“Want some shit?”
Remember Narc? It was that 1988 arcade game where you could either arrest drug dealers and drug addicts or you could shoot them with your assault rifle or blow them to burning bacon bits with your tactical grenade launcher.
You had a choice between a super-pig kitted out in a red catsuit with a matching motorcycle helmet or the same super-pig but in blue.
So, red or blue . . . was this a commentary on the bipartisan support for the ultra-repressive Forever Wars on Drugs that the US-of-A pursued so ardently from Nixon ‘til, uh, well it’s still kind of a thing isn’t it?
Yeah . . . so along came the X-Box and the PS2, and things from video gaming past were resurrected in bigger, bolder, gutsier,nuttier, bustier, beefier, bloodier, ballsier fashion.
Hence . . . Narc’05.
“Want some shit?”
Here’s some marketing copy from the back of the insert paper inside the plastic sleeve of a clamshell X-Box case:
BIG HIT $19.95 FRIEND PRICES
Which is kinda funny, right?
It’s a clever way to spin a budget release title.
It’s not cheap because it’s been stepped on by slave labor and cut with strychnine and
polonium.
No, no, not at all.
These are friend prices.
We love you.
Like Winston loved Big Brother.
And you’ll love us right back with the same ardor.
“Want some shit?”
Choose your character.
You got two ways to go:
One dirty cop voiced by Bill Bellamy-remember Bill Bellamy? Actually . . . I do remember Bill Bellamy a little bit-MTV VJ, actor, TV host, and a stand-up comedian who, apparently, coined the term ‘booty call.’ Like . . . he’s the guy that first came up with the concept of the booty call. That’s what his wikipedia page says. What? That’s impressive. Did George Carlin or Richard Pryor or Sam Kinnison or Brother Theodore or Joan Rivers or Redd Foxx or Lenny Bruce or Don Rickles or Jerry Seinfeld actually invent a new term and the concomitant idea said term is meant to express? I’m impressed.
And another dirty cop voiced by Michael Madsen . . . the straight razor guy who cut off that cop’s ear in Reservoir Dogs.
I’ll go ahead and save you some trouble: Madsen’s the one you want.
If you played this piece of junk on X-Box back in the day, you could press a button on your chunky-ass controller that allowed you to sell some of the illegal street drugs you’ve been hoarding for your own personal use to random NPCs on the street.
When you press this button
you cue up a gloriously throaty voice clip from Mr. Madsen
“Want some shit?”
There’s combat.
There’s a dumbfuck story involving corrupt intrigues from Baldy Ol’ Eagleland, USA all the way to Hong Kong, where everybody knows Kung Fu, natch.
You can ingest your confiscated party favors to get temporary superpowers: Flash-like speed, PCP-style invulnerability, and woozy stonerish slow-mo modes.
This game is fuckin’ dumb.
I vaguely recall that the people who produced it paid to have Curtis Mayfield’s Pusherman and Freddie’s Dead on the soundtrack.
Like people are going to confuse inauthentic product like Narc’05 with Super Fly.
As if.
This is the bargain basement version of Grand Theft Auto,
and I never liked Grand Theft Auto in the first place
(Retro City Rampage does GTA better than GTA, BTW).
But every time you press that one button
“Want some shit?”
I believe in the cigarette-burnished voice-strings of Mr. Madsen.
“Want some shit?”
This is, really, the only fun to be had in the game.
“Want some shit?”
I can picture in my mind, the actual Michael Madsen, especially his look from Kill Bill, cruising through some nightclub or some illegal farmhouse rave, cowboy hat and all,
“Want some shit?”
and I believe . . . that I want Philip Glass to compose an opera around this voice clip, and Madsen’s sublimely dumpy exterior-can’t you just hear that driving, cycling, iterating musical minimalism a la The Grid from the Koyaanisqatsi soundtrack?
BOOPITY-BOPPITY, BOOPITY-BOPPITY, BOOPITY-BOPPITY
BEEDEEBOODOOBOODOOBOODOO
BEEDEEBOODOOBOODOOBOODOO
BOOPITY-BOPPITY, BOOPITY-BOPPITY, BOOPITY-BOPPITY
BEEDEEBOODOOBOODOOBOODOO
BEEDEEBOODOOBOODOOBOODOO
DOODOO, DOODOO
DOODOO, DOODOO
DEEDEEDOODOODOODOODOODOO
DEEDEEDOODOODOODOODOODOO
BOOPITY-BOPPITY, BOOPITY-BOPPITY, BOOPITY-BOPPITY . . .
And then we add to that, at random intervals reminiscent of the voices chanting random sequences of numbers in Einstein on the Beach
“Want some shit?”
And we end up with
BOOPITY-BOPPITY, BOOPITY-BOPPITY, BOOPITY-BOPPITY
“Want some shit?”
BEEDEEBOODOOBOODOOBOODOO
BEEDEEBOODOOBOODOOBOODOO
“Want some shit?”
BOOPITY-BOPPITY, BOOPITY-BOPPITY, BOOPITY-BOPPITY
“Want some shit?”
DOODOO, DOODOO
DOODOO, DOODOO
DEEDEEDOODOODOODOODOODOO
DEEDEEDOODOODOODOODOODOO
“Want some shit?”
BOOPITY-BOPPITY, BOOPITY-BOPPITY, BOOPITY-BOPPITY
“Want some shit?”
. . .
It goes on like that.
Oh, there’s no end in sight.
I just need some investors.
Philip Glass does commercial gigs, y’know, so I don’t see why he wouldn’t put out for a commission that would exist only to serve my own twisted and capricious whimsies, right?
It just takes a generous fee.
And I can make this shitass lousy fuckin’ world what I want it to be.
These words that I have written . . . here are the most significant thoughts in the global domain of human consciousness at this very moment.
Nothing else rates.
-December 2020.
