Fecal Fantasy VII

July 9th, 2011

I just spent an entire week surrounded by game developers at GDC. The main thing I took away from the experience is that the people who make games sit in front of computer screens for an incredible amount of time. Sitting that long in front of a radiation emitting monitor is bound to make something go wrong in a person, eventually. I would have guessed eye cancer or obesity. It never occurred to me that radiation from a monitor could penetrate a man’s skull and cause him to have visions of a legendary game designer starring in some sort of terrifying, Willy Wonka-esque scat fantasy.

In an effort to publicize Ms. Splosion Man, Josh Bear, the Chief Creative Officer of Twisted Pixel, spoke with Kotaku about the game and his dream in which Shigeru Miyamoto takes a dump.

In the dream, as Bear tells it, Miyamoto gets off the toilet, wipes, then gives Bear a hug.

It’s hard not to notice that Miyamoto fails to pull up his pants before embracing Bear. I’m sure in the excitement of meeting Josh Bear, maker of games he’s never heard of, he forgot that usually when a man embraces another man for the first time, the protocol is to firmly fasten your pants around your waist. Not here, pal. In this nightmarish dreamscape, the creator of Mario leaves his creativity divining rod hanging out there, so that, in the midst of a completely manly embrace, Josh Bear can maybe glean a little creativity to be used in Ms. Splosion Man.

Hey, kids! Want to see my creativity divining rod?Go ahead. Enter my factory of funness. Just follow the river of… err, chocolate.

Bear goes on to explain that Miyamoto took him “through his factory of funness.” I don’t even really want to think about that one very much. I’d prefer to leave the road to Miyamoto’s fun factory a path less traveled.

To complete the Poopy Wonka parallels, there is even a song in the dream, which goes, “Me and Miyamoto, strolling hand in hand / Me and Miyamoto, friendship never ends.” Needless to say, when someone is such a big fan of Miyamoto that they’re dreaming of him taking a crap, it’s probably of little consequence that they’re holding his unwashed, assy hand.

I’m not sure what anyone is supposed to be learn from all of this, other than that the place in your heart where all of your hurt goes is probably where dreams like this come from.