My spray-painted pixel Mario, NES-style, hanging in my office.  Now THAT’S professionalism!

My boss jokingly asked if I wanted to trade jobs, and all I could think about was the time Zack became principal and Mr. Belding became a student.

In lieu of standard birthday Facebook posts, I asked my friends to draw stick-figure drawings for me.  This is what I got:

Yep, my friends are awesome.

Click the picture for better quality!

For a minute, let’s forget about discussing the evolution of video games.  People need to start talking about the transformation of video game box art.

Let’s rewind.  It’s 1991 — I’m 6-years old.  I still have hair.  Life consists of the 1st grade, Sunny D, baseball, attempting to do the impossible and touch the top of the door frame in our living room, Ninja Turtles, TGIF, and video games.  Anything else is irrelevant.

I remember walking with my parents through the Hawthorne Mall (which, by the way, I swear still needs to be re-opened) and convincing them to take us to KB Toys.  I’d walk by the video game display and would have absolutely no idea what I was looking for.  There was no way of knowing which of the games before me were awesome, and which were awful.  There was no ability to go into Google, type in “top 10 NES video games”, and use that to determine what I’d buy.  The closest thing we had was Nintendo Power — and I assure you, there was no way in hell my dad was going to spend money on a magazine subscription that would enable what he likely deemed was an addiction, slowly rotting my brain.

Nintendo Power – Reader’s Digest for Kids

I essentially walked into this store, knowing absolutely nothing.  I had no idea what the new releases were.  I had no clue which game was the top seller, which games were highly recommended by professional reviewers, or any idea about future releases.  I could stand in front of this window into 6-year-old heaven, staring for hours at all the fresh, shiny boxes, trying to figure out what I wanted.  If my parents bought me a game, I knew I wouldn’t get a new one for months — so it had better be good.  So how did a young kid decide which game he wanted to take home?

Simple.  The box art.

When the NES first came out, box art likely wasn’t as important, considering the limited number of games available to the public.  Older games could simply blow up an image of the in-game graphics, slap it over a solid color background, and you were set.  You’d see something like this and know exactly what type of game you were in for:

No surprises here.

Over time (and after the market was flooded with a large number of NES games), box art needed to stand out to sell a game.  It’s my bet that box art became the biggest tool for game advertisement – the better the art, the better the game sold.  I imagine entire advertisement departments were dedicated to box art development.

Funny thing, though — I’d also wager that, at first, there was a huge disconnect between the artists hired for the box art and the game’s developers.  For example, we’ve all played Mega Man (and if you haven’t, punch yourself).  Basic premise of the game: set in the future, an android runs around shooting enemies with his robotic gun-arm thingy.  The result?

Yes, that’s supposed to be Mega Man.

I don’t know about you, but if you actually played the game, this is probably not what you imagined Mega Man looked like.  It’s like some Native American was transported into a computer and teamed up with Tron.  Or as my friend put it, it “looks like an autistic kid drew that with only three colored pencils.”  Well put.  That being said, as a 6-year old kid looking through the display case at a toy story, this probably triggers all the “do-whatever-it-takes-to-get-your-parents-to-buy-this” parts of your brain.

Sure, you had your cute platformers that didn’t require ultra-realistic artwork to get their point across.  However, it seemed that many companies wanted to give the impression that you were taking control of powerful heroes.  You weren’t playing a game, you were saving a freakin’ planet.  You were no child … you were a MAN.  And really, what better way to create this feeling in your customers than by hiring Fabio to pose as the protagonist of the video game.  Ohhh, you think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not:

I’d bet moms bought this game in droves.

It’s hard to imagine some celebrity posing as the main character in some video game.  But this is what used to sell video games.

However, games evolved just about as quickly as the technology they were using.  Along with this change in technology, there was a change in attitude.  Video games were no longer quick distractions made for kids; instead, they became stories in which the player was integral to the story.  There’s no longer this need to focus on the box art when the entire game itself is a work of art.  What’s more, now that the internet is everywhere, we know what we want as soon as we walk into the store.  Hell, we all want things before we even know what they are or what they can do (I’m looking at you, Apple fanatics).

