Archive for the ‘ Promotions ’ Category

Yoshi’s Island salt/highlights

Here are some highlights from last Wednesday’s Yoshi’s Island stream on my SNES classic.

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5/24 Stream Salmon Run Struggle!

Last night’s stream was pretty fun. We had several turf parties, I had a short run of wins in S+ Tower control and was able to interact with some old friends for the first time in a while :).

I hope that everyone continues to enjoy these small updates on the stream and hope to write full recaps of each stream with highlights here in the very near future. I just actually want to make sure I do so when I finish in the mornings!

Tonight, I’ll be making a push for 800 in Salmon run. The weapon set doesn’t favor me, but someone I admire said it’s the PLAYER that allows for the progression and not the weapons. So we’ll see how it goes 🙂

http://www.twitch.tv/wildpalazzo

Check it out!

Yoshi’s Island 5/23 Twitch.tv/wildpalazzo

Hey all!

Last night provided a pretty solid stream. Although there were shades of fuckery here and there we were able to have a pretty solid time. I’d love to give shout outs to Jiggly(http://www.twitch.tv/jigglypuff665), Satyn! (http://www.twitch.tv/LiterallyxSatan), Robert, and Koi(http://www.twitter.com/koisapphire) for diving in on all the fun last night. Also a VERY special shout out to my 2 favorite people in the world in Foolio and Nephy4. I love you guys! Every time we game together is an exceptional experience :)!

Satyn uploaded her perspective of events here 🙂

Tonight’s stream will start off with Yoshi’s Island around 10:30 pm EST I’ll play that until maybe about 1 am or 12:30 am depending on the flow of the stream. OR rather, audience interest. I hope to see you all there tonight!

http://www.twitch.tv/wildpalazzo

New Stream tonight

As I continue to transition all things to support my new project as a full time streamer this blog will also become a medium to promote it. My current goal right now is to obtain 100 subscribers to my stream by July 3rd. I’m currently at 31. For those curious there are several ways you can subscribe to my channel,

1. You can subscribe using a basic tier 1 subscription over at http://www.twitch.tv/wildpalazzo for $4.99 and opt to do it monthly or even one time only.

2. If you have Amazon Prime, you are entitled to a Twitch Prime account that allows you to give one FREE subscription per month to a Twitch.tv user of your choice. You can sign up for that over at http://twitch.amazon.com/prime and following the instructions.

Tonight’s stream schedule is as follows:

Splatoon 2: 10:30 pm EST – 7 a.m. EST. There may/may not be a brief 30 min intermission for lunch.

I will begin to update the blog here weekly with updates to the stream and more! Thanks for dropping by :).

JOIN US TONIGHT!

http://www.twitch.tv/wildpalazzo

Podcast Appearance

Hey, quick update as I made a recent appearance on a podcast to talk about a few things I enjoy. You guys can listen below, and please leave me some feedback!

03/11/2015 #TheDefenders Snippet, In The Mix, and a bit of tea.

Pastepot Pete!

Pastepot Pete

 

Hello all! How’ve you been since the last update?

 

After a lot of reviewing and reading I’ve finally been able to get this blog post up and live for consumption. Before I get into talking about the story two things: Today’s blog post is brought to you courtesy of two of the podcasts I follow: In the Mix with Shoom and Tea with Queen and J. If you guys could do me a favor and follow them/like them on their social media accounts then I’d really appreciate it. I definitely think everyone should take the time to support them as they are part of the #InsomniacFamily as far as I’m concerned.  I have also included links to the latest episodes of the two series along with today’s blog post, I hope you enjoy!

 

One of my favorite people in the universe, Sammus, is currently embarking on her very first tour with the incomparable Mega Ran! Tonight’s show is in Yellow Springs, Ohio! If you have the time and are in the area, please drop by and check them out tonight! Below is the full list of appearances and dates on the tour!

