Hawt Coffee

Okay, so there's this "Hot Coffee" scandal that is rocking the game industry and is the topic du jour on the daily news. Let's break it down.

1) GTA: San Andreas is the software in question. It contains gratuitous violence (beating/shooting innocent people, carjacking, cop killing, etc), vulgar language, and just about every vice imaginable. It is rated M, which means that supposedly, children under 17 cannot purchase this game.

2) There was a section of the game nicknamed "Hot Coffee" that was supposedly removed from the game, but it turns out that the flags that activate the scene were simply disabled (or disabled via some other means, but that's irrelevant). This scene featured female nudity, lewd acts, but no direct sexual contact (simulated, but no actual sex). All controlled via in-game interface.

3) Hackers hacked the PC version of the game to access the content, and word spread. Soon, the PS2 version was similarly cracked using the Action Replay device. At first, Rockstar claimed it was a mod made by haxxx0rz. After the PS2 version was cracked, they waffled.

4) The media got wind of this, and several legislators made it their crusade to bring Rockstar to justice (omgwtfpwnz0r!!1!). After applying pressure to the ESRB, the ESRB buckled, and reassigned GTA:SA a new rating of AO (Adults Only), the first game ever to receive the rating.

Now, this issue breaks down into two different arguments. The moral argument, and the technical argument. Let's start with the technical.

This is not quite as clear cut as it may seem, from either side. Proponents of the game industry are saying that the developer did what they needed to prevent normal access to the content. It is not accessible via any normal means. Many in the industry are afraid of the "slippery slope" that it could potentially crush the mod scene, or have other such negative effects. Are publishers now responsible if, say, some hacker decides to take the skin texture on the models in DOA3 and extrapolate it all over their body, effectively making them look nude?

On the other hand, the ESRB had to take a stand. To *not* have done so could have potentially even worse effects on the industry. There are already groups appealing to have an external (possibly governmnet-controlled) group to censor videogames. The option to assign the AO rating to GTA:SA was possibly the best option. The ESRB essentially said, "If it's on the disk, the developer is liable." If you're going to draw a line, that's about as fair as you can get, I think. But we come back to the DOA3 question posed above. What then?

And now, as a result, a lot of retailers are dropping GTA from their shelves until Rockstar can rerelease it without the Hot Coffee content. I understand that they have a threshhold and that they refuse to carry AO content. But is it really that different than it was before?

The moral discussion is the more interesting, in my opinion. Do we really feel that a scene of simulated sex is worse than all that violence mentioned above? And why are all these parents in such a tizzy when they find out the game that they bought for their 14 year old contains *gasp!* sexual content?? Did they not look at the box when they bought it? And is that new content really enough to warrant an AO (essentially an "X" rating) over what was in the game originally?

It boggles the mind.

Now, to change the subject...

...I do wish there were more games for adults (not in that way). Games with storylines for more... ehem... "sophisticated" tastes. And if there is to be a love story included, make it believable. The only games I've seen come close were Panzer Dragoon Saga and Ico. It's strange... a lot of people talk about the great stories in games, but the games that I feel have had the strongest stories are often the ones with the least amount of actual writing. Strange, that.

OMG DO YOU KNOW WHO DIES?!?

Ehem. No, this post will not contain any Harry Potter spoilers, but I just wanted to say I finished reading it. Although I didn't guess who the Half Blood Prince was, I was right about the other big plot point. Anyone who knows anything about Hero Stories could have guessed it, I suppose.

Nevertheless, my respect for J K Rowling has increased even more as she continues to prove that she knows what she's doing. It may not be world-changing literature (though, I suppose her books have such an effect on pop culture, that can be debated), but it is simple and pure fun. No other book(s) make me remember what it was like to be a child reading some fantastic adventure again. I'd really love someday to just pick her brain to see how much studying and research went into the whole thing.

Stuff Other Than Japan

Before I continue on about my adventures in Japan, I simply wanted to do a brain dump of all the happenings since last November.

Let's see... There are two really big items, I suppose. The rest is filler.

