[Editor's note: We're not just a (rad) news site -- we also publish opinions/editorials from our community & employees like this one, though be aware it may not jive with the opinions of Destructoid as a whole, or how our moms raised us. Want to post your own article in response? Publish it now on our community blogs.]  

Yeah, yeah, I know. Give me a minute to explain myself here.

When this month’s Musing topic was announced, I thought the exact same thing you did: “Great, now I can write about that game I love but nobody else knows exists!” Heck, I even encouraged Obscurer Tribune readers to contribute write-ups along those lines. Of course, being a particularly proud and pervasive weirdo, I couldn’t be content to dust off ANY old oddity for my article. For a segment like this I’d have to put on a freak show that none on Destructoid could ever forget, else I’d kick myself for the squandered opportunity afterwards.

In order to prepare for the event, I combed over my shelves with relish, jotting down list after list of the most improbable, far-out titles I owned, the ones that even the developers have long since put out of their minds. I mulled over any number of seldom-used themes I could use to unite the piece, perhaps focusing upon “failed series non-starters” or even “unreleased prototypes”. I thought and thought, determined to Get It Right – over and over again, I asked myself, “When it comes to videogames, what most frequently ends up completely and utterly forgotten?”

The answer, when it finally showed up, couldn’t have been more obvious.

[Editor's note: We're not just a (rad) news site -- we also publish opinions/editorials from our community & employees like this one, though be aware it may not jive with the opinions of Destructoid as a whole, or how our moms raised us. Want to post your own article in response? Publish it now on our community blogs.]

For all the feel-good platitudes thrown about these days promoting “cooperation over competition” and insisting that “if you give your best effort, you’re always a winner”, I think it’s safe to say that the message, all things considered, hasn’t found much of a foothold; if anything, a belligerent counter-movement has largely stolen its thunder, shouting down from the mountaintop that “winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing”, and demanding that losers “man up” and either make sure to do better next time or don’t bother trying again. “Real life doesn’t give consolation prizes”, as the saying goes – “and if you can’t handle that, you just plain suck.”

There’s a reason that the pushback against the “touchy-feely” trend has gained so much traction – after all, who hasn’t gotten a bit hot under the collar when it comes to the masses of underachievers out there, desperately scraping beyond the bottom of the barrel they inhabit in hopes of striking oil? From the lazy, underachieving students who never fail to win the “Most Popular” school yearbook vote, to the faces of talentless first-round singing competition castoffs adorning professional albums, to high-ranking political figures who demonstrate an astounding dearth of even basic knowledge about the authority they insist you give them, there’s a growing sense of resentment at the staggering amount of success attainable with so little justification. If you want to push the rhetoric even further, a convincing argument exists that any culture which condones, let alone celebrates, ignorance and lack of effort, and in turn dismisses outstanding accomplishments as “elitist” or “eggheaded”, is on the fast track to irrelevance, or worse. Heck, even The Incredibles, a cartoon tale of superheroes driven into submission by a jealous and unappreciative “normal” populace, repackages this very same message: When everyone is special, nobody will be.

[Editor's note: BulletMagnet has a lot to say about King of Fighters XII. -- CTZ]

By now I think it’s safe to say that the “dump on KoF” phase around these parts (if there ever really was one) has largely fizzled out, and the other shoe has inevitably dropped – while the ongoing talk surrounding the game has largely steered clear of outright flaming, thankfully, the fact remains that, at this point, if one criticizes King of Fighters XII, more than a few others will quickly step up to defend it. Which is fine.

After spending some time with the game, though, I find that, despite a nagging feeling that this article will bring me more trouble than it’s worth, I cannot keep my hat out of this particular ring, despite the fact that quite a bit has already been discussed elsewhere on the c-blogs, not to mention within the site’s official review. As much as I hate to say it, I find myself part of the diminishing local minority who can’t help but feel disappointed in the final product, though likely not for the reasons you think. While some of my opinions to this end do relate to points that have already been covered in other places, my major complaint about the game is something that I haven’t seen addressed in-depth by anyone else, and I feel that it’s a grievance worth airing (whether or not you agree with me, I’m sure you’ll let me know, one way or another).

