Favorite Video Games: Tecmo Bowl (NES) 1989

No one every picks coach

As a kid I remember going to my friend’s house and getting my ass kicked in Tecmo Bowl every single time I played.  I’d be lying if I said that the game left a positive impression on me at the time.  I acquired my own copy of the game pretty late in the life of the NES, when my cousins realized that I was the only person they knew that still played Nintendo, and gave me all the games they couldn’t sell for money.  Unfortunately, for me it was around that time that time that my Nintendo stopped playing games no matter what kind of “tap the system/hold the reset button/blow it out” ritual was performed.  Fast forward to last Christmas: my wife bought me a brand new Nintendo and since then I’ve been playing Tecmo Bowl, constantly.

Tecmo Bowl (NES) 1989

Everyone agreed you had to blow the cartridges out, but if that didn't work the only thing we agreed on was that whatever the other kids did was laughably stupid.  One time a kid spit in my Nintendo.    

"The Denver _____"

At the time Tecmo Bowl was released it was pretty much common practice for sports games to have fake teams and fake rosters, due to the high cost of acquiring a license from one of the major sports leagues. Tecmo Bowl was one of the first sports video games that let you play as actual players.  A game like Mike Tyson’s Punchout might come out, but all of the characters were ridiculous racial stereotypes and not real people (Yes, I’m including Mike Tyson.)  Tecmo got around this problem by reaching an agreement with the NFLPA (the players association.)  Consequently, instead of the Chicago Bears there’s the Chicago Penguins Wearing a Crown(?)  At least we weren’t the Indianapolis Narwhals, or the Denver Androgynous Elves With a Horn(?)

Narwhals are the unicorns of the sea.  I usually say that out loud and laugh over and over again evereytime I go to The Field Museum.

HUT! HUT! HUT! HUT! HUT! HUT!...

As a kid or an adult none of that shit matters.  What matters is that the team plays in Chicago, and it features the likes of Dan “Danimal” Hampton, “Samurai” Mike Singletary, William “the Refrigerator” Perry, “Momma’s Boy” Otis Wilson, Richard Dent, Jim “the Punky QB” McMahon, and Walter “Fucking” Payton (Fucking was not Walter Payton’s nickname, but I added it because he’s my favorite fucking player of all time.)  As a diehard Bears fan it’s pretty cool not just to play as the Chicago Bears, but to play a videogame from my childhood (1983-2001) in which the Chicago Bears don’t totally suck.  By the time Tecmo Super Bowl was released two years later Walter Payton was retired along with the most of the legendary ’85 defense.

I'd like to play football with her, not for sexy reasons, but because she's a girl and I can probably kick her ass.

Strategy: drink them all when your opponent takes a leak

I don’t want to go too far down that road though.  As cool as Da Bears are Tecmo Bowl the 49ers and Giants are arguably better.  What sets Tecmo Bowl apart from say, Madden 2007 is the chess match that develops.  There are only four plays each team can run, and if you pick the same play as the offense you blitz them for a loss.  If you cover their receiver and the QB throws to him you pick him off.  Dead simple.  The game focuses more on outthinking your opponent and less on being able to hit 13 buttons in the correct sequence when you try to tackle their wide receiver.  There’s still a great deal of skill involved, but there’s a lot less random elements than modern football videogames.  Fumbles, injuries, and dropped passes might be more realistic, but they add an element of uncertainty to a perfectly called play.  Besides, who’d want to play whole 16 game season as the 49ers after Jerry Rice had a season ending injury?  In Tecmo Bowl you might be better at the game, or you might have a better team, but you won’t win on a roll of the dice. 

I'm like Bobby Fisher, but not a weirdo.

I kicked this post off mentioning that as a kid I lost every game I played.  It’s not just that I was bad at video games (I was,) but I didn’t understand the nuances and strategy involved in the game (e.g. ALWAYS cover Jerry Rice.)  Now that I do, the game gets better every time I play.  I can’t recommend this game enough. If you don’t have a wife as cool as mine, or you just can’t shell out the dough, it’s pretty easy to download a ROM of the game and a Nintendo emulator (I use Nestopia) to play the game on your laptop or whatever. 

I was gonna say "I wanna Bear Down on her," but that sounds like assault.  Maybe we could just like get some coffee  and have a respectful conversation?

