Apparently being a friggin' beast master is a viable career path.
Instead of dropkicking Super Mutants into frag mines, I'm spending my apocalypse scrounging materials to build the perfect armchair for my dining set.
I take intelligent criticism to heart, but I even try to find value in the ... less than brilliant stuff that is so prevalent here on the Internet. And I think I can help everybody do the same.
I've never understood online gaming: I got into games to get away from people, now you want me to voluntarily share my lush fantasy worlds with some guy named Dave? Up yours, Dave.
Cracked is a genie, and it is here to grant you an arbitrary number of wishes, depending on its mood and how drunk you get it before asking.
So, here it is -- the day I never thought would come. But please believe me when I say: I am sorry, Mario Lopez.
Good horror is all about atmosphere, which is why setting is so important.
This particular theory pertains to two things that are very near and dear to me: Horror movies, and your genitalia.
Ladies, I realize this might be a hard article to relate to, but if it helps, you can pretend I'm talking about the volvo or the lamia. (I don't know a lot about biology. Or women.)
Once again, Japan is ahead of us in everything: robots, boning, boning robots -- and now TV suitable for the collapse of society.