First thing first, though, I suppose I ought to make it clear that I wouldn’t consider myself a “hardcore” fighting gamer by the usual definition (i.e. while I enjoy playing fighters, I’m nowhere near “tournament level” on any of them), but hopefully that fact doesn’t instantly render all of my observations and arguments completely null and void (once again, though, either way I’m sure I’ll be hearing from you about it).

Before I delve into the central point of this article, let me briefly make my position clear regarding some of the aspects of KoF XII that others have covered in more detail.

[BulletMagnet talks about Soul Bubbles and how it made him remember his childhood. -- CTZ]

A little while back, I wrote a piece about my experience with the then-recently-released LocoRoco 2, and how it made me feel like the world’s biggest jerk.

You probably didn’t read it, so in a nutshell, while I bought both the game and its predecessor based almost exclusively on my well-documented affinity for so-called “quirky” titles, a second helping of the series’ formula made me realize, to my horror, not only just how little I actually enjoyed it, but how easily I’d duped myself into thinking that I was having fun the first time around, simply because a Gamer Like Me was supposed to click with a Game Like That.

It dawned on me, like a waking nightmare, that not only had I wasted forty bucks and a fair amount of hours, but my predominant (and rather pompous) self-image as a gamer of “discriminating” tastes was suddenly all but completely null and void. Without mincing words, I’d been haplessly taken in by a subpar “niche” title simply because it bore that label, no different from the proverbial and much-maligned ten-year-old who begs his mother for a copy of a God-awful licensed game solely based on the “way cool” cover art.

I was embarrassed. I was a bit depressed. I was also convinced that there was little else to the story, let alone anything worth blogging about all over again. I thought that was the end of it.

Funny how the universe is rarely content to leave even the little things hanging. 

[It's time for another Monthly Musing -- the monthly community blog theme that provides readers with a chance to get their articles and discussions printed on the frontpage. -- CTZ] 

Though I’ve been playing videogames for a fairly long time, I take a bit of pride in the fact that, all things considered, I’m not the stereotypical “old grouch” gaming veteran -- after all, we don’t need any more real-life affirmations of the stereotypical overweight, middle-aged, scraggly-bearded specimen, only ever seen clad in a prized (and much-stained) Pac-Man shirt, who spends more time complaining about “the junk they put out these days” than actually, well, playing anything, old or new. In fairness, I contribute my fair share of silly hand-wringing and breathy griping on occasion, but I am nonetheless able to declare, with utmost honesty, that despite my decided fondness for older games, nobody’s had to forcibly drag me, kicking and screaming, into the medium’s modern era. To be perfectly honest, I rather like a fair amount of what I’ve seen come about lately.

Granted, it does pain me a bit that many of my personal favorite genres are not as prolific as they once were, but at the same time I’m pleased to note not only that they are all still out there in some capacity (especially if one puts in a little effort to track them down), but that they’re by and large newly focused, streamlined, deepened and perhaps primed for something of a comeback. Elsewhere, while I don’t personally game online very much, it’s still a really neat thing for players to be able to compete and compare high scores from just about anywhere, and can only be good for the industry. Moreover, the unceasing march of technology has heralded the realization of entirely new genres and stylings that we couldn’t have imagined possible not long ago; even relatively simple types of games have come away showcasing some nifty new bells and whistles. And while I know that this will tick some of my fellow golden-agers off, I’m quite glad to see some of the moldier facets of the “classic” mentality largely dead and buried -- for one thing, anybody who still wants it, to be blunt, can keep the “time-honored tradition” of passing off stiff controls and authoritarian, time-wasting memorization as the primary aspects of a game’s “challenge.” In a nutshell, despite a significant number of more disappointing developments, I do honestly find a lot to like about modern gaming.

Unfortunately, this state of simple, easy-going contentment was not to last - as soon as I saw this month’s Musing topic all bets were instantly off, and moreover all you young hooligans had better stay the heck out of my way. As of right now, it’s out with shiny discs; in with dusty cartridges. Out with basic personal hygiene practices; in with the cheese puffs. Out with openly and readily acknowledging the good along with the bad within the medium’s evolution; in with longwinded, self-important ramblings about The Good Old Days.

