Sometimes, a book comes along that seems to redefine the very concepts of fiction. As an author, Dan Simmons was a veritable unknown to me until fairly recently. In the past few months, I’ve read four books that attempt to outline humanity and the nature of the universe itself. Up until now, I would have said my favorite author was Frank Herbert of Dune fame, or possibly George R. R. Martin with his yet unfinished Song of Ice and Fire series.

Final Fantasy X-2, the latest offering from Square-Enix (formerly Squaresoft) could make a seventy eight year old strung-out five dollar whore jealous of the pure level of suck it has managed to accomplish. Considering I actually enjoyed Final Fantasy X, playing the sequel is like feeding my massive wang into a meat grinder and slowly turning the handle for hours while pouring a mixture of salt and battery acid on the festering wound, then lighting the resulting chum on fire and serving the flambe to my mother for her birthday.

Please, take a look at: this crazy crap. This song has what the DDR community commonly refers to as gallops. Not just any gallops, but 1/16th note gallops through the entirety of the song. For a minute and a half, a player has to somehow pound out nearly 500 steps - that’s over five steps per second. I’ve been playing for a while, as my overly large calves will attest, but I can barely keep up with this song in training mode at a speed setting of 1 out of 5.

The holidays have finally spent themselves in a turgid eruption of parties, family gatherings, and prodigious amounts of ruptured corpses littering the streets, hemorrhaging a chunky sludge of turkey, potatoes, stuffing, and gravy. Though I did succumb temporarily to the sweet beckoning of various confectionery and caloric temptations, my unbreakable DDR addiction has kept everything under control. Jen has once again fed my video gaming addiction with Final Fantasy X-2. Though it was off to a rocky start due to the complete lack of an introduction to the story.

A few years ago, an eccentric post graduate was mindlessly tossing four or five credit card applications, an entire newspaper worth of local fliers, and seven announcements that he’d already won a million dollars, into a precarious heap looming menacingly over the couch. The history of the internet was written that day, as he unwittingly sat down under the comfortable shade offered by the seemingly innocuous pile of otherwise useless envelopes and inky print stock, prompting a torrential cascade to wash over him.