…Yeah, this thing is a) excessive b) ridiculous and c) amazing. The problem is that every Halo game has done less and less for me. I’ll give ODST double-daps for having an engaging narrative, but…I don’t know. I’m skeptical. Let’s put it that way. I’ll buy the game, albeit not this edition. But to spend $150 for the luxurious edition of a game that could be very well “meh”, seems a bit insane.

via kotaku:

With a price of $149.99, the Halo Reach Legendary Edition is one of the pricier collector’s editions we’ve seen, but it certainly isn’t without reason. There’s not mini-plastic cat helmet inside this box. Instead, Bungie commissioned McFarlane Toys to create a 10 inch tall, 10 pound diorama statue featuring the members of Noble Team, the stars of the game.

As if that weren’t enough, the Legendary Edition also comes with a flaming Spartan helmet for multiplayer, as well as all of the contents of the Limited Edition, all packed inside a striking UNSC-themed custom box.

I’m sure when I buy the Mass Effect 3: Erotica Edition that features “Simulated underwear worn by Yeoman Chambers during glorious, glorious, finally achieved sex with female Shepard”, you’ll be able to say the same thing to me.

I know it may sound insane, given all my proclivities for the profane, but I can’t jack the wang to video game characters. For all my proclamations about how god damn sexy Bayonetta’s ass is, or how hot Yeoman Chambers makes me, I can’t take the final step. I can’t go from “Man, she’s hot as fuck” to “I’m unzipping my fly and mashing it.”

It’s weird.

In the world of masturbation, I’ve pretty much run the gauntlet on fetishes. I’ve exhausted every one. I’ve tried everything, and left it behind in pornographic ennui a million-zillion gigabytes later. So I am definitely born to stroke it to oddities. Oh lord, sorry Mom. But yeah, I really am. The thing is though, I’ve never actually wanted to masturbate to a picture of a video game character. There’s nothing wrong with it, but I haven’t.

Sorry those of you who wank to Na’Vi porn, I can’t join your club. And I sort of want to.

I bring this up, because half of our hits at this den of debauchery come from people looking to rub their buttons or titillate their phallus to naked video game characters. Ever since I made the obvious observation that Vanille sounds like a Japanese porn actresses, that post has been crushing it as far as traffic. I mean, you’ve seen the search engine results. “Vanille Nude”, “I Wanna Bury My Face In Bayonetta’s Ass”.

Real people, typing these things.

I actually think it’s sort of cool that people get so geeked up over fictional characters. Maybe it’s because even though I don’t ejaculate to polygons, I am demented. I just picture someone sitting at their keyboard, so fucking horny, and all they want to see is a picture of Lightning from Final Fantasy XIII with the hilt of the Buster Sword up her butt. Or maybe Chris Redfield from Resident Evil making out with Leon Kennedy. I can’t help but be amazed by that sort of shit.

Not appalled. Amazed.

I’m not going to judge the people who are into it, whatever gets your rocks off. If I don’t want people to demean me because sometimes I like to queue up some bisexual lactating orgy, then I’m definitely not going to hate on them because their one desire before they go to bed is to orgasm to the notion of Batman batfucking Superman.

I just can’t imagine the jump though. I was talking Bags, the dude who does all the coding for the site. You can imagine since he’s allied with me he’s also a pervert and a degenerate. You’d be correct. And the two of us, even with our combined perversity, can’t imagine rocking our rocks out to Yuna.

There may have been one time when I was seventeen when I masturbated to a picture of Faye from Cowboy Bebop. I distinctly remember the possibility that it occurred. A decade later, I can’t recall if I had the intent to, or if I actually did. Whatever the case though, those days are gone, like leaves upon trees in winter.

Hats off to you who can, though. I admire your imagination, and ability to take your libido where even I can’t. You are in a rarefied state, and I don’t judge you, but only can praise.

[Search Engine Terms come from an app in the Word Press dashboard. It tells you the terms that people are using in google to lead to your site. Most of ours are ultra depraved and horrible. And amusing to sick people like me.]

Ah, someone suffering from the same plight as me. It seems that everyone who has played through Mass Effect 2 has arrived at the same conclusion: Yeoman Kelly is absolutely gorgeous, cute, not real but that’s okay, intelligent, and I need to bang her.

Well, everything that is worth attaining must be earned. And Yeoman Kelly’s moist goodness is just the same. Stick with it good friend, you’ll pull it off yet. Not that I have, I need to play through the title one more time. Chick hasn’t even made it out of my playthroughs alive yet.

And worst comes to worst, you can settle for sleeping with Jacob. I did.

Here’s the truth, one of my favorite activities in Mass Effect 2 is trying to get into the pants of Yeoman Chambers. She’s the adorable little brunette deckhand who is always telling me when I have messages at my terminal. As well, she always seems to find a reason to be slightly bent over her own computer, inviting the inevitable stare at her bum.

It’s nice.

Nice.

Through one and a half playthroughs of the game, I ain’t had sex with no one. Eerily, this game echoes the majority of my real life. When I first stepped aboard the Normany, I was DTF, man. Down. To. Fuck. I was macking on everyone like I was going to die tomorrow. I was dropping all sorts of sexy cavalier poems in the hopes of getting everyone to see just how fleeting this beautiful life was. We ain’t got time for jibber-jabber, we gotta fuck! I’m poetical, fuck!

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

Carpe diem? I need to carpe that ass!

I think I overplayed my hand, though. I rolled up aboard the Normandy, and I was practically dry-humping the FTL console. Krogans, quarians, men, women, tentacles, it didn’t matter. I wanted that shit. And for that, I will pay the ultimate consequence; Kelly Chambers, obviously of a high quality of virtue and not to be a pawn, won’t talk to me no moh’.

MOTHERFRAKER.

Now? Now I’m stuck probably hate-fucking Jacob. Yeah, I’m playing as a chick, what of it? I’m typical, man. I’m just a dude, who secretly wishes he was a lesbian. I’m like, you know, the other zillion fanboys out there. Jacob’s a nice guy and all, but he really doesn’t do anything for me. Maybe because he looks like Kanye West, or maybe because he’s a void of emotion. Listen, Jacob. I know I hit the town like a fucking gangbuster, and I was practically salivating at the crotch bulge of your super-space-suit, but fuck man, I need to snuggle with whoever I’m tappin’. I know if I settle down with you for some fluid-sloshing, you’re just going to be back in the armory in like ten minutes.

I AM NOT AN OBJECT. Well, I might be, but that’s not all I am.

I’m not going to be complete until I finally consummate my thang with Yeoman Chambers. I don’t care how many playthroughs it takes. I’ll reform. I’ll stop trying to get Thane to meet me in the women’s restroom. Honest. I promise. Because you’re special, Kelly. The rest of those humans, aliens, and artificial lifeforms I’ve been trying to fuck? They’ve just been there to try and take you off my mind.

Xoxo.