Mega Man finally speaks out about his troubled career: “Tron Bonne? Seriously?”

(Note: The original version of this article appeared at Kuribo's Shoes, the wordl's greatest gaming-related fake news site, so if you like it be sure to check them out. ) 

In the aftermath of Capcom’s cancellation of  the long-awaited third game in the Mega Man Legends series, the reclusive star of the long-running franchise has finally emerged to give his side of the story.

“I knew they were getting ready to fuck me,” Mega Man said in an interview conducted at his home in Santa Clarita, California. “I knew after Marvel vs. Capcom 3. I mean, they decided to have two playable characters from my games in it. They included Zero for the first time. And hey, he deserves it. He’s a good kid. And then for the second slot, they decided to use Tron Bonne? Seriously?

“I’m the most iconic character in the company’s history. They’ve got Viewtiful Joe in the game. They’ve got three Resident Evil characters in there. They’ve got Akuma, because Lord knows Capcom won’t be satisfied unless they've shoehorned that glorified palette-swap into every fighting game they ever make. They’ve got some one-armed has-been, they’ve got a Japanese dog that doesn’t even talk, they’ve got Zero and  freakin’ Tron Bonne, and I hear that for the Ultimate Marvel vs. Capcom expansion they apparently have some damn lawyer fighting in it. How the hell did that happen? Did he win a contest, or something? Was Capcom running some sort of  ‘Send in five hundred cereal box tops for a chance to appear in Marvel vs. Capcom 3′ promotional bullshit that I never heard about?”

Inside sources at Capcom say the decision was motivated by Mega Man’s increasingly erratic and unprofessional behavior, which had started making him a liability to the developer. Mega Man has been involved in several high-profile conflicts with other characters in the Mega Man series over the years. Well-known examples including his tumultuous marriage, divorce, remarriage, and second divorce with co-star Roll, an acrimonious offscreen relationship with Dr. Light that reportedly culminated in a drunken, cocaine-fueled fistfight in Light’s dressing room on the set of Mega Man 10, and a long-running media feud with Proto Man for allegations made against Mega Man in Proto Man’s controversial tell-all book Sex, Drugs, and Steel: A Shocking Look Behind the Scenes of Capcom’s Most Beloved Series.

In 2009, Capcom reached an out-of-court settlement for an undisclosed sum after a sexual harassment lawsuit was filed by Splash Woman, the Mega Man series’ first- and to date, only- female Robot Master, due to what Splash Woman’s attorneys described as Mega Man’s “lewd, offensive, and unprofessional conduct” on the set of Mega Man 9.

The last straw was apparently during the production of Mega Man Legends 3: Prototype Version, a prologue for Mega Man Legends three proper. Planned for a release on the 3DS eShop as a teaser for the main game, MML3: Prototype Version suffered repeated production delays while Mega Man attended a series of court-ordered rehabilitation sessions after being arrested for driving while intoxicated and misdemeanor narcotics possession in April 2011, which violated the terms of his probation for several similar previous offenses during the previous year. This ultimately led to Capcom’s decision to pull the plug on the beleaguered project.

Mega Man says he is considering a number of offers from other companies, which are rumored to include roles such as ED-209 in the video game adaptation of a possible reboot of the Robocop franchise, one of the Reapers in Mass Effect 3, and the title role in future Bomberman games. He is also in negotiations to star in a planned remake of 1994 fighting game Rise of the Robots, tentatively entitled  Rise of the Robots: Not the Most Godawful Game Ever Crapped Out Edition.

Though he insists that he has already put his acrimonious split with Capcom behind him, it’s clear that some resentment still lingers. “The first time I even heard there was going to be a Marvel vs. Capcom 3 was when Zero called to give me the news that he was in it,” he said. “They never even asked me if I wanted to be involved! You’d think they’d want Marvel vs. Capcom 3 to include the man who made Capcom what it is, but apparently they couldn’t be bothered with me because they had to make sure that there was enough space for TRON FUCKING BONNE to be included.”

Here comes an angry mob of new challengers, part 2: The Quickening

We now return for the second half of our guest post by Kevin Folliard, screenwriter for the movie Press Start, the forthcoming Press Start 2, and the ongoing Press Start Adventures, owner of the largest collection of horrible direct-to-video shark movies in the Chicago Metropolitan Area, and the urbane, charismatic, Manhattan-sipping yin to my glowering, vaguely disquieting Wild Turkey-gulping yang.  

