So this is a bit of shameless self-promotion. I could use the hits, it’s an hour away from midnight, I haven’t got anything else to write about and I’ve vowed to update this blog every day. (Actually my other half has decreed that I shall, and it’s more than my life’s worth to argue.)
Today I wrote a review about a game featuring awesome transforming robots that I would’ve had as a child if I hadn’t grown up in a police state that was under international sanctions.
Thanks mum and dad!
The closest I got to owning actual Transformers was by picking up a bootlegged Optimus Prime that was clearly a knock off – it was stark white – and finding Mixmaster in a supermarket – it was obviously old stock that hadn’t been returned to the supplier. So there you go, the only Transformers I had as a child was Prime from Hong Kong circa 1985 and Devastator’s left leg.
To make matters worse, while I didn’t have access to any Transformers, the toy stores in my country did sell Go-Bots. To call Go-Bots the poor person’s Transformer is to do a disservice to poor people. Offering Go-Bots to kids who are aware of the existence of Transformers is like handing them a burlap bag filled with leaves and sawdust and telling them it’s the puppy they’ve always wanted. It’s cruel and unusual and causes children to read a lot of comics, spend a lot of time down the arcade and then later in life, fool themselves into thinking that writing about either of those aforementioned past-times is a noble and honest way to make a living. It also causes them to buy Transformers later in life for their younger sibling, who suffered through the same Go-Bot hell as they did.
BTW, I got my brother Transformer for for his 33rd birthday last year. He was utterly stoked!