Box art just isn’t as important and, quite frankly, it shows.  Compare the two items below — Bionic Commando for the NES vs. Bionic Commando for the PS3:

NES Version vs PS3 Version of Bionic Commando

The image on the left just screams at you — THIS GAME IS BADASS.  There’s a story being told, and it makes me want to know more.  The picture on the right, on the other hand, just makes me think that the game I’m about to buy stars a metrosexual with nice hair and a microwave for an arm.  Great drawing, sure.  But it doesn’t say anything.

I think it’s fantastic where games are today.  But a little part of me can’t help but be nostalgic for a time when I’d stand in front of a glass display, admiring all the work that went into selling a game.

Women: it’s no secret that men are horrible at shopping for the right gift.  Hundreds of thousands of years of evolution have created a hard-nosed, testosterone-fueled breed of warriors, leaders, athletes, hunters, fighters, meat-eaters … pretty much the people responsible for all the cool (and horrible) stuff in the world.  If our evolutionary lineage caused us to become fantastic gift shoppers, I’m 99.9999% sure that we’d be ruled by our lion overlords at this very moment.

So yeah, you really can’t blame us.  The next time your boyfriend / husband / father takes Chuck Norris’s advice and gives you the Total Gym for Christmas, be sure to smile and thank him.

Merry Christmas.

That being said, we also know that hundreds of thousands of years of evolution have created a hard-nosed, estrogen-fueled breed of women who ignore logic and will pretty much hate you for the rest of your miserable life for ruining their Christmas by buying a horrible gift.  As men, we understand this.  There’s no way of getting around it, and year after year we cringe at the thought of trying to read the female mind.

Well this year, you’re in luck, fellas.

I present you with the Christmas Guide for Men!

Click the picture for better quality!

After years of research and thousands of man-hours, I’ve put together this guide to help both you and me choose the right gift.  It’s very easy to use — determine your current status on the left, find the check mark within an appropriate gift category, and get to shopping.  Here are some findings from our research:

Christmas Guide for Men

1.  Feces, when presented appropriately, is a perfect gift for that special enemy and/or ex-wife.

2.  Never buy perfume for a female friend.  She will read this gift as a message from you stating one of two things: (a) “I think you stink” or (b) “I want to be more than just friends.”

3.  A pearl necklace is the only acceptable gift for a friend with benefits (thus the yes / no in the jewelry category).  Other than this, no gifts whatsoever are to be exchanged.  Noncompliance with this rule will only lead to commitment.

4.  A car is rarely, if ever, an appropriate gift.  Buying a car for your wife is the only possibility and, even then, this is iffy.  Proceed with caution.

5.  If you have been in a relationship for more than ten years, do not buy her any gifts.  You will never marry her.  Save your money and cut your losses.

6.  A gift card redeemable for sexy time is surprisingly effective.

7.  A house is never an appropriate gift.  It will only serve as a reminder of how stupid you were for thinking your relationship could outlast a house.  There are houses standing from the 1700s.  Just don’t.

8.  Gifts decrease at an exponential rate when in a relationship, while expectations for gifts grow inversely. (credit to Steve O for this one)

Men, I truly hope that this provides some relief when out shopping this holiday season.

If not, may God help us all.

Click the picture for better quality!

Who needs a book report?

I’ve decided to take some time this weekend and carve a pumpkin with this stenciled on it.  Some things that immediately come to mind:

1.  Have I ever carved a pumpkin?  (No.)

2.  Will alcohol be involved when carving this pumpkin?  (Absolutely.)

3.  Do these things matter?  (Probably.)

4.  Will I let that stop me?  (NOPE.)

Pumpkin carving challenge … ACCEPTED!  Stay tuned for the results!

I had a great laugh today seeing what search terms have led people to Cain’s Brain.  Type in any of the following, and you just may end up on my page:

My personal favorite is “fart face”.  Though, to be fair, all the pickle searches are great, too.

I miss the cheesy action films & TV shows from the 80′s / early 90′s.

Back in those days, people actually had original ideas.  Sure, they were ridiculously simplistic ideas, sometimes to the point of mind-numbing stupidity … but dammit, they were original.  You really didn’t mind if the story wasn’t that great, or if the acting was a little on the sloppy side, you just wanted to be able to cheer for the protagonist.  Here’s a perfect example:

Original Idea #1 in 12 Steps

1.  Hero’s daughter is kidnapped by Villain.

2.  Villain demands that Hero kill a political target in exchange for daughter’s life.

3.  Hero agrees reluctantly, is taken aboard a plane to fly to target country.

4.  Hero escapes through some form of badassery (in this instance, killing all on-board and jumping out of plane mid-takeoff).