 

 

RSVP here on Mega Ran’s FB page

 

In the mix w/Shoom

In the mix w/Shoom

Like on Facebook!

https://www.facebook.com/inthemixwithshoom

Follow on Twitter!

http://www.twitter.com/Inthemixshoom

 

Tea with Queen + J

Tea with Queen and J

Like on facebook!

https://www.facebook.com/TeawithQueenandJ

follow on twitter!

https://twitter.com/TeawithQJ

 

Alright, after you guys follow these links and “Like” these pages I hope you enjoy today’s snippet! 🙂 Please don’t forget to drop me feedback after you’ve read!

 

 

****

 

Jameson, after foiling six attempted invasions of the Earth by demonic entities of various stripes, was really getting tired of his new job.

 

 

Maybe it was because the only pay he received was a sense of satisfaction of job well done, or at least done. Well, that and his continued existence. Which might be a plus, he admitted.

 

 

Maybe it was because the average demon was a grotesque mockery of all life. With absolutely no taste, and even less of a sense of humor. He’d had to raid several demonic dimensions, all of which featured flowing rivers of blood, strobe lighting, and “You Don’t Have to Be Damned to Work Here—But It Helps!” signs on the walls.

 

Jameson took a deep sip of his rather indifferent, lukewarm latte. A paper airplane that had been painstakingly folded from a napkin struck him on the back of the head.

 

 

Or perhaps, he appended, it was all the mockery his outfit was attracting as he paused to get refreshed at an all-night café.

 

 

Jameson turned abruptly. “All right you creep, I seem to recall that this is a free country, where a man can stop for a cup of coffee, and not have to worry about persecution based on the way he dresses.”

 

 

The entire clientele of the café glanced at him, and then glanced pointedly away.

 

 

“I’ll have you know I have a perfectly good reason for wearing this outfit!” Jameson began to wave his fist. “I am a SUPERHERO!”

 

 

The crowd continued to pointedly glance away.

 

 

Jameson sat back down. “Ingrates,” he muttered under his breath. Maybe he should just let the N’Gai toast a city district. That would show them…

 

 

The cafĂ©’s waitress approached him. “Anything else?”

 

 

Jameson glanced at her. “Tell me, if I order another latte, would it actually be hot?”

 

 

The waitress shrugged. “Miracles have been known to happen.”

 

 

Jameson frowned. “That’s what I thought…” He handed her a few bills. “Keep the change…” The waitress nodded and headed out. Jameson sighed. He shouldn’t have flown off the handle like that. After all, it was just a paper airplane. He’d dealt with worse his entire life. At least right now, he was having a quiet moment, after an eventful stress-filled night.

 

 

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Well, night owls, prepare for a stick-up of the most figurative kind! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

 

Jameson’s head slumped down to the countertop. Well, at least his luck was holding out. All bad. Righting himself, he turned to look at this new threat.

 

 

Jameson blinked. Then he blinked again, to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Then he blinked a third time, in the desperate hope that he was. However, it appeared he wasn’t. The cafĂ© really was about to be robbed by a man dressed largely in purple spandex—right up to the cowl on his rather vulpine face. The man’s gloves and boots were both a light red in color, and in his left hand, he held what looked for all the world like a military attempt at designing a squirt gun.

 

 

“Tremble, yes tremble fools at my awesome might! It will consume you! Quail before my power! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

 

Jameson’s teeth ground together at the apparent supervillain’s high-pitched laughter. Maybe if I just sit here quietly, this will blow over, he thought. I mean, it’s not like I owe these people anything. I’ve already saved their sorry carcasses tonight, and I’m going to do it again. I can sit this one out. Might teach them a lesson. That was when he caught a desperate glance from the waitress. “Damn social conscience…” muttered Jameson, standing up.

 

 

“Attention, supervillain!” he stated in his best attempt at a loud commanding voice. “Before you stands Dr. Strange, self appointed nemesis to unpleasantness. Now cease your criminal activities and inordinate cackling or face my completely justifiable wrath.”

