Article by plume: The Prambleton Post...again.

Got another page of 'The Prambleton Post' up for whoever is even interested. As always, right click and view it or whatever you do with your fingers with mice. Slantyface. (Sorry Kath, it's too funny not to use:)) Quite.

 

Article by plume:  The worst wife I have ever had.

After unfortunately waking up this morning, I decided that what better way to start my day than smearing mud over my body, lying naked in the woods, and keeping a running tally of how many unwitting woodland creatures I could capture and devour over a 15 hour period. I then decided that this activity could wait until next week, and that my time would probably be better spent playing Commodore 64 games instead.

One article on this blog deals with the electronic sorcery of the 'Random' button in Gamebase, and how its inconspicuous yet alluring curves set within that beguiling question mark have (probably never) led many a mans curiosity to better him. Women just press it because they are clever.

The 'Random' button. Also, 'Sexy Robot'. Chosen completely at random by pressing the random button.

For this article, I will again be demonstrating the use of the 'Random button' (I often do this by simply clicking it, others may achieve better results with alternative methods. Telepathy or verbal abuse for example.) JOIN ME!


1. Maggie AIP (Woman simulator(?), 1983, Ramiak)

Why Gamebase! It seems you do listen after all! The countless hours spent weeping uncontrollably at the screen due to the vapid and intolerable loneliness surrounding me have paid off! You have found me a wife!

I rapidly shuffled up the stairs and burst quietly into my room to find my favourite dating pants. After finding and discarding my 'Carbon Dating' pants, I finally located my 'Woman Dating' pants and rushed back to Maggie with renewed confidence.

Once loaded, Maggie required 30 seconds to 'Gather her thoughts'. "She's obviously nervous" I thought to myself. "Who wouldn't be with this fine example of a man hunched on a stool in front of them?" I thought about this for a second, straightened myself up, wiped the unidentifiable food from my jumper, and began to converse with her.

Interesting fact: Maggie has been utilised in 57 English speaking countries as a callcentre sales script for radiator companies.

As you can see from the above screenshot, Maggie was anything but nervous. In fact, it seemed she was quite the tease. I decided to furrow a more cultured path through this conversation, and so pretended to know and care about something of which I did neither. You know, like in real life! As the screenshot below shows, the results were dismal. You know, like in real life!

Lucky escape indeed, although take note that at one point, Maggie 'Extra Ignored' me. This only served to make me extra confused.

It seemed my attempts to sway Maggie with fierce intellect had failed, and I could sense her interest waning. I had to act fast, and think of subjects which (probably) held a common interest with both of us. This quickly turned out to be an unmitigated disaster as detailed in the screenshot below:

Interesting fact: MAGGIE HATES ME.

I quickly devised a cunning plan. I would pretend to need a toilet break, lock the door and squeeze myself through the window, thus ensuring a speedy escape while negating any awkward "So...bye then...I'll definitely keep in touch..." situations. I then remembered that this was my own house and I was sat in front of a computer.

I tenderly caressed the screen and switched it off. I'll always remember you Maggie.


The verdict:

Obviously its hilarious to type in ridiculous things, that goes without saying, but it gets stupendously boring very quickly. Ultimately, Maggie has an extremely basic parser and a hopelessly limited selection of responses to even the most simple input. Maggie didn't even respond to the tirade of insane profanities I subjected her to. That's not like real life women at all.

Article by plume:  Amazon Reviews 

 

Some Amazon reviews I have written about products I love. Not really! Also, people hate them!

Here be an excerpt from a review of "Russell Grant's Astro Tarot Cards". You know, for if you simply cant be shitted to click the link.

"...After hurling the Derek Acorah video through a car window, I entered the internet cafe and browsed Amazon until...BINGO!

I quickly clicked away from the 'BINGO ACCESSORIES' section and browsed to the Rattle Grants section, whereupon I finally chanced on my goal. Astro Tarot.

To my absolute surprise and, if I'm honest, unbridled excitement, Russell Grant entered the cafe at precisely the moment my beautifully toned digits clicked 'buy'. He entered it by means of crashing from the air ventilation shaft above the computer next to me. (I would later learn that he had been waiting there since December 15th 2005)..."

