• Join The Fed
• Advertise with The Fed

• About Us
• Contact

In This Issue

• Jem and the Holograms Suck Major Holo-Ass
• Students Get Involved, Eat Pizza
• Kids Aren't Worth It
• Can You Tell Me How To Get, How to Get to HIV
• Corporation Brightens Otherwise Bleak Childhood
• B'nai Mitzvot of Yore
• Cap'n Planet Saves World, Gouges You
• Bad Street Brawler Jerks Off Crime Off the Streets
• Science Proves America's Youth Turning Japanese
• On the Glorious Afterschool Special
• Chicken Soup for the Athletically Inept Soul
• A Researched Dildography
• Rider Strong Gets Stalked, Interviewed, Married
• Furry is the Way to Be

Much has been made of the deviant sexual subtexts in many Nintendo games. With that being said, there is nothing subtextual about Bad Street Brawler. According to the instruction manual, you play an "ex-punk rocker" who, in an attempt to atone for his lifestyle, has abandoned his music to beat up strangers while appareled in yellow hot pants with matching muscle shirt, flattop, and sneakers.

Now, let's pause for a second. If you were a parent of an impressionable youngster who was playing this game in the late 80's, which lifestyle would you rather have him follow? Would it be better for Junior to become 1) a punk, who sits around all day and listens to terrible music, or 2) Bad Street Brawler, the super-violent jock who kicks the living bejesus out of everyone who doesn't also resemble a fruity aerobics instructor? If you chose 2), then both the game designers and I would agree with you. Man, punks are worse than Nazis!

After a brief training scene come the baddies. Your opponents come in several varieties: red mustachioed midget strongman, blue mustachioed midget strongman, ape, heroin addict, bulldog, skateboarder with helmet and pads, and the dreaded albino breakdancer. And they all hate you. As far as I can tell, a tornado whipped through an all-ages show, Beat Street consolation showdown, and three-ring circus, and then deposited its confused, angry, simian victims on Bad Street. Bad move, Mr. Tornado.

Your special moves change every level, always getting slightly more inexplicable...and erotic. In fact, a certain level uses a move called "trip," which is clearly the slang term used on Bad Street for "jerking off your enemies until they die." Yes, kids, that most soulless form of sexual congress is now a lethal weapon: after activating "trip," your enemy lies on the ground, and your hand uses two whole frames of animation to move up and down over the enemy's abdomen. Then, he DIES!

If you don't feel like fighting, that's OK too. You can keep mincing briskly until you reach the end of the level, and your enemies won't bother you once. This leads me to believe that most of your "enemies" would like nothing more than to return nonviolently to the Misfits show, junkie alley, or animal cage whence they came. Stop harassing them, Bad Street Brawler! I have found that releasing the peace AND just saying no have gotten me out of many a tight spot (although attempts to "peace it together" have failed miserably). Perhaps Bad Street Brawler would do well to try the same. Or he could at least get a more dignified crimefighting outfit.

In sum, Bad Street Brawler is definitely worth the time that it takes to download your typical 96-kilobyte Nintendo game. And if the game alone doesn't sell you, just focus on the soul-soothing maxims that introduce every level. My personal favorite is the first one: never trouble trouble until trouble troubles you. As I jerked off a midget strongman earlier today, these words rang true more than ever. Thank you, Mr. Brawler, for easing my stress and my soul.