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Impracticality rating: 2/10
What does it do? Um, hit people. It’s basically a glorified stick.
Would be utterly useless in real life because: It’s not, nor has it ever been, a weapon. A real-life conductors baton is simply a small wooden stick. A musical chopstick, if you will. At a push it could work offensively in the right context, but that context would be Manhunt or a hideous gangland statement killing, whereby it would be stabbed into the victim’s eye socket and snapped off.
And combat does not work that way in whimsical anime RPG Eternal Sonata.

Impracticality rating: 2/10
What does it do? Using the strength and momentum of whoever’s wielding it, it swings on a chain to pummel someone IN THE FACE. Or any other region.
Would be utterly useless in real life because: Okay, the thing will smash through a wall of solid ice, but the basic laws of physics dictate that the force required to project a metal ball with the speed required to do so would not come from a slight elfin boy. It would come from a cannon. So you might as well just use a cannon instead.
As an added bonus cannons come on wheels, so they can be easily transported without compacting one’s spine to half of its original length.

Impracticality rating: 3/10
What does it do? After hitting something, it returns back to the thrower. Neat.
Would be utterly useless in real life because: Weaponised boomerangs were used for hunting, i.e. sneaky one-hit takedowns from a hidden position. In open combat, they have absolutely no purpose whatsoever. Once a boomerang hits something, it stops flying. It falls to the ground and categorically does not come back to the user for another throw in the next round.
The only way to make boomerangs practical in sustained battle is by carrying about 50 of them. But to be honest, if you’re going to do that you might as well just pick up rocks off the ground and hurl them at your enemies heads. They’re harder and you don’t have to take them with you afterwards.

Impracticality rating: 4/10
What does it do? Transforms an arm into a gun. Simple.
Would be utterly useless in real life because: The idea of expanding the range of one’s limb-based repertoire with the ability to fire bullets from the wrist sounds like a wonderfully empowering innovation. A literal case of point-and-shoot, allowing you to rain down hot fiery lead upon any who cross you with a mere gesture.
The reality? Machine guns are hard to use. They take a fair amount of effort just to control. In fact they tend to require two fully functioning hand-equipped arms simply to avoid tearing a hole in the ceiling. Of course you could use your spare arm in an attempt to steady the recoil of a gun-arm, but given that the thing you’re attempting to hold still is your bullet-rattling other arm you’d hardly be working at full capacity. Not least when you eventually end up shaking your elbow cartilage to jelly and then discovering that your forearm is riddled with stress fractures.

Impracticality rating: 5/10
What does it do? Uses various prongs at the end of the rods to scratch and maul. Like giant cat claws.
Would be utterly useless in real life because: Egad, where to start with this thing? First up there’s the fact that they look to be constructed from a set of deer antlers on a stick, making them both utterly unwieldy and giving them a fragility rating roughly on a par with that of a glass spider-web. So, a wonky but at-least-sharp hitting-stick then? No. You see Vanille’s rods aren’t used like that. Instead, their primary attack method comes by way of four hooked lines that project from the top of the rod, turning it into a kind of combined whip/flail/scratching device.
Does that sound familiar? Similar to any easily recognisable real-world hunting equipment, perchance? Yes, Vanille is essentially fighting Final Fantasy XIIIs various beasts, monsters, and house-sized bosses with a fishing rod. Go out into the countryside and attack a bear with a fishing rod and see how far you get. Come back and tell us all about how it went. Oh wait, you wont be able to, because bear poo can’t talk.

Impracticality rating: 5/10
What does it do? Its great weight and sharpness slices through anything it comes into contact with – if you can lift it. It’s heavy.
Would be utterly useless in real life because: The Buster Sword is the poster boy for showboating impracticality. Huge, angular, and sporting the kind of heft that could crush a skull just as easily as it could cleave a limb, visually it’s as intimidating as a herd of drunken elephants in football shirts.
Until, that is, you realise that its wielder isn’t so much wielding it as he is dragging it along behind him like a giant, lazy, obstinate St. Bernard which refuses to move and is carrying a bag full of bricks and is also dead. And that any attempt to actually swing the thing will results only in dislocated shoulders or a dislodged or broken spine.

Impracticality rating: 6/10
What does it do? Sets itself on fire. Then the fire does extra damage to whatever it hits.
Would be utterly useless in real life because: Although it would look cool, the flames would do minimal damage compared to the actual puncturing of skin and perforating of organs that the blade would be responsible for. In fact if anything, the fire would slightly cauterise the wound, slowing down bleeding. That’s if you can even swing the thing accurately given how much pain your hand would be in due to the uncanny heat conducting properties of metal.
The main point though is one of post-battle practicality. As soon as you sheathed the thing you’d set your pants on fire. Remember, kids: It’s only a victory if your groin doesn’t require treatment for third-degree burns afterwards.

