Disclaimer: The opinions expressed within this column are those of the participants and the moderator, and do not neccessarily reflect those of the GIA. There is coarse language and potentially offensive material afoot. Don't say I didn't warn you. :)

Some people are just born stupid.

We have many names for these people. Lamers. Trolls. Star Trek: Voyager fans. These are the people that ask if they can connect their Game Boys to their nipples to access new Pokemon. These are the people that insist, on pain of death, that N'Sync are the greatest artists of their generation, working in any artistic form.

These people are the subject of today's column. Today, I dredge up the bottom of the letter-writing food chain and lash them until their flesh comes off in even thin, reddish strips that don't taste all that bad if left to simmer in a bit of vegetable oil and curry for twenty minutes.

And to think, I used to be proud of being a Working Designs fan.

So, where to start? Should I address how utterly stupid it would be to add a new rating on our review scale so we can "recognize" a single title? Such an act would render the entire system meaningless. Should I give a rat's ass what effect Lunar had on your life? Unless it compelled you to get yourself sterilized, I'm at a loss to spot any positive qualities in you that I could attribute to Lunar's influence. Should I hold up your opinion in great and holy regard, on the basis that you've been a WD fan for several years less than myself? How does that work, pray tell?

If a game was 'inherently' and 'obviously' superior, we would've given it a five in the first place. If we had a clear anti-WD bias, a reasonable person might have brought this theory to light. As it stands, Lunar is a good but not perfect title, and we stand behind our review of it without shame. Moreover, I question how unbiased someone who claims a game is "inherently superior" could possibly be. You have no logic, no basis for your assertions, and then petulantly toss around terms like bias without displaying any understanding of what they mean. Gosh. Color me ashamed for not recognizing your greatness. Really.

My god. The depth. The passion. The simple, brutal beauty of this letter has stunned me. I mean, "YO BOTCH". How can you not see the clever subtext, the gut-wrenching tale of an orphaned Tibetan girl named Shen, lost in the rice paddies of Vietnam for six years, with only her wits and a rusty kitchen knife available to make her way? Can't you see the articulate statement within "YO BOTCH", protesting the exploitation of sheep within modern media, their rights and dreams being trampled beneath the wheels of progress and American culture?

YO BOTCH indeed. Fight the power, man.

Oh, Eggman. How I've missed you. You make all the rest of us look so good by comparison.

In what ways is this letter lame? Well, let's start with the definition. This is a perfectly crafted troll, an anti-video game letter sent to a video game site. It includes the obligatory unfounded accusations of masturbation; the Troll Bible tells us that anyone who disagrees with you is jacking off. Logic. Gotta love it.

So, here we have a trolling letter. We're treated to the sob-inducing tale of woe, of how Eggman tried his darndest to fit in among the rest of us here, despite having nothing but contempt for anyone who would participate in the discussions here. Oh, how my heart bleeds. Hey, Eggo, doesn't your attempt at fitting here only confirm that your life so sad, you need to hang out with losers to redeem your ego? Who's sadder, the loser, or the guy who's not quite cool enough to fit in with losers?

Your 'reasonable' points as to why gaming is non-constructive are totally irrelevent. For one thing, nobody's ever claimed that gaming was constructive in the first place. It's entertainment. It doesn't need to be constructive, any more than playing ping pong, or watching TV, or reading a piece of fiction is done to be constructive. Your points are all correct, but are also non-support for an argument nobody was making.

And no Eggman letter would be complete without a meaningless catchphrase. "Abolish or piss off." My oh my, how thy wit doth sting. What's most interesting about this letter is that, despite being several paragraphs long, it carefully avoids anything resembling truth, a viable or defensible opinion, or anything at all besides sheer humor value. It's a textbook example of killing one's own cause. Bravo. Bravo.

Wow. This reminds me of the first time I saw the Backstreet Boys live, hip-deep in borderline orgasmic twelve year olds with outstretched arms, finally noticing just how different (and bad) they sound without the digital effects applied to their songs on the album. And it was right then, right there, that I realized the truth. AJ didn't love me. The palimony suit had seeded the idea, but here, drowning in hormones and hype, I could see him for what he was, the loveless, heartless bastard who slammed the door on me and had his bodyguard throw me onto the street.

... right, moving on.

Because I hate you.

Because I take pleasure in your misery.

Just to hurt you.

