So You're Now a Mech Warrior
OK, so I may be in a little over my head here.
What is your head in specifically? Trouble? Deep? The shit?
It's in a very complicated and expensive-looking helmet.
Like a crown?
No, an actual helmet. Someone from the government told me that I'm the only hope for humanity and that I had to go with him right away.
"Someone from the government"? Like a park ranger?
No. He was wearing a suit.
Like a park ranger's ... boss?
It wasn't a park ranger. He took me to a building and to this chair with this helmet, and then they said a giant space lizard was attacking the city and that the government had a special robot that only I could drive. Then there were some forms to sign and here I am.
OK. So what's happening here is it sounds like the government is rounding up vagrants for experimental drug trials again.
You don't believe me?
How could you be the only one who could pilot this robot? What special qualities do you have? Aside from, and I'm still convinced this is the case, being massively dosed with hallucinogens?
I think it might be all those years of playing video games.
Which makes you about as unique as a hundred million other people. The government will already have people working for them who have played the same amount of video games as you, but are also highly trained fighter pilots.
Maybe they don't have my moxie?
You didn't ask, did you?
If someone offered you the opportunity to drive a giant robot, would you try to stop them?
What is it about using a giant robot to punch their enemies that is so appealing to young men? Is it the deep-seated rage they feel at the world? Is it that desire to climb inside another being and recapture some feeling they've longed for since leaving the womb? Or is it something weird?
They said the robot was left here hundreds of years ago by some powerful aliens, who left it behind to protect us in our darkest hour. It has something called an Epsilon Drive that only people from a certain bloodline can operate.
And so you, a man with no special skills other than ingesting massive quantities of LSD ...
I'm not high.
... are the only one who can save the planet from a giant space lizard.
If I can turn this thing on, that is.
It's not even on?
The briefing was quite ... brief. I'd ask them, but there's some weird static sound in the helmet's radio.
Are there any joysticks or, I don't know, handlebars in front of you?
Or one of these things?
Nope. Is that bad?
That's good, actually. It implies this giant robot works via some sort of mind-control technology, probably through that giant helmet you're wearing. Reach around on it and see if there's a power switch or something.
Are you sure?
OK, here goes. OWWWWWWWW!
Did it hurt?
I was worried that would happen.
YOU SPECIFICALLY SAID IT COULDN'T HURT.
I meant that figuratively. It could literally hurt, obviously.
FUCK YOU. Ahh, my brain.
Does it have kind of a powerful electricity feeling in it?
Yeah, that'd be electricity then. OK, let's try ... not that again. This time, maybe just try to manually adjust your brain to sync up with the robot's controls.
How do I do that again?
Just think about it really hard, I guess.
Are you sure?
You motherf- It worked! Everything's coming online. Arms. Legs. Oh shit!
The robot's shit came online?
No! The space lizard's coming!
What? Where are you?
In the city already. I rode up on some kind of massive elevator. And the giant space lizard is menacing me.
Like it's shaking its fist at you?
"If it isn't my ancient enemy, a massive fucking robot."
No, it's slowly advancing on me.
Punch it in its weak spot!
What's its weak spot?
I thought you played video games.
Nothing's, like, glowing red or anything.
Does it have a crotch?
Punch it there!
If you take any Godzilla movie and replace the second half with Earth tanks shooting repeatedly at its crotch,
you will end up with a better Godzilla movie.
Here goes ... WHOA.
It fell down then disappeared in a flash of blue light.
That's a hell of a punch.
Three more lizards just appeared. But they're not attacking. They're just watching me. Waiting for me to attack? What the hell is going on here?
I'm, like, 80 percent sure this isn't real.
None of it makes any sense. What the hell is the point of a giant robot anyways?
For ... defending freedom?
Sure, but there are easier ways to do that. The bipedal body shape is a very practical solution for a human-sized thing made of bones and meat. But thanks to the square-cube law it stops working as well as it gets bigger. And even if we replace the bones and muscles with steel and fishing line, there are so many other problems with large, walking, combat machines. Compared to something like a tank, they're slower, harder to armor, and have a preposterously large surface area to hit. There's no reason this thing should even exist.