When last we left our protagonist, his journey into the mouth of madness in search of a chance to play Marvel Vs. Capcom 3: Fate of Two Worlds had led him deep into the bowels of Capcom's Chicago Fight Club. Surrounded on all sides by a ravening horde of fanboys and barred from the object of his quest by the pitiless, inscrutable will of the guy handing out ID armbands, his journey's darkest hour has arrived...


I don't want to place blame solely on the antsy overgrown junior high kids who can't control the volume of their voices.  I'm not sure exactly who was in charge of planning this event, but a little crowd control would have gone a long way.  Blockades, red-ribboned stations, and competent security would have ensured some semblance of order.  Again, for as loud as the people screaming in your ear were, the actual instructions from Capcom's goons were as inaudible as a whispering breeze.

And front and center was the lead villain in this farce:  a stocky, bald white bouncer with a diamond earring and indeterminable tattoos being swallowed up by his neck rolls.  I guess Capcom saved money by bringing him to life from a bad 80s action movie with a magic ticket, and then granted him complete control over the entire event.

Once again, after the initial volley of wristband folks funneled in like bottlenecked traffic, my friends and I found ourselves about seven feet from the actual door.  Considering that we had arrived hours ago and had been herded by the angry masses, it seemed reasonable that gradually, as they let new batches of people in, we would inch forward to the entrance.  This was too much to hope for, and again I point to the timeless wisdom of my fictional role model Dr. Malcolm.

Admittance to "Fight Club" was apparently on random select, with our bouncer "Diamond Joe" calling out to those around him.  Tantalizing them.  Teasing them.  Forcing them to meet inane qualifications to be let in.  Enjoying his power over the obsessed.  Each time he emerged and made eye contact, scores of people lurched forward shooting their hands up in the air.  Desperate to be chosen by Diamond Joe.  One particularly short, particularly loud person directly to my left waved his cap in the air every time, calling out repeatedly:


"The guy with the hat!  The guy with the hat!  The guy with the hat!  The guy with the hat!  The guy with the hat!  The guy with the hat!  The guy with the hat!  The guy with the hat! The guy with the hat! The guy with the hat!" 

I think you can imagine the obnoxiousness… no… not quite yet…

"The guy with the hat! The guy with the hat! The guy with the hat!"

There you go.

Diamond Joe's utter randomness was overshadowed only by his sense of smug satisfaction.  If you had a pink shirt you could get in.  Then if you owned a pitbull.  Then if your car was in your grandmother's name.  If you were wearing a thong.  Things that could either not be proven, or that nobody would want proven in public.  Any asswipe could have claimed to have met Joe's demands with a simple lie.  Which is almost certainly what was going on.

Tension mounted as we grew weary of Diamond Joe's antics, and bitterness grew over the fact that one could not play the game they had been waiting to play for five hours unless they were an uncircumcised Jehovah's Witness (Okay, I made that one up, but it's the only embellishment in this story.  And it's not much of one).  Around 9:45PM, all couples were admitted and I suddenly wondered if I had been waiting to enter a goddamned roller rink.  Needless to say, over the course of two and a half hours it didn't matter how close you were to the door or how early in the evening you had arrived.   The crowd steadily thinned for reasons understood only by this bumbling jackass.  Suddenly Diamond Joe announced, coming across like a faux drill sergeant who had just polished off a bucket of KFC, that if any of us lowly maggots expect to be let in we would have to start picking up trash in the lot.

A gaggle of desperate nerds scrambled onto their hands and knees grasping for aluminum cans as if they were gold coins.  I am proud that my companions and I maintained our composure.  Having eaten and disposed of our garbage responsibly hours ago, it didn't seem fitting that those who had littered be rewarded for their prior carelessness.  But that's life.  In the end, all we have is our quiet dignity.

By the end of the night we were finally granted admittance to the Promised Land: a filthy hollowed out warehouse splattered with neon lights and plasma screens.  Empty pizza boxes and aluminum cans were piled up on a folding table in the center.  Apparently, there had been food at one point.  Throughout the entire evening, you could have counted the number of people on two hands that actually emerged from the warehouse.  Clearly, nobody was being asked to leave.  The gameplay time was never rationed, and player rotation was not enforced by anyone.  The long arduous wait became even more confounding.

But at last access to the legendary sequel was upon us.  There were no short lines on any of the sixteen or so consoles, so we headed for whatever random one we could find.  People were not lined up in an orderly two-by-two fashion, which would make far too much sense.  Rather, much like the warehouse courtyard, the preferred strategy was to crowd up as best you can and hope to wedge yourselves in.  By eleven o'clock, we had each gotten ourselves a minute's worth of Marvel Vs. Capcom 3.  And then everyone was asked to leave.

