It’s seventh hell in the third dimension for Mega Man X

Mega Man X7 (2004)

I’ve been bang into falls from graces lately – looking at bright stars, and how it all came crashing down around them in spectaular fashion, all too devastating and all too soon. How about Mike Tyson, who shook up the world almost as much as Ali did at age 18, even earning the ultimate accolade of being the subject of a Nintendo game. Few people have managed that. Popeye, to name just one rare example. Give it a few years and old Tyson was a convicted rapist, wasn’t he, with a penchant for ear biting and on his way to the first of several bankruptcies. He still puts his hands on a few quid though, so it’s not all bad.

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This is the next generation, Mega, so get your arse in gear

Mega Man 11 (2018)

Never mind your Top Gears or your Fifth Wheels or your Grand Hoors, I’ve got the only bit of car advice you need – make your next car purchase an automatic. You’ll probably want to make it an electric or hybrid motor too, or at least something that doesn’t completely cackle at the polar ice caps like an evil vaudeville villain tying the dainty demure dame down to the train tracks. If your car doesn’t run on tofu then somewhere, somehow, there’ll be a Green Party policy there to thwart you. I’m all for environmental concern, but I’d rather the holes go in the ozone layer than in my pocket, know what I mean?

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Mega Man goes viral yet again, and there’s still no cream for it

Mega Man 10 (2010)

I understand that internet security is big bucks nowadays, owing to the fact that there is a relative lack of experience and knowledge in the field (what field?), and also because this kind of information and data is important to keep under proverbial wraps. After all, my whole life is on my phone, and I’m sure you’re the same.

If my phone fell into vagabond hands, they could go off and pay for all kinds of contactless purchases, or go onto my social media and put sackable statements against my name. I wouldn’t even mind any of that too much, to be honest, so long as they don’t find where my journal is saved, and they don’t release any of my search history – there’s absolutely no coming back from that.

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Never mind memory lane; how’s about the scrapheap instead?

Mega Man 9 (2008)

Since the missus does be out at work all day and I’m working from home, alone all day, inevitably my mind turns towards sex robots. Are sexbots nearly here? God, but the more I think about them, the more I wonder if I could cope with one. Imagine living in a single bedroom apartment with one? One night, after you’ve had a row with it or it catches you flirting with Alexa, you leave your sexbot (personalised to look like your favourite weathergirl) out on the landing, detuned – or so you think.

But I could just see it bursting through the door at one o’clock in the morning because you programmed it wrong. “Master, would you like some toast for breakfast today?” it asks in a too loud, flat but unmitakably sinister robotic female voice. “G-God, no…” you whimper, clutching the duvet for dear life. 

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Either you’re a Mega Man, or it’ll be the Bass that got away

Mega Man & Bass (2003)

Men live in their own delusions, you know, because it’s the only thing that keeps us from giving up. This really comes to the fore when you’ve got a new woman in your sights. You fancy a bit of her, and in your deluded state, you think that you’ve got a chance. But why would you? She will have bundles of interest from all kinds of male suitors, so what sets you apart from the pack? Nice guy? Unblemished record of holding doors open? You even open your wallet to buy them a drink every now and then? All well and good,lad, but you’re gonna need a bit more than that.

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It’s just a set of eight new sprites, and none of them with smegma hair

Mega Man 6 (1994)

The other day, when my good friend’s young daughter proudly showed me a picture she’d drawn of me, I was absolutely chuffed to buggery. She is four years old and was drawing me from memory, so of course a few artistic licences were taken. I don’t have eight spindly legs, to my knowledge. And I certainly don’t have bile green skin with smegma yellow hair.

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The transformation of Mega Man into Gomer Pyle Man

Mega Man 5 (1992)

As Mega Man embarks on his fifth death-defying adventure, I feel I must finally lift my head above the parapet. It’s time for me to be a little bit ethical here, and ask that difficult question: are we sure Mega Man isn’t traumatised by now? I suppose the logical answer to this is that he is a robot, and robots don’t suffer from PTSD.

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How to keep your Babushka happy, on an infinite budget

Mega Man 4 (1992)

So the question is this: where is Mega Man from? In-universe, I’m talking about now. We know he lives in the future, because proper numbers no longer exist and the calendar eventually tells us it’s the year 200X, although I haven’t a notion how you’d pronounce that.

Mega Man does look like a distinctly Japanese creation, with his big wide anime eyes. And yet the American box arts make him look like something out of a Fallout game, if it were set in the 1980s. So is he American or Japanese, or miscellaneous? Do these countries even exist anymore, in Mega Man’s world? What about France, the UK, Russia?

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Third time’s just about the charm for the boy in blue

Mega Man 3 (1990)

The third instalment in any series can often be finely poised on the knife-edge of quality, and very rarely will they be middle-of-the-road – they could be sensational pieces of work, like Goldfinger and Rocky III. Or they can turn out properly lacklustre, like The Godfather III and, I’m sorry to say this, Back to the Future 3.

With the NES though, there was plenty of greatness where the number 3 was concerned. Plenty of great trees were pulled up, an Irishman might say. Super Mario Bros. 3 was the crown jewel of the system. Castlevania 3 was strong as well, Ninja Gaiden 3, Dragon Quest 3… we’ll not mention Double Dragon 3 – good things don’t always come in threes.

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The robots can replace me all they like if it means I get more lie-ins

mega_man_x

Mega Man X (1994)

According to an online exercise, my job has about a 75% chance of being taken over by robots. And I wouldn’t even mind if they were laser-firing killer robots, intimidating enough to send the Terminator running. No, I am apparently in line to be replaced by the same machine that uncoils the metal guards on the vending machines and sets your chocolate bar free.

I’m none too pleased about this, of course; be a bit of a shame if I’d gone to college and kissed besuited backside only to get my nose shoved out of joint by a robot with as much capability as a wind-up music box. Still, if it means I can get my hands on some of that lovely Universal Basic Income, then sign me right up. The eggheads, Germans most of them, cite ‘disincentive to work’ as an argument against basic income. Well, duh, why else would I sign up?

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