"I SHOULD NOT BE, LITTLE ONES."
Maybe the aliens who made it didn't know about ...
Hyper advanced aliens didn't understand materials science? They put the helmet on you before they showed you the robot, right? This is probably just one of those really fancy virtual reality helmets that totally exist now, because this is apparently the future.
That sucks. Giant robots are so cool.
They are, aren't they? And I think that's exactly what's going on here. The government is, as always, looking for ways to pacify the chumps. They've created a VR system that is capable of reading the juvenile fantasies we have and delivering them to us. It may even be extracting power from them, drawing upon the pent-up rage still left over from your adolescence. Imagine a Matrix built upon the childish hero-fantasies of all the nerds in the world.
It realized I wanted to drive a giant robot around and made it happen?
If you were a different sort, I bet you'd be here saving a cheerleader from bullies, or beating up your dad, or saving your dad from cheerleaders.
Which means ...
You're not the test pilot. You're the power source. You are the Epsilon Drive.
I don't want to be an Epsilon Drive.
Too late. You're trapped in the Wiener Matrix now. That's why it zapped you when it thought you were trying to take the helmet off.
So how do I get out of here?
Are you sure you want to go? Being a permanent hero in the Wiener Matrix might be kind of fun. Did you have a lot else going on in your life?
I have some things on the DVR ...
MasterChef won't watch itself.
OK. If you're sure you want to leave the Wiener Matrix ...
You're not doing a great job selling it.
Then let's see if we can try overloading it. Stop giving it juvenile fantasies to feed on. Give it more mature ones.
Like ... saving for my future?
You're going to ask me to fuck that lizard, aren't you?
I ... oooooh. Would you be willing to do that?
Because you suggested it quite readily. No? Fine. OK, if you're in a giant robot in a simulated city full of apartment buildings and such, then go look in some windows of buildings for women changing their clothes.
That's it. This should overload the juvenile filters of the system, or, at minimum, look really embarrassing when this whole mess makes it in front of a congressional oversight committee.
OK. Here goes.
-some time passes-
How's it going?
This simulation is surprisingly detailed. But most of the women I'm seeing are shrieking and running away.
Seeing any pink bits?
Nah. Just a couple bra straps.
Well start rubbing yourself anyways. That will also definitely probably help overload the system. What are the space lizards doing during all of this?
They're watching me intently. And ... wait! I smell smoke!
Yes! That means, probably, that you're overloading the Epsilon Drive with your mature fantasies.
This doesn't feel very mature to me.
This is a normal part of a robot growing up.
Wait. The space lizards are conferring with each other. They're motioning for me to stop.
Don't stop. Never stop.
The lizards are saying -- in English? -- that they have decided to spare our planet.
That sounds like good news.
But that we'll be placed under quarantine for 1,000 space years because we are clearly mentally enfeebled perverts.
While still rubbing your crotch, ask what the conversion rate between earth years and space years is.
They disappeared in a flash of light.
So let's say seven, then.
The static in my helmet is clearing up. I can hear people talking.
The aliens must have been jamming it.
The voices are asking what the hell I thought I was doing.
Tell them that you're trying to culture hack the Wiener Matrix. They'll know what that means.
They really don't.
Explain it then.
They're saying this definitely isn't a simulation.
I was worried about that.
YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT LOTS OF THINGS YOU DON'T FUCKING TELL ME.
I guess so, huh?
They're saying that the government and the president are really mad at me for masturbating our only giant robot in front of the aliens.
I bet lots of people are mad about that.
They're telling me to return the robot to the hangar.
Well yeah. If it's a real giant robot, then it's super valuable. And you clearly can't be trusted with it.
Because I jerked it off in a major city?
Correct. And congratulations! You have completed this guide and are no longer fighting aliens in a giant robot. Should you desire any further assistance, please consult our guide So You're Now on Trial for Being the World's Biggest Pervert.
Chris Bucholz is a Cracked columnist and does not recommend doing anything he has ever recommended you do. Join him on Facebook or Twitter to discuss this seemingly irreconcilable conundrum.