Impracticality rating: 7/10
What does it do? It might look pretty, but it works rather simply: it just hits things really hard.
Would be utterly useless in real life because: Keyblades by and large are a pretty ridiculous design. For a start, most of them do not actually have blades. Thus, what you’re dealing with is actually a giant, top-heavy metal club. As such, it’s a weapon that’s about as balanced as civil rights debate at a KKK meeting. The Rumbling Rose from Kingdom Hearts II is particularly impractical, being as it is essentially a solid slab of metal with a handle made of chicken wire. Oh, and the handle is covered with metal thorns too, so its actually more like barbed wire.
You know, comfortable, ergonomically designed barbed wire, just like they stuff cushions with.

Impracticality rating: 7/10
What does it do? Grasps and clutches at the air even while it’s being used to slap someone who’s almost out of arm’s reach. Except they’re not. Because you’re holding onto an extra arm.
Would be utterly useless in real life because: Skeletons aren’t famous for their durability. We break bones, bruise them, and you can bet that after we’re dead they only decrease in usefulness. Think about it for a second: there’s a reason that humanity invented swords and spears instead of continuing to fight with our fists. Pointy sharp things are, well…pointy and sharp. And very effective against other squishy meatbags (i.e. humans).
So having a weapon made out of a skeleton arm not only puts a lot of faith into cartilage but also means you’ve been digging. In a cemetery. And then pulling apart decomposing bodies and waving their arms around in your fists like a necro-windmill.

Impracticality rating: 8/10
What does it do? Uses its massive weight to act as a giant club. As its from a dragon, it’s almost unbreakable.
Would be utterly useless in real life because: Okay, okay. Let’s bypass the entire scenario of actually trying to fight with this weapon and focus on how you’d get it in the first place. You’d have to kill a dragon (famous for being a rather difficult endeavour) and then rip a tooth from its jaw. I can’t imagine a string tied to a slammable open door will do the trick, so there’s that obstacle to surmount. Maybe make sure you have a tow truck and a length of adamantium chain handy. And a very, very enthusiastic dentist.
Also, once you’ve pulled out a tooth from the deadliest reptile known to mankind, you don’t decide to carve it into something else. Like a sword, or a set of unbreakable armour – oh no. If it worked for a dragon it must work for a human, right? Yeah, probably. Just hit someone round the head with it. Donezo.

Impracticality rating: 8/10
What does it do? A jet engine is used to give this greathammer some extra oompf, to ensure it meets its target with a devastating force.
Would be utterly useless in real life because: The Turbo Super Sledge is the kind of weapon a six-year old would design. Obviously that automatically makes it amazing, but by definition it also makes it flat-out ludicrous.
How ludicrous? It’s a sledgehammer with a nuclear-powered jet engine running through the head. Earlier and later versions of the Super Sledge use a relatively sensible kinetic energy store for extra impact, but for the Turbo edition, only the force of an actual rocket-powered swing will do. Sounds awesome, but compare the mass of a rocket-propelled sledgehammer to that of a stationary human hammer-swinger. Swinging this thing would simply turn its wielder into a (very brief) human Catherine Wheel, before catapulting them over a couple of city blocks and inflicting the kind of whiplash that turns neck vertebrae into powder.

Impracticality rating: 10/10
What does it do? Combines blades with…guns. There’s a gun attached to its hilt. So you can fire bullets and then run in for an almighty slice with the same implement.
Would be utterly useless in real life because: It wouldn’t function as either a gun or a blade. The firing mechanism of Final Fantasy VIII’s version (which doesn’t actually fire a projectile but rather sends a shockwave down the blade for additional impact) would probably result in severe carpal tunnel syndrome for the user over prolonged combat. And the resulting numbness, tingling sensation, and loss of grip strength would turn the already-challenging act of carrying the ludicrously unbalanced thing into a borderline impossibility.
And on that note, the simple fact is that swords with hybrid pistol hilts are just not practical. They handle badly, their weighting is all wrong, and they’re generally just a big unwieldy mess. In fact they did actually exist in real life for a while, but were written off as a stupid idea for exactly that reason.