 

 

“Oh, really?” snorted the villain. “And tell me, Doctor are you ready to face the uncanny power of—PASTE-POT PETE?”

 

 

Jameson’s face went slack. “What?”

 

 

“I said, ‘are you ready to face the uncanny power of Paste-pot Pete’?” His opponent frowned. “What are you, deaf?”

 

 

Jameson buried his face in his hands. The universe, he felt, was an unjustifiably silly place, sometimes.

 

 

Paste-pot Pete (who was known to family and—well, acquaintances, as Jake Jennings) smiled to himself. His first act of supervillainy was already a roaring success. His superhero opponent had been reduced to quivering terror at the very mention of his name! Soon, very soon, Jerry Jenkins would be defeated!

 

 

All right—so technically, this was his second act of supervillainy. His first, an attempted bank robbery, had derailed fairly quickly. He’d handed a note saying “Prepare to get sticky” to a teller, and then had waited half an hour, at which point a pair of muscular security guards had shown up, and forcibly hauled him off, explaining as they did so that the bank didn’t want perverts intent on monkey business hanging around the premises.

 

 

Fortunately, no one had noted the beginning of his career in crime, and Jake had been able to take away two very important lessons.

 

 

Firstly, banks are far too heavily protected to be robbed with impunity. It would be wiser to go for a place that wasn’t expecting it.

 

 

Secondly, his impromptu costume of an artist’s smock and dark glasses just didn’t seem to grab people’s attention, at least, not in a way that screamed ‘supervillain’.

 

 

Jake gave a satisfied nod. Purple spandex had definitely been the way to go.

 

 

Jameson, after a couple of deep breaths, glanced up. “Okay,” he announced. “My burst of existential horror is over. I accept the terrifying fact that a man may want to dress in spandex and call himself Pasty Pete—”

 

 

“That’s Paste-Pot Pete!” cried Jake, menacingly waving his gun around.

 

 

“Right,” said Jameson in the calm cool tone that is generally used by men of extraordinary patience on children of remarkable intransigence. “As I was saying, it’s the sort of thinking that gives the world quite a few rock stars.” Jameson’s toe was starting to tap impatiently on the floor. “But what puzzles me is what superpowers a man called Post-Haste Pete—”

 

 

“I said, that’s Paste-Pot Pete!” screamed Jake.

 

 

“Dear me,” said Jameson. “Did I misspeak myself? Must be the lateness of the hour. To continue, what powers might he possess?”

 

 

“A worthy question,” cackled Jake. “My power comes from my brilliant invention, the paste pistol!” Jake glanced at his creation lovingly. Well, truthfully it was that bastard Jenkins’s invention, which Jake had… liberated from his lab, but still, his nemesis had been blind to its more advanced applications. In fact, he had built it for nothing more than to fix a few loose tiles on the school roof, showing as usual the inferiority of his so-called genius in comparison to the incomparable mind of Jake Jenkins. “With this I shall become one of the leading lights of the criminal world! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

 

Jameson seemed to be staring at him rather strangely. “I’m happy for you. So—your—paste pistol…” Jameson bit his lip, in apparent frustration. “It shoots—paste, I’m guessing?”

 

 

Jake snickered. “That’s right! A very sticky paste! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

 

Jameson nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He nodded some more. “Would you just—give me a second…?” Jameson turned around, glanced at the cafĂ©’s patrons, and screamed. “All right people!” he shouted. “Would a reasonably fit man care to take a chair to the back of Pastel Pete’s head?”

 

 

“That’s Paste-Pot Pete!” cried Jake.

 

 

“Shut up!” said Jameson forcibly. He glanced back at the crowd. “Come on! He’s a scrawny young man who is trying to hold you up with a glue gun! Am I the only one here who realizes the inherent absurdity of this fact?”

 

 

The other patrons made it a point of order to avoid looking at Jameson.

 

 

“You all suck,” muttered Jameson. “I want you to realize that…”

 

 

“What to do you mean ‘inherent absurdity’? Are you insulting me, you cape-wearing lunatic?”