The Green Bay Packers aren’t featured in Tecmo Bowl.  Not only do all true Americans (and by extension God) hate the Pack, it would seem that the Japanese do as well.  That, or maybe Tecmo only included the 12 best/most popular of the 28 teams that existed at the time, a list which did not include the hated Green Bay Packers. 

As the title would imply, Tecmobowl vs. R.B.I. is a great website for tips, and strategies for both Tecmo Bowl and R.B.I. Baseball.

Tecmobowl.org tends to focus on Tecmo Super Bowl, but the site still features some information on the original; not to mention the ROMs and emulators you’ll need to play the game on your PC.

Bottomshelf Beer Reviews: Icehouse

Merry Christmas everyone

 

It’s Christmastime in Chicago and it’s fucking cold outside.   I don’t mind the cold weather that much, but I don’t exactly like it when my testicles jump into my stomach every time I walk my dog.  In the spirit of winter I thought I’d review the coldest sounding beer I could find: Icehouse.  I say “the spirit of winter” not “the spirit of Christmas” because from what I remember Icehouse AKA Asshouse is pretty bad and it’s not something I want to associate with Jesus’ birthday. 

Eskimos live in an Icehouse but they drink Busch

In the spirit of holiday reminiscence it’s worth mentioning that Icehouse was actually the very first beer I ever got drunk on.  I stayed over at my buddy’s house and we had a few Icehouses in his mom’s barbershop.  It was the beginning of a lifelong love of beer, even though the beer in this particular instance was Icehouse.  The only problem that night (aside from the Icehouse) was the one dude that was with us.  We weren’t really friends with the guy and then when he got drunk he started violating everyone’s personal space.  The dude’s stories were weird enough without him putting his face about five inches from mine.  It would have been enough if he was a normal dude, but hygiene was not this particular character’s forte and he kept getting his grossness all up in my business. 

"Did I ever tell you about that time I did nitrous and made out with this chick and her roommate?"

The only other real significant thing I can remember about my first experience with beer was the spiral staircase I had to use to go up to my bed.  It was metal and really steep, which was hard enough to navigate when sober.  After five or six Icehouses it was damn near impossible (or in my case three or four Icehouses, but in fairness to me I weighed like 130lbs at the time).  This was further complicated by the goofy platform boots I was wearing in an effort to look “hip” or “dope” or whatever kids were saying at the time.  I remember getting vertigo when I looked down to take a piss at ground level, so bounding up the stairs to go to bed wasn’t in the cards.  I weighed my options and opted to crawl up the stairs, and puke in a sink full of dishes.  I guess I didn’t exactly “opt” to puke in the sink, but it definitely happened.

Like that, but in a sink

I’ve had Icehouse several times since then, but it’s been a long time since I drank Icehouse.  That’s not an accident.  In fact the only times I’ve ever drank Icehouse was when someone else bought it, which they did…a lot.  Icehouse is still pretty cheap, but when I was in my late teens early 20’s Icehouse was going for $10 a thirty pack.  Being an ice beer* it had a higher alcohol content (5.5% ABV) than your standard bottomshelf beer, making it a favorite of high schoolers and frat boys everywhere.  Of course being an ice beer, it also tasted kind of crappy but those particular groups of people aren’t exactly known for their refined pallet.  That being said, Icehouse has won the American-style Ice Lager Gold Cup of the 1996 and 1998 World Beer Cup competitions.  I guess they give a trophy to anyone these days.  The only explanation I can offer is that Icehouse was only competing against other ice beers. Winning a gold medal in an ice beer competition is kind of like winning a gold medal in the Special Olympics.  You may have won, but they will never let you donate sperm.

*For a definition of Ice Beer check out my review of Milwaukee’s Best Ice.

Gabba Gabba Hey!

I was kind of surprised by Icehouse this time around.  It wasn’t nearly as bad as I remembered it.  I guess over the last decade or so I’ve been exposed to a much larger sample size, and I have a much better idea how bad a beer can be (ahem, Gameday Ice.)  Icehouse has the stale beer scent of an old sports stadium, but it went down pretty smooth. Ice beer is kind of like the halfway point between beer and malt liquor and that’s exactly what Icehouse tastes like.  I often complain during my reviews that once the beer reaches room temperature it becomes undrinkable.  It wasn’t a problem this time.  My tallboy never seemed to get warm for some reason.  Either I drank it really fast or Icehouse has magical coldness powers.  I hope it’s the second thing; magical powers are much cooler than slamming a tallboy of Icehouse by yourself on a weeknight.