Impracticality rating: 17/10
What does it do? It fires black holes. You know, those things with mass so great and gravity so powerful that not even light can escape their pull.
Would be utterly useless in real life because: The very idea of projecting one of those away from oneself is inherently broken. As is the idea of said impossible projectile not instantly sucking the entire corridor into its black, merciless grasp the second the trigger is pulled, starting with the nearest thing to it (the gun itself) and then branching out from there (i.e. crushing you to a pulp an instant later). It’s quite literally a self-defeating weapon.
So that’s a hefty 11 tools of death-dealing nonsensicality. But can you think of any we’ve missed? Any world-saving weapons that would do far more harm than good? Any ultimate swords of ultimate silliness that would break a hero’s arm long before breaking the villain’s will? Let us know in the comments.
And if you’re in the mood for reading some more tangentially related internet goodness, why not check out The 15 types of characters you meet in every RPG (opens in new tab) and The 25 best video game stories ever (opens in new tab) There is no reason why not. You’ll have a great time.
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]]>The post 8 reasons why Bowser always fails appeared first on Game News.
]]>1. He always insists on lava

Yes, rivers of molten rock can bring out the evilness of an evil villain, but Bowser is a Koopa. Which is just a turtle with a different name. Turtles and fiery volcanic discharge do not go well together. Seriously. Bowser hasn’t learnt his lesson since Super Mario Bros. That was over 25 years ago. He’s still falling into his own lava. It’s ridiculous. Insisting on lava is stupid enough. But insisting that he battles Mario while being in dangerously close proximity to lava (like on a rubbish bridge) is stretching the concept of a suicidally brainless turtle to its most asinine limits. As a turtle, he might do better if he surrounded himself with some other element instead. Like, say, oh I don’t know…water?
2. His traps aren’t ambitious enough

Above: Get past that you little prick
Wow, Bowser, those slowly rotating flame spindle obstacles are totally going to stop Mario in his tracks. He’s going to see them and he’s going to know that he has met his match. He’s going to turn around and go straight home to Luigi, crying all the way. He absolutely isn’t just going to jump over them like they’re not even there. No sir. Just a bit of advice, though, when the traps are at the design stage, you might want to think bigger. Aim for something that might actually be effective in the task of stopping Mario. Like an enormous and completely impassable wall of fire. Just a suggestion.
3. He’s rubbish at kidnapping

Above: Here is Bowser about to kidnap Princess Peach again. Notice how he is not very inconspicuous
Maybe if the King of Koopas was a little more discrete and snatched away Princess Peach when nobody was around to witness the deed he’d have a better chance of getting away with it. But he seems to deliberately go out of his way to make sure Mario knows of his despicable doings. And once Mario knows of Bowser’s despicable doings, it’s only a matter of time before Bowser ends up in the lava. Again. Like an idiot.
4. He breathes the world’s slowest fireballs

Above: Gee, Mario. Look out for that f-i-r-e-b-a-l-l. Oh, Bowser’s dead already
The ability to breathe fireballs is unquestionably bad ass. But when said fireballs move only marginally faster than the running speed of an overweight Italian plumber, it’s hardly worth burning the inside of your mouth for. Against Mario, Bowser’s fireballs are just, well, a bit balls really.
5. He always hides Peach in the most obvious place in the entire Mushroom Kingdom

Above: This is the correct sort of place to hold someone captive
I’m no expert in the business of kidnapping, but I always presumed that the general idea was to hide your hostage in the last place anyone would ever think to look. Some place not altogether obvious. If you are the known perpetrator of the kidnapping and your name is Bowser, then holding the prisoner captive in a castle that is commonly known as Bowser’s Castle is a stupid idea. As is putting her on a boat that has a huge Bowser head stuck to the bow and a big Bowser flag flying from the mast. Surely keeping Peach at the bottom of a disused warp pipe in some abandoned brick factory would be the logical choice.
6. His castles are designed by Mario sympathisers

It’s the only explanation. Otherwise they would surely be furnished with floating Bowser blocks full of useful objects to facilitate the annihilation of Mario. Instead of it being, like, the other way round. Note to Bowser: remember to reference check the architects.
7. He has an army of useless minions

>>>NEWS FLASH FOR BOWSER! GOOMBAS ARE SHITE! And if it’s not Goombas being useless it’s some other idiot minion ineffectually wandering back and forth along the same predetermined path like a sad polar bear at the zoo. They’re just waiting for Mario to come along and put them out of their misery by jumping on their heads or some other conveniently vulnerable and completely unprotected area of their personage. Unless Bowser starts issuing suitable body armour and exploding hats to his troops, they’ll continue to be as effectual as a turtle in lava. Oh.
8. He doesn’t really want to win

