark this series is known for, how I missed it.

There is no razor. An entire page, full of painful wackiness (dead battery humor, my sides are destroyed), is devoted to conveying this information. Gah.

  Yo, I heard you like cinematic universes, dawg. How 'bout this drivel?

The authors then explain that I'm a werewolf, because it was pretty ambiguous up until now. I burst through the door and there's my school principal (I heard there was an inappropriate relationship going on here, etc) and a police woman. They see my bike and naturally assume I'm the horrific monster that shares continuity and cannon with The Mummy and Gill Man, as any reasonable person would do in this situation. The co-authors describe this as graduating Summa Cum Furry. Yes, it took more than one person to come up with that.

I'm given a choice to be good or bad and decide to go with the grain and play for Team Evil. I assumed this would allow me to brutally murder the elementary school boss and the representative of the law (no silver bullets in that gun, good luck) but instead get a page full of b.s. about the animal nature within and our good intentions and how I should go hide at home instead of feasting on the freshly killed corpses of people who were trying to help me.

This book sucks.

To add insult to injury, my family doesn't even notice the change, at least in any meaningful way, so I turn myself in to the National Guard who were summoned for some reason that I'm sure made sense in the haze of narcotics and "Hey, that's really funny!" this slop was written in. Before they can shoot me like a Freedom School hippie in "The Trial of Billy Jack" the formula suddenly wears off, the status quo is restored like this is some horrible sitcom and that's the amazing story of the temporary lycanthropy caused by a potion that was supposed to make me strong.

No one wants to fight in a John McCain endorsed foreign debacle, what gives?

I can't really say too many positive things about this one. The authors (I still can't get over that. It's a Twist-a-Plot book, not the Manhattan Project.) put in some effort to make this one stand out, but the end result was disappointing, to say the least. If everything becomes a joke, why should I care? Also, Titanic the dog? Why? I guess I can live without knowing.

Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.

Video Game Slush Pile: Baseball Simulator 1.000

It's summer here in the Northern Hemisphere and that means oppressive cancer-causing solar radiation, urban rioting and the great sport of baseball. We used to call it our National Pastime and while it's been displaced from that lofty slot by internet pornography it's still a mildly entertaining way to while away hour after hour. It's all the fun of inhaling over-priced warm beer and enjoying "action," that despite attempts to modernize it with needle supplements and horrible human beings, would still not be out of place in 1890. Naturally, this sport that captivated 19th Century rural America is a perfect fit for the old murder simulator box and there's been attempts to bring USA Muscle Cricket to the world of video game right from the very beginning.

The NES era saw the release of some of the better attempts to translate the old ball game into something that's actually, you know, fun. Today's subject is a good example, incorporating an arcade sensibility and cartoony "Ultra Plays" into the mix. Somewhat unexpected for a game with a title that sounds like one of those old statistical simulator card games that have, thankfully, died.

At first glance this 1990 release looks like just another basic effort to bring the thrills of "Here's the two-two pitch...no wait, he didn't throw it. Holds the ball...holds the ball...scratches self..." into your home. You get some generic teams and players, such as "New York" and their star player "Cal" who I'm sure you're all familiar with. The gameplay calls to mind RBI Baseball, accessible and generally solid, even if the pitchers tire at an alarming rate. Do you really think Rocket Roger would be sweating and heaving after three innings? It's called "The Gas" for a reason, you know.

"Earl" takes the pain with a quiet dignity.

  

Of course it wouldn't really be baseball if everyone wasn't cheating like crazy and this game really takes it to the next level with "Ultra Plays." Available only in the Ultra League these trick pitches, hits and fielding moves turn the game on its head. Batters hit balls that cause earthquakes or explode, pitches throw fireballs and lead shot-puts and the fielders can retaliate with amazing slides and jumps when they're not being blown to bits or impaled by "missile hits." Fortunately this horrible bloodbath gets the Wiley E. Coyote treatment and the players quickly recover from what should be fatal injuries. Yeah, the ball exploded in your glove destroying everything in a ten foot radius. Rub some dirt on it, you're fine.

Before "flax seed oil" was building big arms you had to get creative to break the rules.

Despite these arcade elements the game still is, at its heart, a simulator. You can play an entire season with any of the three leagues or make your own team. You can "edit" one of the existing teams in what amounts to a "create a team" mode. And, yes, you can simulate games. I'd really be derelict in my reviewing duties if I didn't mention that. During the season you can watch the computer play itself or choose what the manual describes as a "high speed" simulation. Pick that and beep boop music plays while you look at a box score that isn't filled in at all. Wait a few moments and nothing changes. I honestly thought the game was broken. It turns out you have to wait several minutes for the score to slowly reveal itself. And I do mean slowly. I remember sitting across the room, listening to eight bit "music," reading a book and occasionally glancing up to see if the game was over yet. Yes, I knew how to live well.

 Atlantic or Northern, we've got both.

I'd be equally remiss not to mention that yes, there was a sequel released for the SNES. Somehow it managed to ruin a lot of the fast-moving and light-hearted fun. Maybe "ruin" is too strong a word, the game was still decent, but it was pretty clear they were out of good ideas and just trying to coast on marginally better graphics while sacrificing depth and gameplay. Huh, that sounds oddly familiar. The major improvement was the simming now actually was fast, so no more reading Stephen King's "It" cover to cover while waiting for a 30 game, 6 team season to finish, so there's that. Does that make up for garbage like the "Leaf Ball," the loss of many fun animations and bats that can break multiple times on the same pitch? Maybe a little.

 What will the commissioner do about players immolating themselves to get an edge?

Graphics: Overall, not bad. There's some funny reactions and everything else looks fine. Check out the different stadiums, too. You get exciting choices like "Dirt" and "Grass." Sickly green or sickly brown or some combination of the two, we've got you covered.

Controls: Pick up and play, very easy to get into. Pitchers have a lot of control over the ball's movement in the air and can throw fastballs, change-ups and the always dangerous "middle speed" pitch. Batters can swing or bunt. Fielders automatically move into position, making that nice and painless. 

Depth: Plenty. You can customize up to six teams and then play them against each other in a league. The game tracks all the basic stats, sorry, no sabermetrics. The season length can range from full down to just five games and the glacial simulation screen must be doing a good job of making sure everything is realistically modeled.

Overall: This one's worth a second look.

Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.