Exit the sensible. Enter the Curmudgeon.

[It's time for another Monthly Musing -- the monthly community blog theme that provides readers with a chance to get their articles and discussions printed on the frontpage. -- CTZ] 

Opening note or two: while there’s already been a themed write-up for this month on “demons” in general, I plan to discuss a far more specific and intriguing group that happens to fall under that broad overall label. Also, if anyone hasn’t played Nocturne yet, 1) Why not? And 2) Be advised, there are some minor spoilers ahead.

If you’ve ever glimpsed my blog, my forum posts, or most anything else (including the opening notes to this article) that I’ve done on Destructoid since I first weaseled my way in amongst your collective ranks, it’s probably become abundantly clear to you that Atlus’s PS2 RPG Shin Megami Tensei: Nocturne is one of my all-time favorite videogames. Naturally, there are a great many things about the title that move me to sing its praises so loudly, and frequently -- even a modest attempt on my part to chronicle my collective thoughts on Nocturne would be even more of a marathon for readers to finish than this blog’s usual fare.

That said, though, while it’s all but impossible for me to single out any specific aspect of this title that could truly be called its “best feature” or some such thing, this month’s theme does provides me with an opportunity to expound upon what I do believe to be, perhaps more than any other single element, what makes Nocturne such a uniquely compelling experience.

[Editor's note: BulletMagnet, in over 5,000 words, tells us all about Triple Triad X for his Monthly Musing piece. -- CTZ]

No matter how often I recall it, my mind is blown every time. Ten years.

Ten whole years ago. Wow. It’s a bit unsettling whenever I realize that I have to look back that far to tell this story – considering how vivid my memories of the time remain, it certainly doesn’t feel like a decade has passed. Granted, much has changed, in any respect you care to name, and quite frankly, I thought that I’d “moved on” some time ago – heck, in a large way I did. Yet somehow here I am, hunched over my computer, just like back then, giving my time and energy to the same idol, decrepit and derelict as it is, all over again. Apparently it’s decided that it wants a curtain call, all these years later, and I’m utterly helpless to refuse the encore it demands.

Maybe not quite so much has changed as I’d like to think. Or ten years just isn’t as long as it used to be.

[Editor's note: BulletMagnet tells a wonderful tale about Capcom's Demon's Crest and how it messed with his religious beliefs for his A Time to Destroy Monthly Musing. -- CTZ]

This might be a bit too personal of a story to be appropriate for a blog like this, but I’ll try to avoid going too deeply into the stuff no one else would be interested in. Regardless, just be advised of what’s on offer here - if you don’t mind a bit of exposition, read on.

To briefly set the stage, I’ll mention that I was raised in a pretty religious household (I won’t bother saying which religion specifically) – granted, we weren’t the type of totally nutty faith that tells everyone who disagrees with them to their face that they’re all worthless sinners who deserve to be treated like garbage by true believers, but more to the point I was the recipient of a pretty strict upbringing in terms of morals, and the code of conduct that I was required to abide by. It was a fair amount of guidelines to keep in the back of your head, but I managed to keep myself mostly on the straight and narrow without much trouble. Some years down the road, though, some of the nitty-gritty stuff of my religious upbringing started making less sense to me as I looked more deeply into it, and suffice it to say that eventually I left its confines, and to date have not taken up similar spiritual residence elsewhere.

Now before you assume anything, I want to make it clear that I do not consider my upbringing a “deprived” or “wasted” one – while I don’t adhere to my former faith’s dogmas anymore, by my own choice I’ve determined to keep many of its basic lifestyle teachings in mind even now, as I can look back on quite a number of them and realize that they kept me out of a lot of potential trouble. To a large extent I could truthfully say that, aside from the absence of rituals in my schedule, as a person I haven’t changed a heck of a lot. In short, despite my differences with it, I really can’t say that my years of living in a religious environment really “cost” me anything.

Well, except one particular SNES cartridge.