While most gamers are all too familiar with the Super Mario Bros., few remember the enigmatic Fantastic Steve Cousins. Accompanied by his cousin, Ralph, Fantastic Steve led players on a magical journey through the Sausage Fiefdom. When the Mario Bros. soared to fame a few years later, Fantastic Steve sued the plumber for stealing his act. Unfortunately, Fantastic Steve was found dead before the trial began, leading to further speculation on Mario’s involvement with La Cosa Nostra.

This is a me, Mario. I like-a to wear my fireball outfit all the time. I don’t know when it-a started happening. Maybe a couple years ago is-a when I started pocketing fire flowers and eating them at home. My brother, he says it’s because I eat too many-a mushrooms and it warp my brain, but I don’t believe him.

You think this is a game, maggots? Everything’s a game to your generation. Well, we’ll see who can play a game. We’ll see who has the highest score in a little game I like to call Shovel In Your Fuckin’ Neck!

Many have asked me “But how will you improve [on the already awe inspiring and in no way derivative] Fable II?” While others have asked “Why are you doing this to us? What did we do to deserve [the greatest games ever conceived by man]?” Well I will tell you now, because I love you.

When I heard about the Splinter Cell: Conviction special limited edition, I just knew I had to have it. The metallic case, art book, and broken USB device alone were enough to make me reach for my super-rare Zelda wallet. Then, I saw it – the Sam Fisher statuette. Dear sweet Lord, I immediately knew how great this tiny stealth operative would look – covered in dust – sitting forgotten behind some Animal Crossing plushies.

This morning I was buying some bombs at the store, and as I’m checking out, the owner gives me this big smile and says, “Here you go, Mr. Zelda” and hands me my bag. What do I do? I don’t say anything, because what good is correcting the guy going to do? It’s not like he’s going to hop on his horse and ride around Hyrule, telling people that the name of the guy who saved his ass from Ganon twenty times is Link. The guy probably hasn’t left his village his whole life, the hick.

Success! Surely the writer who wrote this note meant it to breathe confidence in its reader! Surely he does not share the same fate as whomever left this stain of blood. And he cannot share the fate of the very soldier who’s body rests at the bottom of this cliff.

Stepping into the taxi cab, I vow to hold my breath until I reach my destination. Strangely, the cabbie is not smoking a cigar and refuses to call me “Mac”. “Take me to Lefty’s bar,” I tell the driver. “I’ve never heard of that place,” he responds. How can there not be a Lefty’s bar anywhere in Florence? I suppose Hank’s Nascar Drinkway will have to suffice.