I’ve spent the last 6 days putting the PSVR2 through its paces along with the rest of my family. I played as many games as I could and I figured I’d break down my thoughts on the hardware and tell you about the games I really liked. 

It turns out that Gabe is fucking obsessed with PSVR2. The improvements to the overall experience - and a certain amount of personal curation of the game library based on his shameful weaknesses - mean that he is going hog fucking wild on games like Rez, even though already owns it everywhere it's ever come out, but now he can live inside it and blast target chains with his literal eyes. Gran Turismo in VR is the apotheosis of some desire in him, made manifest initially through iRacing, but elevated here through GT7's well understood "auto-eroticism" and the Logitech PRO Racing Wheel he got from Logitech because people are always giving him shit.

I think that I initially thought of it as a joke, a Magic x Hot Pockets collab, but it's not! It's a real thing. There is a picture of Gideon Jura on a box of Meatballs & Mozzarella Hot Pockets, and I think it might be stock art or something, but the way they're presented on the box he is looking at these flaky snacks with wicked intent. Or just… maybe he's just hungry, which in this case probably ends much the same way.

Here's a look at the Miles Variant I did for Marvel Snap!

It just sorta is what it is. Brenna's had to tolerate incursions like this at the doctor forever, they're commonplace - omnipresent, like sax solos in the eighties. Until I paid a man and his inexplicably present assistant to sterilize me a decade or so ago, zealous strangers interacting with my most secret places were pretty thin on the ground. Now I've entered a phase of life where doctors just slap your shit around and it's not super clear why.

VR is still pretty big in his house, just not with him; whatever weakness lives in him was bred out, allowing his progeny entre into the digimal realms which are my sole domain.

I started thinking about the Eyrewood a few days ago and wondered what Hanna might be up to. It’s been 10 years since her story ran on Penny Arcade, if you can believe that! So I decided to draw what a slightly more grown up Hanna might look like these days.

So, maybe it's a Valentine's Week sale.  Anywho, there's a ton of our designers' incredible work whose prices have beem grievously slashed and perhaps even seriously injured!  I'm going to call out a couple of the things I think are especially cool/delicious:

For the price-conscious Acquisitions Incorporated devotee, there are deep-ass cuts broadly.  But for a deeper sort of cut, a metaphorical one, our official "creature feature" series of grindhouse takes on classic D&D monsters are now juicily priced.  I'm talking about these here:

Given how skittish and cowardly megacorporations tend to be, and especially given how much creative work Warners Brothers has either destroyed or sold for parts recently, their unwillingness to simply launch the film into the sun is quite novel, for reasons we'll go into. I suspect in addition to these, or any other invisible dynamics, the fact that it's an ensemble film means there are many, many moneyed individuals ready to take a bite of them if they do.

Late fees are not the part of the ritual I honor; if I recall correctly, there is still a fee on my credit score from Hastings - "my entertainment superstore" - as the result of a misplaced Monster Rancher. I had placed it under the seat of my car so it would always be in there, maximizing the return opportunities while minimizing its attack surface. I forgot about it completely. This is the kind of fruitless, clever-in-quotes ritual I have come to call "outsmarting yourself."

As a young person, I went to friend-of-a-friend Davy's apartment once, and in addition to the traditional panoply of wastrel paraphernalia, there was also a five foot tall bong. Don't ask why I was there. But there's a similar dynamic, with different material components, when I go over to the home of Mr. Gribbs. His drug of choice is ancient silicon, and so far it seems like his kids are still eating food and stuff so I haven't called the police.

When I was checking out watchmeforever, a procedurally generated sitcom on Twitch that would have gone on in perpetuity if it hadn't been banned, it routinely had more than ten thousand viewers. Most human beings don't do these kinds of numbers! I certainly don't. To see it engage in precisely the sort of behavior that gets streamers yanked in real life is weird but also just… correct. It's Turing stuff. No reason at this point not to just complete the prescribed arc.

I have a couple friends for whom the crucible is apparently not good enough for their dice, when it's possible that the opposite is true: they are insufficient for the crucible. Craps is essentially a big dice tray inlaid with a mystic topography. Try to imagine the dice rolling off of the table, and onto the floor - like so many meatballs - and the Dice Priest being like "hey, nbd - you do you."

Don't be coming around here with this boomer shit. Also, don't be knocking on Mike's door unless you have a pizza, because we've got you motherfuckers clocked in 4k HDR. I have the angles to get some serious photogrammetry going, and I can ensconce an immortal version of you in a robust, materially simulated hell forever.

Man, this Dead Space shit. It has to feel incredibly bad to make a spiritual sequel/remake of your old game, a la Callisto Protocol, and people aren't super hot on it - then have an official remake come out very soon after and basically everybody likes it. That would fuck my head up something fierce. It's fucking me up and it didn't even happen to me! If I weren't already sitting down, I would have to sit down. Sit down and just rest. Rest these weary bones.

Okay! These are the last mice for now. I put the word "fin" in the script, and Gabriel replaced it with The End of The Beginning, which is good news for me because that means it won't take much coaxing to make him return to The Mouse Well. This is the sweet spot: an amount of coaxing situated somewhere between zero and one.