 

 

“Yes, I’m insulting you because you are probably one of the most intrinsically incompetent supervillains in existence,” seethed Jameson. “Have you ever considered the obvious limitations of your ‘power’? Suppose, for example, that you are robbing a bank. The manager knows the combination to the safe. He won’t open it. What do you do?”

 

 

“Simple,” snickered Jake. “I’d tell him to do it, or face a blast from my paste pistol.”

 

 

“And what would that do?”

 

 

“It would—make him very sticky…” stated Jake, a touch of uncertainty trailing into his voice.

 

 

“And why would that be threatening?” Jameson asked quietly.

 

 

“He—really doesn’t like being sticky…” Jake’s expression was now openly confused.

 

 

“It’s not threatening at all!” Jameson shouted. “If you’d have thought about it, you’d have known it! You’d have seen your only superpower is using a gun that’s less effective than a normal gun!”

 

 

“It—it makes people sticky!” Jake muttered defensively.

 

 

“A normal gun makes people dead,” replied Jameson. “Being dead is much worse than being sticky.”

 

 

“Oh—oh, shut up!” screamed Jake raising his paste pistol. “No one insults my reign of supervilliany…” He pulled the trigger.

 

 

A trickle of brownish fluid leaked out of the muzzle. “What—? ” Jake muttered in shock.

 

 

“Oh, yes,” said Jameson in a rather amused tone. “While we were chatting, I transformed your glue to molasses.”

 

 

Jake stared at him in dull surprise.

 

 

“Or maybe treacle.” Jameson began to tap his chin, in speculation. “Actually, those might be the same thing…”

 

 

“You’re working for him, aren’t you?” Jake stated hatefully. “You’re working for Jerry Jenkins!”

 

 

Jameson glanced at Jake, baffled. “Who?”

 

 

“Don’t play dumb with me!” screamed Jake. “This is just another one of that bastard’s attempts to bring me down! Well, Paste-Pot Pete is not as easy to defeat as Jake Jennings!” He triumphantly pulled out a greenish cylinder from his back pocket. “Behold! A second load of ammunition!”

 

 

Jameson sighed. “You really take too much relish in even the smallest triumphs, you know that?”

 

 

Jake changed his canisters quickly, then leveled the gun at Jameson. “Let’s see you get out of this one!”

 

 

Jameson stared at him forcibly.

 

 

Jake blinked. “Gettin’ sleepy…” he muttered. “Go night-night now…” With that he crashed to the floor and within minutes was laying there in a fetal position, snoring.

 

 

“Had to keep at it, didn’t you?” Jameson shook his head. He turned to the cafĂ© patrons. “And thus was the scary Potboy Pete, wielder of the mighty glue gun, vanquished.” He walked out. “Don’t expect me to be so helpful next time…”

 

 

Shortly after he left the patrons glanced at each other. “Well, it seems that shrill, ugly fellow really was a superhero!”

 

 

“Yes. We’re all in his debt it seems.”

 

 

“What was his name again?” asked one.

 

 

“Ummmm… I think it was “Professor Weird, or something…” said another, uncertainly.

 

 

“No, daddy, I’m a good boy…” whimpered an unconscious Jake from the floor. “It was Natalie…” He began to suck his thumb nervously.

 

****

 

 

And here’s the podcast updates, as promised!

 

 

 

The Defenders Snippet: Return of the Emissaries of Evil

I’m a big fan of the “after credits” scenes in movies. As a result of that I spend a lot of time editing and trying to create awesome cliffhangers in writing. This scene is actually the end of the third chapter of “The Defenders” story based on Jameson Smith and his friends. Take a read and drop me some feedback below!

 

The first appearance of the #EmissariesOfEvil on the blog can be found here

The Emissaries of Evil

****

 

The Emissaries of Evil made their way slowly to Elihas Starr’s stateroom.