First off, I lost my first close relative. My grandfather, to be more specific, on my American side. Given that my father was never really close with his parents, he formed a sort of barrier between us, preventing us from ever really, truly being close. That, coupled with the fact that they live on the opposite coast, meant that we rarely ever saw each other. In fact, that last time I saw my American grandparents was over 10 years ago. Sure, I talked to them on the phone every Christmas/Thanksgiving or so, wrote the occasional letter to let them know how I was, etc but I never went to visit them. And now it's too late to see my grandfather, Lord of the Thumbz. He was 89 years old and died a relatively painless death, so I guess that's all really one can ask for at the end of things. In fact, I consider myself lucky that I hadn't lost anyone until now. I simply wish I knew more about him than what my father has told me.

It was a bit numbing, at first, when I heard about my grandfather's passing. It was a matter of days before I had to head out to another trip to Japan, so I spent a good portion of that trip in a bit of a daze. Might've been the beer, but I'm pretty sure that wasn't it.

To that end, my brother and I will likely be heading out to South Carolina to see our grandmother sometime next month. She's alone now, and I just want to make sure she's doing okay. She's in good health, which is good, but I don't think she'd be willing to move out to the west coast, where the majority of our family is, simply because she's old fashioned. I hope everything is alright with her.

I've dealt with that and sorted out my feelings on that whole incident, so I'd rather not dwell. Now, onto better things! I got promoted! Sorta hinted at it in the last post with the mentioning of my new boss, but I've been moved into the corporate department of my company, and I believe my official title is "CEO's Bitch." I swear, I'm his garbage disposal. Anything he doesn't know what to do with, he throws at me. But, I get to travel to more areas now (London!!) and make a lot more money, and am involved in a lot more areas of the company, so it's a good thing. Spreading myself a little too thin, though. Not sure how much longer I can keep that up. Figure I better do it while I'm young!

That's all for today. A bit busy, so yeah. Ciao.

Japan: Almost like Earth

Man, this time it really has been a while since I last wrote. So much stuff has happened since then. Where to start... I guess I'll start with recent developments, since they're still fresh in my mind.

So, as with my last post, I write this upon returning from a trip to Japan. As always, it was a whirlwind of a business trip, filled with everything from the mundane to the downright bizarre. A friend of mine put it best after coming back to the States after his first visit to Nippon: "The Japanese come from a world that's not entirely unlike Earth."

So, I arrive on a Monday and check into the usual hotel. I swear, that place is going to ruin my vacationing habits. It's not good to get used to staying for a week in a 5 star hotel on a monthly basis... So, I'm greeted by the usual staff ("So nice to see you again, Hapacheese-san!") and check in. They usually assign someone to take my baggage up to my room and make small talk the whole way, but this time, I insisted on doing it myself. I just feel so bad that the guy has to carry my heavy-ass luggage all the way to my room, and yet I don't get to tip him. And besides... it can sometimes get downright awkward.

Case in point: the "Head Butler" (don't look at me, that's what his business card says) has, for whatever reason, taken a personal interest in my "comfort level" while staying at the hotel. One day, after having helped me with my bags, asked me if I was "interested in having breakfast." Now, where I'm from, that really only means one thing, so I wormed my way around that one as quickly as possible. But, he quickly clarified, "Oh, I was talking about free breakfast vouchers for the morning buffet." Score. Well, I mean... scored free brea... nevermind.

But, back to my last trip. I plopped down in my room, showered to scrub off the 14+ hours of grime off my body from the trip there, and get ready to do some work.

I was supposed to meet up with my new boss that night to prepare some last minute documentation before our big meeting the following day. So, I called his room, but he had already essentially finished up and was making plans for dinner. I deftly maneuvered out of those plans as I had received an email on my cell phone from a friend, asking if I was in Japan yet and if I wanted to have dinner. Hm... Awkward dinner with executives that would likely lead to too much drinking and a hangover for the first day of meetings? Or a casual dinner with friends, who also happen to be really attractive women?

I was out of the door in a matter of minutes.

It was a casual affair: dinner with a couple good friends and a few acquaintances from work. It was relatively late, but we polished off a few glasses of beer and went on our separate ways. Next day. Meetings all day long, but i'm used to that stuff. Surprisingly, there was no arguing. For the first time in 6 years, we had an international meeting without a single name-calling or red-in-the-face argument. I was disappointed at the lack of opportunity to use my newly found Gaijin Smash powers (term liberally borrowed from another blogger). Alas. I moved on.