Was it worth it?  Hell no.  Does the game rock?  Yes it does.  When I was thirteen the giddy thrill would have carried me through the evening and playing as Super Skrull, Thor, and Chris Redfield would have left me with an endorphin high lasting for weeks.  I'd have doodled the characters in the margins of my biology notebook wishing for the opportunity to wait in a stinky crowd of loudmouths to do it again.  But I know better now.  Come spring I will use my hard earned money to buy the game, and my friends and I will enjoy it comfortably in our homes while sipping Manhattans.  I may be counting down the days and feverishly waiting for the character announcements.  But I'm officially, and proudly, not a fanatic.

---
Kevin Folliard is a writer in the Chicagoland area, having written several screenplays for Dark Maze Studios in Champaign which are available worldwide on DVD, including the acclaimed video game parody “Press Start.” He is also the creator and head writer for the companion monthly web series to the film “Press Start: Adventures.”  His short fiction has appeared in the literary E-zine “Burst”.  Kevin is currently an academic writing advisor for the Effective Writing Center at the University of Maryland.

Here comes an angry mob of new challengers: Part 1

Thanks to my highly-placed game industry contacts and arduous journalistic efforts- a description I like to think captures the intrepid spirit of Pointless Side Quest better than the more literally accurate "we're friends because I went to elementary school with his cousin, and I asked him if he was interested in writing something on my blog when I was at his apartment watching Kingdom of the Spiders"-  we at Pointless Side Quest are proud to feature  a two-part guest post by Kevin Folliard. Kevin is the writer of the popular video game movie spoof Press Start from Dark Maze Studios, its forthcoming sequel, and the ongoing online animated series Press Start Adventures. Today, we join him on his recent, ill-fated expedition into the very heart of darkness, otherwise known as Capcom's Chicago Fight Club, in search of an early close-in look at the newest entry in the Marvel Vs. Capcom series.

Marvel Vs. Capcom 3:  Fate of Two Worlds.  Imagine my enthusiasm when I learned of Capcom's Chicago Fight Club event, showcasing the latest build of the game right in my hometown!

Growing up as an introspective gaming nerd, a good part of what got me through the doldrums of high school was looking forward to the next blockbuster fighting game.  As a comic book geek and a Street Fighter junkie, there was no series throughout the late nineties that brought me greater joy than the Marvel Vs. Capcom franchise.  All the mechanics and conventions of my favorite games,  bright vibrant animation, and my favorite American superheroes.  That's why, ten years later, I've become giddy with anticipation over the revival with youth and exuberance, free Capcom merchandise, and a good time for all, right?  Not so much.

Allow me to take you on a journey, my friends.  A journey that reveals the depths to which obsessive anticipation can bring you.  The spectacle of five hundred whiney, greedy, impatient fan boys and a complete and utter disregard for the words "organization" and "crowd control" have proven to me once again that I am officially, unequivocally, a mature functioning adult.

On the afternoon of September 21st my cousin and I set out for a shady warehouse on Wolcott Avenue. (Interesting choice, Capcom.  You do realize this wasn't a real fight club right?)  There we meet up with a good friend who had generously purchased us fast food.  A wise strategy, as we would need sustenance to last the night.  The event was to run from 8-11PM, and the first one-hundred receive special "swag".  So arriving at 6PM seemed reasonable, right?

Oh me of little faith.  The truly obsessed and devoted had arrived at 3PM, and received special wrist bands indicating their placement in line.  Fair is fair.  Furthermore the line in the small warehouse courtyard winded from the entrance and snaked back and forth at least eight times.  It would be a long wait, but at least my fellow gamers  had formed a neat and manageable line.  Slowly but surely, we'd all make it in and play the game in a calm,

efficient, and respectable manner.  After all, people who are obsessed with video games are often social outcasts, but ones with mutual respect for one another, an intellectual and progressive brotherhood of upstanding citizens, right?  But as Jurassic Park's Ian Malcolm taught me long ago…

Chaos is inevitable.

Enter Capcom USA:  master planner.  An inaudible set of directions indicated for the chosen first one-hundred to step forward and receive their coveted promotional crap, and it begins.  Four or five gamers, sweaty with anticipation, decided that with this new development they could no longer stand to be in the neat and organized line that had formed throughout the courtyard, and so they bum-rushed the entrance, prompting a lemming-like stampede in almost everybody.

When it was over, we had all been compressed like sardines.  Fronts had become backs.   Left had become right.  Yet some strange compact semblance of the line remained.  Apparently we were all respectable citizens until some guy says something we don't fully understand.  (In the future Capcom, invest in a megaphone.)  It wasn't clear what the coveted swag actually was from our vantage point.  But I conjecture had it that it involved some kind of eco-friendly Capcom shopping bag.  Ah well… I guess I won't be browsing the aisles at Trader Joe's with a Servbot tote-bag anytime soon.