Magical coldness powers; useful both in Kombat and when consuming cheap beer in your pajamas

I guess that’s pretty much everything I have to say about Icehouse.  As far as bottomshelf beers go, you could do a whole lot worse, but I wouldn’t leave Icehouse and cookies out for Santa unless you want to get AIDS for Christmas.  If on the other hand you’re alone on the holidays, give the gift of drinking and split a case of Icehouse with a homeless guy.  I guess if you do that you’ll still get AIDS for Christmas, but at least you did something charitable.  Merry Christmas everyone. 

I don't think he'd give you AIDS, but if you see a bum that look like this I'd walk the other way

I used to live by a guy in a wheelchair.  At least once a week I would see him wheeling himself home from the liquor store with a case of Icehouse in his lap.

Would you actually like to know more?  If you do don’t go to their official website. After you take the time to fill our your birth date there’s only a single page with a short ad for Icehouse.

Bottomshelf Beer Reviews: Old Style

Halle Berry is 45.  It's not that old, but if you're 45 and you don't look like her I bet you feel like shit right now

I’ve always been kind of hesitant to review Old Style, mostly because it’s one of the few bottomshelf beers that I really enjoy drinking.  You see, most bottomshelf beers fall into two categories: bad and not that bad.  Old Style fits into the tiny third category: cheap beers that I really like. After this review there’s one less beer for me to look forward to.  Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy a cold twelver of Buck Range Light as much as the next idiot, but it’s not exactly my favorite beer in the history of beer.

Swing and a miss!

The other problem with reviewing Old Style is all the Cubbie shit.  Look, I try not to be a hater, but I’m a diehard White Sox fan and it’s embarrassing to be drinking “the official beer of the Chicago Cubs” when I’m watching the Sox game at a bar.  To make matters worse, during baseball season the bottles have a plastic label that covers the entire bottle and makes it look like a Chicago Cub’s baseball bat (interestingly enough it still has a normal bottle cap and not a cork.  Fuck you Sammy Sosa!)  To compound this problem the label is really hard to get off, even if you try to slice it with your keys.  When you finally do get it off you feel kind of cool, like bootlegger drinking out of an unlabeled bottle.  That feeling quickly fades when you realize that no one gives a shit that you peeled the label off and now you have a handful of shredded plastic in front of you on the bar.

I don't agree with your shirt, but will defend to the death your right to wear it exactly the way you're wearing it right now.

So why am I reviewing Old Style now?  Well for starters, most Cub fans I know are more annoyed with the team than I’ve ever been in my entire life, and with their season all but over I don’t feel like I’m betraying my team in any way.  More importantly, there was a coupon at my local grocery store for a five dollar rebate for every case of Old Style I bought.  After rebate that’s $8 a case which translates to 33 cents a can.  It’s like I won the beer lottery.  And what will I do with my newfound fortune?  Spoiler alert: Get drunk.  

"I've got a golden ticket."

Sweet home Chicago

Back when I was a kid Old Style was the biggest beer in Chicago, and at its height the G. Heileman Brewing Company was the third biggest brewer in America right behind Anheuser-Busch and Miller.  In 1991 the company was sold to Stroh’s and then Pabst .  When PBR took off with the hipster crowd, Pabst decided to relaunch Old Style.  As part of this process they changed the artwork on the can to some bullshit brick wall, which kind of sucks.  Old Style used to have a sweet wrap around graphic of Old-Timey folks making beer that had a frog hidden in the artwork.  They also changed the formula and “authentically kraeusened” the beer, which near as I can tell from the commercials has something to do with bad Improv:

Dipshit:  If I was going to kreausen the parking meters in Chicago I would make them talk like Ron Santo when you parked your car.

Retard:  If I was going to kreausen the parking meters in Chicago I would have them dispense deep dish pizza every time you put money in.

Waka! Waka! Waka!

Hilarious.  Typically the commercials are three or four “jokes” longer.  If that wasn’t bad enough they only have like two of those commercials on the air at a time, which means that during a single baseball game you’ll hear the same hackney bullshit 7 or 8 times.  Improv is at its best live and even then it’s usually more impressive than funny.  And since radio waves are transmitted into the infinity of space, you can’t help but worry that some alien race might hear that cromedy and blow up our fucking planet.