So, I met up with a fellow gaijin friend of mine (he's German!) for beers one last time. He's moving back to Germany in 2 weeks, so it was a bitter sweet thing. He's a really cool guy and we get along great... and he loves beer more than I do (gasp!!!). He was (understandably) suffering during his stay in Japan, as is too much a gentlemen to unleash the full fury of his Gaijin Smash on his surroundings. Return, my friend, to the Motherland and learn to master your Gaijin Strength!

Now... it's the next day that proved to be the most interesting. Okay, so picture this: your life has taken a few twists and turns, and through a sheer stroke of luck, you land a job that most guys would give their left nut for. So, you recognize the opportunity, work your ass off, and next thing you know, you're doin' all right. You've climbed up the corporate ladder and things are looking fine. So, you find yourself making small talk over nice drinks with one of your childhood heroes, and he says to you and the small group you're with, "I've got an idea: Let's go to a transvestite club!"

Okay. So, you've known for a while that your childhood hero isn't quite the guy you thought he was and he got moved down a few notches on your "This Guy is a Cool Dude" scale. Then, the dude busts out his cell phone and DIALS THE NUMBER FOR THE TRANSVESTITE CLUB THAT IS STORED IN HIS PHONE'S MEMORY. While this certainly did not affect his position on the TGiaCD scale, he skyrocketed on the This Dude is Funky scale. Next thing you know, the one girl in your group gets really excited about the notion, and before you have time to make an excuse, you get whisked into a taxi cab, and are on your way. (Okay, that's only partially true... at the elevator, I politely bowed and said I had work to do, which was true, but I received a look of such pure evil, so vile and unfiltered, that I was sure Mr. Childhood Hero was getting ready to put a pox on my family, or at least kamehameha my ass out of the company.)

So, there I am, heading out of the hotel with *two* company executives, and two coworkers from America. Despite being the largest of the group, I was stuck in the front seat of the cab. (The cab driver even commented, "You're the biggest one and you got stuck up here! You've got the body of a gaijin!" Well, Detective Conan, I'm not sure if you noticed the big ass gaijin head to match the big gaijin body.) As we drove to the destination, I looked out the window and thought, "Hm... That's Tokyo Tower... and wait... I know this place." Then the evil stench of Roppongi raced into my nostrils, and I knew I had to be on guard the rest of the night.

Okay, so the next point that night I realized things had gone horribly awry was when we arrived at the bar. I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting, but it surely wasn't a 2 ft tall penis doorhandle. I froze at the door, like a deer caught in giant penis headlights. A more stalwart soul pushed open the door, and the lights nearly blinded me. I staggered into the room, bewildered and dazed, and looked up. I just got all kindsa... bendy. Sitting at the table directly in front of me was obviously a gay man in drag: the stubble certainly did not go well with his eye shadow and lipstick drawn beyond the lines of his lips. And the leotard was certainly not flattering.

So, we were led further into the den, and asked to sit huddled around two tiny tables that could hold *maybe* 3 coasters total, and we were promptly joined by two men/women, one of which was Stubbleman from the table in front. The other was about 5'10", and about as skinny as Paris Hilton. With the lack of adam's apple and long hair, I didn't believe she was actually a he until he talked. It's quite disconcerting to see someone look like that, and talk with a really deep, low voice.

The night continued, and suddenly, the room went dark, and all the companions scuttled away behind a curtain that had ninja'd in from nowhere. The entertainment was about to begin. Despite the show's name ("Natsu da! Matsuri da! Kintama da!!!" - roughly translated: "Summer time! Festival time! Testicle time!!!"), it started off tame enough. A couple of the guys on stage doing a song and dance number (lip synched, of course), and a few samba dances ensued. Then the show hit maximum wtf-overdrive. Four of them came out dressed like high school girls in PE outfits, and they were carrying a volleyball. They got into an argument over something, and they needed Coach to resolve the issue. Being in Roppongi (The Sleaziest Place on Earth), filled with copious amounts of alcohol, and surrounded by transvestites severely clouded my Oh Shit radar, but I knew something was up. I knew that shit wasn't right.