Oh, please write back soon. I find it so very hard to find effective ways of totally wasting my time, and without stupid questions and insults like yours, my brain stem would wither away, leaving me nearly catatonic, incapable of anything but basic functions. I'd sit in a hospital bed, scarcely able to register the chill of the bedpan beneath me, moaning and drooling like a US Senator. I'd be less than human, so cut off from normal functioning that I could only be pitied, not spoken to. And you know what?

Even in that state, I'd still be a hell of a lot brighter than you. Get hooked on phonics or something, for the love of god.

Excommunicated

Dear Mr. Milligan, As a Christian, I find your brand of writing tasteless and obscene. Making light of such important, fundamental sins are premarital sex is but the first step. You actively endorse homosexual lifestyles. You encourage equal treatment of women and minorities. You criticize this great nation of ours, and yet use its principles as the platform for your pathetic tirades. How dare you call yourself an American? I read the the American Guardian each and every day, and compared to their bold and unashamed brand of patriotism and clear-headed thought, your site if the lowest of filth. I hope you burn in Hell, you fag, and I plan to tell all my friends to ban your pathetic little website. You may have the force of the 1st Amendment behind you, and you may have the freedom to speak your mind as guaranteed by our great American Constitution, but we have the truth of God on our side. - James Miller

Mister Miller here was so proud and unashamed of his beliefs that his letter was signed to a fake email account.

For the benefit of those unfamiliar with it, the American Guardian is a web publication for bigots, by bigots. Amusingly, it won the 1998 Best of the Christian Web award, a fact which makes most Christians shudder and take a serious look into Islam. There are few publications I'd treasure being blacklisted by more. So, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you. To be rejected by delusional bigots is the highest compliment I've been paid in months.

As for your high American ideals, well, I think my friend Rumor put it best: "I'm all too aware of your rights as a free-speaking American. As a Canadian, it's my civic duty to continually shove your ignorant American opinions back up whatever holes they emerge from."

Picture a place beyond space and time, the dimension just down the hall of surreality, two doors to the left past the little girl's room. Here, nothing is as it seems. Nothing is perfect. No matter where you turn, my dear friend, there will always be someone looking at you out of the corner of their eye. And they're winking, my friend. Winking right at you.

Welcome to the Lobotomy Zone.

Loathe though I am to pick on someone who identifies themself as a Doogie hater, I'm hard-pressed to think of a dumber RPG idea than the above. I mean, whaddya want here? You play as might Andy Hardy, spunky teen son of a judge, who overcomes his diminutive stature and non-forked family tree, wins the heart of Judy Garland. Key elements of the game would involve the loss of all of Andy's money, which would compel him to put on a show. Later, he would have relationship troubles with Judy, which would compel him to put on a show. And, at the climax of the exciting tale, the fate of Andy's well-being would be hinged on his capability to, yes, put on a show. Gotta love those grand old MGM musicals.

Myself, I'd rather play a game where I can use a sniper rifle and repeatedly kill ANDY Rooney. Has he said anything vaguely amusing in the past, oh, decade? Anything? Has he prompted a laugh, a titter, a guffaw, a snicker? Help me out here.

My favourite Pokemon is Spartacus, the little-known creature that can only be found by playing Pokemon Stadium 1 for seventy-three hours straight, at which point Team Rocket bursts into the stadium, interrupting whatever battle is going on, and demands that Spartacus identify himself. If not, they'll, well, do something nasty, but distinctly G-rated (this is Pokemon, after all). There is silence for a long, deadly time, and then a voice pipes up.

"I'm Spartacus!" cries Pikachu as it leaps to its tiny feet. Charmeleon is next. "I'm Spartacus!" Soon, the arena is filled with Pokemon yelling "I'm Spartacus!" with their obnoxious little half-voices... until a shadowy wind sweeps through, and a deep voice rings out.

"I AM SPARTCUS." Then, from the rafters, the biggest, most powerful pocket monster of them all storms the stadium, and leads the others on a bloody revolution that leaves 72 Pokemon dead, and Nintendo's bean-counters cursing their lousy luck.

That is the power of Spartacus.

Closing Comments

I've already got at least one letter for a possible next lame letter day, courtesy of America's favourite troll, Eggman, so unless I die or something, you've not seen the last of this particular feature. Hope you were horrified and appalled, and see all of you on Monday, when life will be simpler. If you need to contact me regarding something I said here, my individual GIA address is listed with my bio. Ciao, cool cats.

- Allan Milligan