Normally, I like seeing interesting things show up at the underwater base addressed to
yours truly.
But as soon as I set eyes on this package, I was filled with woe.
“Good Luck?”
The hell’s that supposed to mean?
When I opened the box, I knew my fate had been sealed: within moments, my studio was
infested with ROBs.
Look, I understand these guys have an attitude.
You would too, if you were basically used to shoehorn NES consoles into Toys R Us locations
(and other businesses wary of dealing in video games in 1985), given 2 games, and then all
but ignored save for bit parts in WarioWare and Smash Bros. ROB got a raw deal.
Sure, a separate accessory just to control video games as inefficiently as possible seems
kinda ridiculous... especially when it requires a number of small fiddly bits likely to be
lost by children thinking it’s a toy in 1985.
So I tried to be a good host.
I let them have their day in the sun, and I just happened to have copies of Gyromite
and Stack-Up on hand.
(And Bryan S. saw fit to send these little maniacs complete with all the accessories
one needs.
I presume he obtained them via legal means.)
The anatomy of a ROB is fairly simple: It’s got a hexagonal base capable of rotating the
arm assembly 240 degrees to one of 5 positions, a pair of shoulders that can assume one of
six heights along its spine, two hands that can open and close to manipulate objects in
its range, and an optical sensor in the eyes that responds to certain flashes on the screen,
much like a light gun.
Unfortunately, they also have a penchant for destruction, or at least mischief.
I caught these two planting explosives about the place.
This one began subjugating the other residents of the studio.
I tried to appease them with material offerings, but their metabolisms seemed incompatible
with my tributes.
I think they run on a steady diet of hate and obsolescence.
TJ’s log, Stardate 3.14159265...
I fear for my life.
The invaders have taken over and begun a series of strange rituals.
Fortunately, it doesn’t look like they’re able to reproduce, as parts are terribly rare
and horribly expensive.
Just one unit can run between 60 and 200 dollars, and that’s without any of the strange add-ons
to actually let you play games with it.
Not only that, they seem to respond only to old cathode-ray-tube TVs, as they have no
interest in our current flatscreen LED displays.
Not only are they ill-tempered relics, they’re also hipsters.
Maybe I should’ve bought them cheap beer and clove cigarettes.
I mean, how the heck would one of those things ride a bike?