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Ah, finally. How will you know if the person you're playing Brawl with is a huge douche? They'll select Snake Federline! This confounding third-party character, who doesn't remotely fit in with the Nintendo universe like other third-party characters (Pac-Man, Bomberman, Mega Man, Sonic... take your pick), was finally profiled. Hey Sakurai! I'm begging you to include me in Brawl! That's all it takes, right? For me to get on my knees and beg you to put something in the game? Jesus Christ. When that Konami turd pulled that, you should have just whipped out your man-meat and slid it down his throat. It would have totally taken him by surprise and asserted your position as top Alpha Dog. Instead you came off as a total bitch... which, ironically, is why I bitch.
Aw hell yeah! I'm always about some new Pokémon (although I'd prefer it if they were playable, naturally), and Piplup is one of my favorite. Oh, who am I kidding? They're all my favorite. I gots'ta catch 'em all! And I have. Dozens and dozens of times. I've had to buy numerous new cartridges just to hold my massive collections. I'm constantly putting new backup batteries in to preserve their lives.
You know how much perfectly good dough I've wasted on you? Now I find you writing about Pokémon in my house? Don't you know that Donkey Kong has payed for all of your expensive boarding schools? Look at you. You're a butthead just like your old man was.
I don't give a damn about your opinion, just like I didn't give a damn about the company that was bulldozed on this spot thirteen years ago. Just like I didn't give a damn about Gunpei Yokoi when I got him fired. Just like I don't give a damn about Sakurai and how much Pokémon bullshit he wants to put in his horrible game. The only person I give a damn about is myself.
You know, it's funny. Thirteen years ago I was handed this empire by a group of people calling themselves the Anti-Didites. I'd never seen or heard of them before this, but they were led by a guy. Some crazy codger who says he's my distant relative. I didn't see any resemblance. So he says, "How would you like to be rich?" So I say, "Sure." So he takes me to Twycross England, where he had gunned down the video game company I had just licensed Donkey Kong to. Tells me to build a hotel and casino. I say "How?" He lays this book on me. He says this book'll tell me the outcome of every professional competitive Smash Bros. matchup 'till the end of this decade. All I have to do is bet on a winner, and I'll never lose. So I say, "What's the catch?" He says, "No catch, just keep it a secret." After that he disappeared. I never saw him again. Oh, and he told me one other thing. He said someday, a crazy wild-eyed floating camera may show up asking questoins. And if that ever happened...
A time tunnel? What the hell is going on here?
I'm the spirit of television's Tom Poston. Something is wrong, Our Friend! Something is terribly wrong!
I was sent to find a past version of you... but not you! You look the same, but... strange. I don't sense Bob Newhart in you!
Obviously the time continuum has been disrupted, creating a new temporal event sequence resulting in this alternate reality.
I'm from a different reality than this one! I was sent by God and the angel Pit to find a time-displaced version of your alternate self, but when I exited the timestream I found that everything had changed!
In the correct timeline, you go by the name of Bob O. Friend. Here, let me demonstrate. Let's say that this line represents time. Here's the present 2007, the future, and the past. Obviously, somewhere in the past the timeline skewed down into this tangent creating an alternate 2007. Alternate to me, but reality for everyone else.
Correct. The Miyamoto from 2002, displaced in 2007, went back in time to give it to the 1994 Miyamoto, creating an alternate Miyamoto that rules the world.
Our only chance to repair the present is in the past at the point where the time line stewed into this tagent. In order to put the universe back as I remember it and get back to my reality, we have to stop Miyamoto at the exact date young Miyamoto got his hands on that sports almanac.
Why are things so heavy? Is there a problem with the Earth's gravitational pull?
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