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The 10 Best Mega Man Games

Now that Mega Man 11 is right around the corner, I think it’s a good time for me to talk about the series. Mega Man is my favorite game franchise, and I especially like what’s known as the “Classic Series,” which consists of the games starring the original Mega Man character. These tend to be the simpler games, as opposed to the “X Series,” “ZX Series,” “XXX Series,” and “Battle Network Series,” all of which deviated from the original formula in some way. But right now, let’s focus on the Classic games, since Mega Man 11 belongs to the Classic Series. Here’s my list, in no particular order, of the 10 best Classic Mega Man games so far! Keep in mind that this is just my opinion, and you’re free to disagree with me of course. Also remember that I won’t be including Mega Man 11 , as it’s not out yet. That would be silly. #1: Mega Man (1987) The very first is still one of the best. This NES game introduced the character and formula. It was

Terminator: Sector War Impressions

If you don't know this about me, I loved the original Terminator , and Terminator 2 is a serious contender for my favorite movie. I've seen the other three, although I enjoyed them much less to varying degrees. I've also seen parts of the TV show. What I'm not familiar with at all is the comics. In fact, I didn't know there were any until pretty recently. Yesterday a new Terminator series started, so I decided to check out the first issue. It's planned as a four-issue miniseries about--as far as I know--a new character in an old situation. In the first movie, a robotic copy of Schwarzenegger ("cybernetic organism," oops) travels back in time to murder a girl named Sarah Connor so she can't have her problem child and the future can one day be safe for robots to live in peace. It's a wholesome family film, with a great message. My dad had me watch this when I was young, and it helped me develop into the writer I am today. You can see

A Ball of Aluminum Foil and Cheese

I know nobody says this, but eighth grade was a fun year for me. I transferred from the school I'd been going to throughout all of elementary and middle up to that point, and I was a bit sad about that. But I met an entirely new bunch of people, and most of them were actually nice. At this point, my best friend had moved across the country, and I wasn't very good about keeping in touch with anybody. I pretty much started from scratch as far as friends went. Fortunately, that went well. To my surprise, no one seemed to hate me, and I wish sometimes that I could redo that year now that I'm able to trust that people don't hate me. Because I'm not in touch with any friends from eighth grade, either. Sometimes I think of all the friends I don't talk to anymore and it makes me kind of sad. I wonder what they're doing now. You know what makes me happy, though? Enchiladas. But I don't have any good enchilada stories, so here's one about quesadill

The Businessman

Do you believe in businessmen? I didn’t either until one night in late February, much like this night. It was also like last night, and it will most likely turn out to be quite similar to the night that comes, say, four days from now. It was a spooky night, not unlike the rest of the nights of February, when I met the businessman. I was on the way home on my daily walk (I go for a walk everyday) and I’d gotten a late start this time, so it was already dark. Suddenly… my phone rang. I reached for my pocket and pulled it out so I could answer. It was my flatmate, calling to ask if I was okay. “Hey, you’re out really late,” he said. “So, I was calling to make sure you didn’t fall down a manhole or something like that.” “I’m fine, Gary,” I replied. “I’m actually not that far from home.” “Okay,” said Gary. “See you soon, then.” He hung up. I was starting to get hungry from minutes of vigoro

Jacques the Game Genie

Now that it’s been almost 94 years, I suppose it’s well past time to tell this story. Almost 94 years ago, I was on my deathbed at the ripe age of seven, with my left hand between my legs for one last tug at my winky. You see, unfortunately, I had spent the past six months or so dying from a degenerative muscle disease. I remember thinking “golly, I sure wish I had another 94 years of life in me,” and then it happened; I realized that my fingers were not grasping my dong, but as it turned out I had been vigorously rubbing a strangely tubular, synthetic object with a small hole in one end. Suddenly, out from this glorious little hole came a man. As this man looked at me, my eyes widened, and my jaw loosened. He was a translucent blue, and appeared to be levitating above my bed. The man turned round to take in his surroundings. As he did so, I got a clear look at his posterior. It was quite thicc. “Boy,” he shrieked gratefully, like the most thankful of banshees, “you have freed me.