5.  Hero proceeds to target country.  Plane not needed.

6.  Hero kills 1,487 enemy personnel with 1 machine gun, 3 grenades, 1 knife.  Hero takes no damage.

7.  Hero’s shirt is ripped off, revealing ridiculously enlarged / oiled-up muscles.

8.  Hero flexes, yells.

9.  Hero is hurt by Villain.

10.  Just kidding, just a scratch.  Hero kills Villain in a testosterone-induced, extremely violent, man-overload.

11.  Hero hugs daughter.  Possibly kisses new love interest he’s picked up along the way.

12.  Roll credits.

Simple.  I mean, this idea was probably created in the 5 minutes it took the writers to take their morning dumps.  End result?

I mean, how can you say NO to a movie with the tagline: “Somewhere, somehow, someone’s going to pay”?  I mean, that tagline answers all important questions I had about this film:

Who?  Answer:  Someone.

What?  Answer:  Will pay.

Where?  Answer:  Somewhere.

How?  Answer: Somehow.

When?  Answer:  Whenever Arnold chooses.

Why?  Answer:  Because Arnold said so.

Commando should have won 10 Academy Awards, 5 of which needed to be created just for this movie.  If you need evidence depicting Arnold’s Best Actor-deserving performance, well here you go:

Just for the hell of it (and to further prove my point), here’s another example:

Original Idea #2 in 5 Steps

1.  Hero Trains.

2.  Hero Does Splits.

3.  Hero Fights.

4.  Hero is Blinded.

5.  Hero Still Wins.

End Result?

Bloodsport.  It’s shown over-and-over-and-over again on basic cable TV for a reason:  it’s just that good.  Words cannot convey just how manly I feel when I watch this movie.  Suffice it to say, if the movie’s protagonist, at any point in the movie, does this:

…then he should win some award.  I don’t care if they give him a certificate printed using Microsoft Publisher, a half-eaten bag of Skittles and a pair of Crocs.  Do it.

Nowadays, lots of movies are just reproductions of someone else’s idea.  Transformers = 80′s cartoon.  G.I. Joe = 80′s cartoon.  Watchmen = 80′s graphic novel.  Terminator Salvation = more Terminator.  Sometimes, it works.  It’s my guilty pleasure — I’ll bitch and moan about it, but I’ll still watch it.  But I absolutely hate it when some douchebag director decides that they can portray this iconic idea better than the original creators intended.  I mean, come on.  Here’s the G.I. Joe I grew up with:

I mean, that’s just a bunch of heroes, there.  Real American Heroes.  You’ve got Flint with his hands on his hips, showing off his ripped biceps, with an aura of good ‘ole American about him.  You’ve got Snake Eyes standing about just looking like he’s ready to put the hurt on somebody.  Roadblock is chilling in the back, wearing a camo top with a definitely-not-camo bottom, waiting to kick some anti-American ass.  Not sure what Scarlette’s doing.  And Duke is apparently all for black power.  Awesome.

As you can see, it’s a diverse bunch.  So what did the movie do?

First off, I immediately knew this movie was going to be one big pile of suck when I learned that G.I. Joe would no longer stand for “Government Issued” Joe.  Instead, G.I. Joe was now G.I.J.O.E., or “Global Integrated Joint Operating Entity.”  Stupid.  Stupid * infinity.

Second … what the hell are they wearing?  I do not want my heroes saving the world while still wearing last-night’s bondage session outfit.  Go change and put on some camo, dammit.  These are the wussiest looking heroes ever.  Don’t believe me?  Here’s Cartoon Duke:

The guy is a beast.  It seems as though he’s just parachuted into Hades itself, blowing away scores of America-hating demons.  If you drank this man’s sweat, you would instantaneously grow a beard and chest hair, regardless of gender.  And now, the person they cast for the role:

Really?  This guy?  He couldn’t scare off a group of Girl Scouts trying to sell him some cookies.  In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen his picture up in an Abercrombie store before:

So please.  Please.  If any person in Hollywood, or anyone with any connections to people in Hollywood, reads this, do us all a favor: bring back the originality.  Stop thinking that you’re better than a classic.  You’re not.