Hideki Matsui meet Matt Suhey

Bad Improv is to comedy what juvenile AIDS is to the human race, so if I can get past that Old Style must be pretty good.  It goes down smooth with just a hint of bitterness that lets you know it’s a real beer.  It’s got a lot of flavor for a bottomshelf beer, and for once that’s a good thing.  It completely lacks the cheap-beer-poo aftertaste, and while it doesn’t taste good warm it doesn’t become non-potable at 5 degrees above freezing.  It used to be sold in 30 packs, but those have gone the way of the white running back and barefoot kicker.  It’s now most commonly sold in 24 packs, but for some reason I can’t quite explain, I think it tastes better out of a tall boy.

I guess that’s one more good beer down, and very few left to go.  I’m kind of sad to be done reviewing Old Style already, but hey, it’s not every day you win the beer lottery.  Right now I’m like the Scrooge McDuck of cheap beer and I’m going to celebrate by swimming in beers.  Do yourself a favor and get some Old Style for yourself.   

Duck Tales! Waahoo-ooo!

They have a pretty good website.  They even let you “kreausen” your own personal webpage with annoying flash animations.

Lacrosse Lager uses the old Old Style recipe and is brewed in the old Old Style brewery.  If you didn’t win the beer lottery it’s usually cheaper than Old Style so you might want to check it out.

Cold Weather

It’s that time of year again.  When the days get shorter and the weather gets colder; winter.  There are obvious good things about winter: football, Lindsey Vonn, Christmas, and dogs with barrels of brandy around their necks.  Most people agree that those things are good, and many people will claim to like winter despite the cold weather.  I like winter because of the cold weather.

A reason for the season

Desolate as The Road

I feel like it makes me a little bit tougher than all those pussies in places like California.  They’ve never skidded on black ice across four lanes of traffic.  They’ve never walked down the streets of Chicago when it’s shitty out and you’re all alone, like a survivor of the nuclear holocaust.  They don’t know what it’s like when you absolutely have to be outside for an extended period of time when it’s freezing cold out.  It feels shitty, but you feel tough going where weaker men fear to tread.  Cold weather reminds me how my ancestors painted themselves blue and fought the Romans buck naked in the snow; the epic struggle of men fighting men, naked.  Well, this paragraph certainly took a turn for the gayest.  I mean jeez.  Ughh…it’s historical, look it up if you don’t believe me.  

Doesn't get straighter than this

Vice President: Of my pants!

Now, don’t get me wrong, I like complaining about cold weather as much as anyone.  I mean, bitching about the weather is at least as much of a winter sport as men’s figure skating.  It’s nice to have something really shitty to complain about.  Maybe that’s why there always bitching about bullshit out in Cali: third-hand smoke, the lack of high quality vegan restaurants, and Sarah Palin (no one else takes her seriously.)  We Midwesterners have real things to complain about: cold ass weather, a shitty economy and corrupt ass politicians.

But you know what I really like about cold weather: it kills the homeless.  I don’t mean that as callous as it sounds.  I think it thins the heard a little and leaves us with a heartier, tougher, crazier breed of bum.  Think about it, if you lost your job and for some reason you couldn’t get help from your family and friends, what would you do?  Personally I’d panhandle $40 and hop a train to LA.  You gotta be tough as nails and batshit crazy to live like Aqualung in a Chicago winter.  One time I was on the “L” and this homeless dude had his hands over his ears and he kept screaming that he needed to get to a fallout shelter.  Seriously. 

The proof is in the pudding.  Every slam poet I’ve ever met from California has been “homeless” for a little while, and the streets of LA are practically paved with homeless people.  In Chicago, if there’s a bum sleeping on Buckingham Fountain the police tell him to get his ass to a shelter.  In LA every beach, bench and tourist attraction is full of bums just laying out everywhere.  They all got funny signs, “need money for weed, at least I’m honest”  “Will work for booze.”  You know what happens to funny bums in Chicago?  They fucking die.

Thin the heard

In conclusion our bums could beat the shit out of LA bums, and if you want to fight poverty you should try to solve tough problems.  Stop closing mental hospitals and help fight substance abuse.  Don’t let hobos stink up Venice Beach.  Also, it’s fucking cold out and I gotta shovel.  Fuck.