Already it was clear that it would be a long, uncomfortable night.  After a drawn out-process, the chosen one hundred were beckoned forth, and the line dissipated completely into a crowd of seething, rabid fanatics.  My rational-minded companions and I shuffled forward to accommodate a frenzy far more brutal than a mob of Resident Evil zombies.  Somewhere to the right a Capcom grunt held fistfuls of special wristbands, intended originally for the second and third batches of hundred to arrive in order but now doled out at random to any screaming nutjob with the ability to push and shove like a preschooler.

When the frenzy settled and the wristbanded chosen were slowly but surely shuffled into the promised land, my compatriots and I found ourselves a good seven feet from the entrance.  Surrounded by my hardcore gaming "brethren," I suddenly felt about as alien as the Silver Surfer.  There was:

The gentleman in front of me with the "I *heart* vaginas" hat.

His pal with the "I love boobies" wristband (apparently not the kind of wristband that Capcom acknowledges).

The sweaty vein-busting loud mouth demanding that he be let in next because he is wearing a Marvel t-shirt and an official Street Fighter IV Ryu headband.

The terrified and dejected youngster who had collapsed on the ground behind me, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth, forcing me to balance on an angle to avoid falling on him and crushing his neck.

 A self-righteous fighting game fanatic behind me snapped and suddenly lost faith: "This is EXPLETIVE DELETED ridiculous!  What the EXPLETIVE DELETED are they doing?! EXPLETIVE DELETED, EXPLETIVE DELETED morons!  Don't they EXPLETIVE DELETED realize that I have to get some EXPLETIVE DELETED sleep tonight?!"  Apparently he was so forlorn that he forgot that nobody was forcing him to stay.  From inside the club a techno remix of Ken's theme from Street Fighter II drifts out and he becomes even more incensed, "Why the EXPLETIVE DELETED are they playing Ken's theme?!  This makes no EXPLETIVE DELETED sense?!"

While I too am hot, and tired of standing as the hours creep by.  I also can't help but smile at the displays of childishness, impatience, and irrational entitlement that surround me.  And all over a game that, a year from now, we'll all be tired of playing.  Which I point out, to the amusement of some of the more level headed folks around me.  It made me feel safe to see such rational acknowledgement.  These were my kind.  Accepting of their quirks, but able to function in the real world respectably.  You can see it in their eyes.  And suddenly I no longer felt so alone, and I had the courage to withstand the nonsense that tormented me… for a little while longer.

--

Kevin Folliard is a writer in the Chicagoland area, having written several screenplays for Dark Maze Studios in Champaign which are available worldwide on DVD, including the acclaimed video game parody “Press Start.” He is also the creator and head writer for the companion monthly web series to the film “Press Start: Adventures.”  His short fiction has appeared in the literary E-zine “Burst”.  Kevin is currently an academic writing advisor for the Effective Writing Center at the University of Maryland University College.

Will Kevin ever penetrate Capcom's inner sanctum, where the object of his quest awaits? Will Marvel Vs. Capcom 3 fulfill the lofty promise of its lineage?  Will the guy with the "I *heart* vaginas" hat ever actually get any? Stay tuned for Part 2! 

Super Street Fighter IV announced, beloved Indian stereotype T. Hawk to make triumphant return

Capcom will be following up Street fighter IV with Super Street Fighter IV, which will offer game balance tweaks based on player feedback and eight additional characters. It will be sold as a stand-alone game rather than a download, but apparently won't cost the usual full price for a new game and will have a special bonus for people who already have the original version. I'm glad to to see Capcom isn't going the George Lucas "Buy the Star Wars trilogy for the eighth time, this version removes about half of the annoying crap that was added to the seventh version, has slightly different light saber sound effects, and includes a new scene at the climax of Return of the Jedi where the ghost of Mace Windu appears in the Death Star throne room and calls the Emperor a 'Sith motherfucker'" route.



That said, while it looks like this game will have a respectable amount of new content, I'm hoping we don't see a repetition of the seemingly endless series of variants of Street Fighter II that appeared in the 90's, when Capcom decided to forego making a new game in favor of simply adding more and more adjectives to Street Fighter II. By the time the year 2015 rolls around I want to be playing Street Fighter V, not Super Street Fighter IV Callipygian Turbo Championship Anarcho-Syndicalist Perfect Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious Edition. Though if they did make that, I'd at least rent it so I could hear the Street Fighter announcer guy bellow the entire thing when the game starts.