HUP HUP, HUZZAH!

Article by plume: The Prambleton Post 

 

Finally, The Prambleton Post is coming together. Got tons of ridiculous content for this, so hopefully I'll throw more content up when I can. In the meantime, right click on the image and view it in full size to read, or save it or whatever. I don't really understand how it goes big.

Article by plume:  World War 64

In my last post I do believe I detailed the magical properties of 'Gamebase' for the Commodore 64, and how it allowed me to sample the binary euphoria of 22500 games (and counting) known to have been produced for the electronic dream machine. (Thats the 'C64' Geo, not the 'Spaztrum'.) Using your mind-brains, remember that number: '22500'. Then, read this ebay listing bought to my attention by the lovely 'Lemon 64' community:

The following is an account of the actions I followed upon discovery of this item. Some animals were (probably) harmed.

(Imagine the world goes a bit wobbly, as if entering a dream. Just like 'Rent-a-ghost'. But without that fucking WITCH-LORD 'Timothy Claypole'.)

Little known fact: At the moment this photo was taken, Timothy was holding back a particularly forceful spirit. Timothy later swears its phantom penis didn't enter his mouth. The picture tells a different story.

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My first step in decyphering this mysterious ebay listing was to employ the remaining survivors of Britains WWII 'Bletchly Park' encryption facility, in the hope that they could provide any insight into the scrawlings presented before me. My initial thought was to offer a 99p 'Buy Now!' to the seller on an original 'Babbage Difference Engine', circa 1800's but to no avail.

Anyway...the old girls at Bletchly Park were delighted at the opportunity to solve anything other than 'Giant Sudoku' in the 'Mail on Sunday' so they agreed to the task at hand, regardless of what I offered the seller or, themselves.

(Turns out you can bribe post-war pensioners with trolley tokens wrapped in tin-foil with the word "Munny" written on them. Old twats.)

(Another wobbly dream bit below...)

                               ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

plume and the Bletchly girls are sat in what appears to be a sodden WWII shelter. World weary school desks replete with inkwells, are their workspace. Wooden stools replete with...well nothing really, just wood; are their...stools. They are surrounded by makeshift, wire-spewing radiography equipment. The incessant tap of morse-code in the background creates a sense of urgent urgency. urgently.

As plume (the girls) struggled through the meandering text contained within the ebay listing, the Bletchly girls, mentally exausted, finally arrived at their (plume's) ultimate goal: The tertiary, secondary and primary translation combined! It was akin to decyphering the actual 'Rosseta Stone'! (Not related to the shitty C64 conversion of 'Double Dragon 3: the Rosseta Stone' ™ which I hope to review at the end of this article, but the 'real life' ™ 1 hyroglyphic, 1 ancient Greek and 1 Demotic greek transcryption 'real-life' ™ conversion.)

Is that what the fortune teller told them?? 'Push fire button'?? I hope it immediately set them on fire.

...But wait...

The hardworking Bletchly girls had compiled their (plume's) report.

Bletchly girl #1: "I'm sorry plume, I simply cannot...I...I'm..."

She places the second and index fingers of her hands to both temples, kneading, in an attempt to waylay the encumberence of thought.

plume: "It's OK...I understand that the 4000 games detailed in that ebay sale is nowhere near to the 22500+ games detailed in 'Gamebase', and the mere thought of that disk-box in the accompanying image containing every C64 game ever created, has just ushered in a little bit of bile from my trachea in to my beautifully formed mouth."

The aging bletchly girls probably all agreed in their minds that I had a beautifully formed mouth.

plume: "THIS IS UTTER BOULDERDASH!"

(Unexpectedly, plume's clenched fist, bound with the rage of 1000 drunken puma's driving tanks, gently tapped at the wooden desk. He didn't want to get a splinter from the nasty and probably, spikey wood.)

"...You may stop your plight girls. To end this, I am thinking about sending a question to the the seller. In question."

Bletchly girl #2: "Please do!"

