Who Will Carry On My PlayStation 2 Adventures After I'm Gone?

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Vol 39 Issue 21

Study Finds Jack Shit

BALTIMORE—A team of scientists at Johns Hopkins University announced that their research found absolutely fucking nothing.

City Councilman From Future Warns Against Building 12th Avenue Rec Center

HOLLINS, VA—Appearing through a wormhole at a city-council meeting Tuesday, Xanthon Clarke, a Hollins 3rd District Councilman from the future, warned meeting attendees against building the proposed 12th Avenue Recreation Center. "I come from the year 2050, begging you to vote down the rec center before it's too late," said Clarke, sporting a metallic blazer and bowtie. "Before it's too late, for God's sake." Clarke was then vaporized by a raygun-wielding robotic lobbyist from 2079.

Therapist Beginning To Show Cracks In Caring Façade

SANTA MONICA, CA—After five years of counseling, psychotherapist Diana Berg is beginning to show cracks in her caring façade, patient Ian Cassell reported Tuesday. "When I told her how I still put everyone else's happiness above my own, she exhaled really loud, like she was exasperated," Cassell said. "Then she said, 'Well, we did talk about that last session, didn't we?'" Berg, who has had twice-weekly sessions with Cassell since 1998, said through gritted teeth that she suspects he doesn't really want to get better.

Chuckling Cops Attempt To Imitate Sound Of Man Being Hit By Taxi

CHICAGO—After witnessing a fatal hit-and-run accident Tuesday, Chicago police officers Ed Malloy and Ron Garrity attempted to replicate the sound of a man being hit by a taxi. "First, there was the aiiigh, then a fa-wumpp ba-bumpp," Malloy said, stifling laughter. "Then, when he was bleeding from his mouth, he kind of went ggrrgg blibb-blibb." Garrity disagreed, saying the impact "sounded more like a tha-loomp poompf." Malloy said it was the funniest on-the-job incident since that junkie was stabbed in the ass.

Rumsfeld Wearing Same Shirt For Fourth Straight Day

WASHINGTON, DC—According to Pentagon sources, Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld has been wearing the same slightly dingy white Arrow Oxford shirt for four straight days. "I can tell it's the same one, because he got a drop of chili on it last Friday, and the spot is still there," Deputy Defense Secretary Paul Wolfowitz said Monday. "I know Don's a busy guy, but it's really starting to look bad. I mean, it's all pitted out and everything." Wolfowitz added that Rumsfeld has worn the same pair of black wingtips "since we drove the Taliban out of Afghanistan."

A Mouse Unusual Development

As any Jeanketeer worth his or her salt (or chocolate!) knows, my two sweet kitties, Priscilla and Garfield, mean more to me than just about anything. (I guess hubby Rick would have to top the list, but between you, me, and the lamp post, sometimes I wish Rick would magically turn into a cuddly kitty himself!)

Nike's Million-Dollar Babies

After signing high-school basketball star LeBron James to a $90 million ad deal, Nike signed a 13-year-old soccer phenom to a $1 million pact. What do you think?
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  • Child Visiting Ellis Island Sees Where Grandparents Once Toured

    ELLIS ISLAND, NY—Pausing to imagine the throngs of people who must have arrived with them that day back in 1994, 12-year-old Max Bertrand reportedly spent his visit to Ellis Island this afternoon walking around the same immigrant station his grandparents once toured.

Who Will Carry On My PlayStation 2 Adventures After I'm Gone?

I'll admit, I've had a good run. Done pretty much everything I wanted, accomplished almost everything I set out to do. I fought my way to the top of the criminal hierarchy of two cities, saved the world from unspeakably evil magical and technological conspiracies, went to six Super Bowls, and unified ancient China under three different dynasties. It's a legacy any man would be proud of, yet it is one that raises an obvious question: Who will carry on my PlayStation 2 adventures after I'm gone?

I know, I know, I'm still young. It's a bit premature to be thinking of my own mortality. But seeing so much pointless death does something to you. Especially if you've ever died and forgotten to save after narrowly defeating Ultima Weapon, wasting hours of back-breaking, finger-numbing toil. You start thinking about how death comes to everyone eventually. You think about how, even after finding every last hidden package in Vice City, there's still so much left to do. And you realize that nothing, not even the original Xenogears, lasts forever.

Which brings us back to the question: Who will carry on my legacy? I live alone, never having taken a wife. How could I have? My life of polygon-based adventures has left me no time for anyone else. A marriage takes work, and no woman could have my full attention. And that is not likely to change, considering that Metal Gear Solid: Snake Eater was just announced last week.

But even if I don't last forever, my accomplishments will. I refuse to believe that everything I've built on the bones of a thousand Iron Fist Tournament fighters, on the shattered hulks of a thousand giant robots, on the ruins of three separate Metal Gear bases will one day disappear. No, if I believed that, I'd stop playing right now. Or at least right after getting the Tracer Tong/New Dark Age ending on Deus Ex, which shouldn't take more than an hour, even if I don't check GameFAQs to see where the damn Reactor Purge switch is hidden.

Yes, I may pass from the world without a successor, but I will not go into that good night unaccomplished. My five full memory cards of Complete and 100 Percent Finished game saves will ensure that.

There is still hope that I will find a woman and, with her, sire an heir to continue my work. But I'm not getting any younger. I first noticed it in little ways, such as my loss of appreciation for the Mario titles. When I grew apart from Nintendo and its cartoon games, it was part of the maturation process, a sign of my readiness for a more sophisticated, grown-up gaming system. Someday, the PlayStation 2 will no longer be enough for me, and I'll put it aside and go on to other systems without regret—especially since Sony's next system will probably be backwards-compatible with older games, as the PS2 was with PS1 titles. When I do, I will be one step closer to that Final Level we all eventually reach.

Even without a clear heir, there are ways for me to leave my mark on the next generation. I can be a mentor, serving as a master to some worthy apprentice. If nothing else, I could always pass on my wisdom as that fatherly guy behind the trade-in counter of the local game store. But whatever form my legacy takes, I firmly believe that someone will continue my work in some fashion. If there's one thing I learned from Parappa The Rapper, it's that you gotta believe.

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