It’s the only explanation. I refuse to believe that anyone – even an overgrown video game turtle – can be so consistently inept at their chosen vocation. He’s been doing the exact same stuff, falling for the exact same tricks, falling in his own lava over and over again for more than two decades. That doesn’t happen by accident. Bowser has a problem. He’s trapped in a negative behaviour pattern which manifests as this perpetual self-conditioning of failure.
I get the sense that there is much more to Bowser than we realise. That he is an incredibly complex Koopa with deep-rooted issues that could probably be traced back to an unhappy childhood. But I’m not a psychologist. All I see when I look at Bowser is a big stupid turtle that breathes slow fireballs, has a rubbish army, stands on rickety bridges above rivers of his own lava and occasionally enjoys sports with other citizens of the Mushroom Kingdom. He’s gaming’s most successful loser and he is destined to fail many more times in the next 25 years. Silly turtle.
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]]>The post Gamings maddest mad doctors appeared first on Game News.
]]>In memory of some of gaming’s most mental scientists and demented quacks, we present this humble list. They’re all geniuses, but they’re all completely over the rainbow. Read on as we take you on a tour through gaming’s maddest mad doctors.

From: Crash Bandicoot
Speciality: Artificially stimulated evolution, putting pants on animals
Dr. Neo Periwinkle Cortex is the ultimate cliche. Bullied as a child, Cortex’s ambition of world domination is driven by the ridicule he’s suffered over the years. Boasting a massive cranium matched only by his ego, and resplendent in the obligatory white lab coat, elbow-length rubber gloves, and evil beard of villainy, Cortex is everything a mad doctor should be. He’s also quite, quite mad, as evidenced by the fact that he has an army of rapidly evolved animals that he thinks will help him rule Earth. The big “N” plastered on his forehead probably isn’t great evidence of emotional stability, either.

From: Ratchet & Clank: Up Your Arsenal
Speciality: Time travel, destruction of anything with a pulse
Nefarious is the personification of self-loathing. His hatred of all living things pushed him over the brink of madness, despite the fact that he himself was once a biological life form. Fortunately, that’s no longer a problem because he is now a robot and therefore free to pursue a genocidal war against the “squishiness and foul stench” of organic beings. In short, he’s a complete lunatic who wants to disintegrate anything that isn’t made of metal and rule a galaxy populated entirely by machines. Pretty cuckoo, then.

From: Heavy Rain
Speciality: Extreme surgery, roofies
Adrian Baker is one of many “rent-a-villains” found in Heavy Rain, who seem to exist solely to wave their hands around and shout, “I AM QUITE SUSPICIOUS MAYBE I AM THE ORIGAMI KILLER ACTUALLY!” Also known as The Doc, Baker is one of the craziest suspects found in Quantic Dream’s quasi-film, as evidenced by his love of drugging young women and performing surgery on their conscious, unaneasthetized bodies. He himself is happy to admit that he went a little peculiar after he lost the ability to perform real surgery, but that’s okay. A circular saw in the basement and a city full of soft female flesh is more than enough to make up for it.

From: The Suffering
Speciality: Curing the criminally insane, being criminally insane
Dr. Killjoy is the classic lunatic running the asylum. Although he genuinely desires to fix the minds of the psychopaths on Carnate Island, his methods are said to be depraved (not to mention often fatal) and his current existence as a living memory who seeks to “cure” protagonist Torque hasn’t seemed to do much for the man’s sanity. Appearing throughout The Suffering as a sixteen millimeter film projection, Killjoy attempts to help the criminally insane in the only way he knows – by sending blinded freaks with swords for arms after them.

From: Guilty Gear (series)
Specialty: Lacerating opponents with a six-foot scalpel while wearing a bag over his head
Okay, stay with us on this one: Faust – who is supposedly 360cm (11 feet, 9 inches) tall – was originally named Dr Baldhead, and he was a genius of a physician. But he wasn’t infallible, and when a little girl died on his operating table, he dealt with the pain just as any medical professional would: He went batshit insane and became a serial killer. However, when the ghost of the little girl who died appeared to him and said it wasn’t his fault, he became UN-insane again (note we didn’t say “sane”), changed his name to Faust, and rededicated himself to preserving life and fostering peace. However, the fact that his peacekeeping methods involve him wearing a bag over his head and slashing away at other people with a gigantic scalpel leads us to question just how sane he’s become. We’re going with, “not quite sane enough.”
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