“Well guys,” said Jim, “I’m really glad you got me my spare power cell…”

“Shut up,” said Ray.

 

Egghead had to pay their bail (the whole affair would almost certainly never reach trial due to a lack of witnesses—at least witnesses who’d be willing to come forward). That would put their boss in a bad mood, and when Mr. Starr was in a bad mood, he made certain *you* were in a bad mood. Ray was just having his prematurely.

 

*That Dr. Strange and his flunkies will pay for this,*  he thought. *I swear it.* “We’re here boss,” he announced as they entered Egghead’s office.

“Come in, come in,” said a calm, slightly jovial voice.

Ray stopped in his tracks. That wasn’t Mr. Starr.

For a start, the voice was too high.

Also, it was a bit too happy.
And then, his boss had never seemed that fond of red.

The figure leaning back in Egghead’s chair was clad in a voluminous red cloak, ending in a cowl that completely obscured its face. A half-finished glass of brandy was in its left hand, undoubtedly poured from the bottle Mr. Starr kept on his desk. On the desk’s ashtray, the remains of a cigar rested.

“Gentlemen,” said the mystery man, a touch amused. “Pleased to meet you.”  He popped open a box. “Cigars? They’re quite good.”

“Sure, I—” began Jim stepping forward.

Ray motioned him to stop. “Who are you? What happened to Mr. Starr?”

The man shook his head. “Questions, questions, always questions,” he muttered. “No time to appreciate the finer things.” He shut the box. “To answer your queries, I am called the Crimson Cowl. As to your employer—we were discussing matters and he couldn’t see things my way.” The Crimson Cowl spread his red-gloved hands. “You see, I happen to run my own team of super-criminals. Mine’s the *Masters* of Evil, and well, I didn’t appreciate the similarities between the names.” He took a sip of brandy. “I thought it might cause confusion. Or even lead to all sorts of unfortunate mixups. Mr. Starr didn’t quite agree with me, lost his temper, and fell to pieces.”

“Pieces?” said Jim, nervously.

“Yep—pieces. Arms, legs, internal organs—I’d never seen a man strewn about so.” He
opened a mini fridge by the desk. “His head’s right here, if you want to see it…”

“You killed him,” whispered Bruce.

The Crimson Cowl shrugged. “Well—yes.” He sighed. “We’re criminal masterminds. These things happen.” He shut the fridge. “Now, I’m willing to offer some of you employment with my agency. Personally, I think you’ll love it—Starr was using you as glorified enforcers. Stick with me, and I’ll have you doing the real supervillainy.” He leaned further back in his chair. “I’m talking earth-shattering stuff here…”

“YOU BASTARD!” screamed Bruce, charging forwards buzz saws blaring. This was a move he would regret the rest of his life, which was the five seconds it took for the sickle to reach his neck.

“Unfortunate,” murmured Crimson Cowl, taking another sip of brandy. “Dispose of the rest.”

Ray and Ken turned around immediately. In Ken’s case this was to take a blast of
energy straight to the head.
In Ray’s it was a giant boomerang to the mid-section.

Jim immediately fell to his knees. “I-I’ll work for you!” He gulped. “You could use a guy with radiation powers! I know you could!”

The Crimson Cowl rose slowly, and walked towards Jim, regarding him quietly. Reaching the cowering supervillain, he leaned forward. “Would you believe,” he stated calmly, “that I turned down one just last week?” Then with one sudden motion, he snapped Cobalt Man’s neck.

The Crimson Cowl walked back to the desk, refilled his glass, and lit himself another cigar. As he puffed contentedly, three figures stepped out of the shadows—two women, and one man. One of the women spoke. “We should not stay here. It is unwise to do so.”

The Crimson Cowl chuckled. “Honestly. Don’t you know my personal creed?” He sipped the brandy. “One should always enjoy a good glass of spirits, and a fine cigar.” He took another long puff. “Ahh. Nothing burns like a Havana…”

 

***

 

 

 

Don’t forget to leave comments below.

 

 

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