Bletchly girl #3: "Yes! Please do! for Bletchly girl #2 and I, haven't had a slight to do since we re-programmed 'Colossus'!"

Bletchly girl #2 throws her punch cards into the air in triumphant triumph. It's as if the triumph had made her TURBO triumphant.

Bletchly girl #1: "Wait, what? Did you say 'you've had nothing to do?' Have I been doing all the sodding work here? You bloody cows..."

Me (out of shot) and the hard working Bletchly girls. Just before bloody Dinner arrived. Probably.

Bletchy girl#1's caustic reprimand was rudely interrupted by Dinner.

Dinner, the butler, had entered the room by the rear entrance and immediately apologised for his Interruption.

Dinner the Butler: "I do apologise for my Interruption, he has a tendancy to bark loudly at the sight of punch cards being thrown triumphantly into the air."

Interruption the dog: "WOOF!"

plume: "Where did you come from? Since when did we have a fucking butler? (He then gestured toward the hard-working Bletchly girls.) I'm (they're) trying to decypher the most magical ebay listing presented to the human race since Lance Burton tried to sell himself on ebay as Paul Daniels, hoping that Debbie McGee would buy him, and you are offering us food? Actually, are you offering food? Because you haven't yet."

Dinner the Butler: "Again, my apologies. Sir, Madams...Food has arrived.

Food McLood, the boy waiter, arrived by means of throwing stink-bomb capsuals onto the cracked bathstone-tiled floor of the bomb shelter, thinking they would produce a curtain of smoke from which he could mysteriously emerge from. They didn't. What they did produce was a pungent, sulphuric, shit of a stench.

Food looked decidedly downtrodden and was sick several times in quick succesion while we all watched uncomfortably, before proudly announcing that "Food is Here!" Twice.

Food McLood: "Food is here! And Food is here!"

The boy-waiter continued to present himself, and then actual food. It consisted of two massive silver gastronoms, one filled with the most elegantly spiced Balti ever concieved, and the other with rice so fragrant, that even the most majestic of roses wilted before it. (Both the flower and the selection of cheap Cadburys chocolates.)

Bletchly girl#3: "I aint' eatin' any of that foreign shit."

plume: "Hang on, shouldnt you be talking like an upstanding 1940's flower of the war?"

Bletchly girl#2: "Well yes, but...NO. You employed us unto this ridiculous article, and to be perfectly honest, none of us know what a "Condom Sexty Force computer" actually IS"

Bletchly girl#1: "Where's my munny?"

MUNNY

plume: "God-dammit! I employed you with the understanding that this...this "ebay listing" could be 'completly' decyphered. We have the chance to offer future generations an alternative path. A way of seperating the wheat from the chaff. A way out."

Bletchly girl#3 firmly places her left hand onto plume's shoulder in an assuring manner. It had to be her left hand, as her right was stuffing delicious Balti into her gaping mouth-hole.

Bletchly girl#3: "This muck actually tastes quite peachy. Now get on with the 'Double Drag-act 3' review, you stinking jackanape. "IT'S ONLY A FUCKING GAME."

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BOOOM!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The residual dust from the Axis bombing run gradually subsides outside of the Bletchly encrytption shelter. Eventually, all who were contained within the safe-haven, emerge into the wasteland. 'What they saw has only now, been documented...'

*Geo slowly slips the mask of Bletchly girl#3 off his magnificantly toned face and turns to face plume in the wasteland of War-torn Britain. Bomb-licked houses and plumes of kicked-up, brick-red dust surround them. Geo is dramatically back-curtained by grey smoke, ringing with the cries of the wounded*

Geo: "REMEMBER THIS?..." (He holds up a tape of 'Double Dragon 3' for the Commodore 64, almost crushing it in his bear-like fist, for Geo has fists like bears and speaks in a frighteningly powerful voice, that even Gods fear.)

plume: "Ummmm, yes mate, unfortunately..."

Geo: "I KNOW YOU DO. IT'S SHIT. DO THE FUCKING REVIEW."

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Double Dragon 3 Review

Exactly.