They began going from guy to guy in the audience saying, "Are you Coach???" and then taunting them with various verbal assaults to their masculinity or pretending to felate them. Everyone but me. And the tiny hairs on your arm, you know when they stand up? That's them. (/Sixth Sense)

Suddenly, I was grabbed by 4 pairs of (actual) man-hands, and there were screams of "Coach!!! Coach!!!" Now, if these were actual women, I could've picked them up, tossed 'em over my shoulder Tarzan-style, and been done with business, but you try that with 4 men. Next thing I know, they're feeling my forhead and thighs claiming, "Oh noes! Coach is so hot! He's got a fever!!! Where's the doctor?!" And then the "OMG" hit the fan, got and got torn the fuck up, and became more of an O M G.

The largest one of the group (with beer belly and everything) comes out in a lab coat... with lingerie underneath. After a sad attempt at a sexy dance, he straddles a little stool on wheels thing that was whisked in by Stubbleman (who was now standing behind him) and they're both looking straight at me. There was fire in their eyes. A determination. They sensed fear.

Suddenly, Chubby Doctor threw his legs open to reveal a giant. black. strapon. I kid you not. I move to get up, but I am held down now by no less 5 pairs of man-hands. They've multiplied! I'm thrown into a hospital smock that's three sizes too small, and the interrogation begins. I don't even remember the goddamn questions. Someone was whispering the answers in my ear and the mic into my face. They were all along the lines of "Which okama (gay) is the one who is worried about such-and-such?" And the answer was always the same: Stubbleman. And every time I answered the question, the dildo-on-wheels would come ever so closer... until it was about 2 feet from my face. And then the final question got asked, and before the words even escaped my mouth, Chubby Doctor jumps on my lap, Stubbleman rushes behind us, and I see someone holding a camera. Well, shiat, folks. What's a man supposed to do? I strain out the best grin I can, and deal.

The show continued on its quick spiral downward into the fiery depths even after I was returned (thankfully, unmolested... relatively) to my seat. I sat there, head in my hands like a man broken, when I look up to see Mr. Childhood Hero crying, tears streaming down his face. He would reveal later that it was he, in fact, that set me up. Unbeknownst to me, he had engaged in shady dealings backstage. There was an exchange of money (or favors... he was unclear) and I was marked as the victim for the night. That's another 2 notches on the TGiaCD scale. The bastage.

I regained my composure now that the worst was over, settled back with my shochu drink, and decided to ride the wave the rest of the night. But, nothing short of Navy SEAL training and 48 hours in a sensory deprivation tank could prepare me for what came next. The lights went dim again, and I saw the feathery outline of more dancers waiting in the wings behind the ninja curtains. The base line starts. Bm bm bm bm bm. The hihat kicks in. Bm bm bm tsh bm tsh bm bm bm... And the curtain flies open! The first thought to cross my mind was, "Guh?!"

Five of the man-ladies waltzed in with the fierceness, single file, dressed like Vegas dancers. Topless. With boobs. And I don't mean man-boobs (though, technically, I guess they are man-boobs, no matter how you slice it). I did not know men could build such things (/Gladiator).

As some higher power was trying mightily to wrench my conscious mind from my body, I turned to the girl in our group with a blank expression, expecting to be met with laughter. Her visage was dark. She leaned to my ear, and through the deafening music, spake unto me, "I am a failure as a woman." Though, I suppose being man-made, one should expect nothing less than that. But having seen enough poorly done boob jobs in American porn, it was simply amazing to see what skilled surgeons and a strict diet of hormones could do to a man's body.

Thankfully, after the jiggling stopped, the rest of the night was nowhere nearly as eventful (other than one of the dudes telling me, "I know something in English!" "Oh dear God, do I even want to..." "Fuck me!" "..." and other such splendid conversations), in the end, it was actually quite entertaining in a "You know somewhere, at some point in your life, things took an interesting turn when you end up... here" kind of way. We left a little while later, laughed the entire way out, had a bowl of some of the best goddamn ramen in existence, and headed back to the hotel.

And the best part about it? I didn't pay a dime.