03-16-2007, 08:54 PM
I wrote this because I got bored, and I wondered what it would be like to write something starring the badass of company presidents; Reggie Fils-Aime. I was going for the same ridiculous, tongue-in-cheek style as my Goomba story, so don't take offence if it seems rather opinionated - it's meant to play on console war humour. Obviously, as its from the viewpoint of Reggie Fils-Aime, it's going to be very Nintendo-orientated. So if you think that will offend you, don't read. 
I was going to incorporate Microsoft somewhere, but after two hours I wanna stop and go back to that Samus RP I was writing. >_> Anyway, without further ado!
The Wii was doing well ? it had exceeded all expectations, and not only was it selling faster than the PS3, it was even catching up to the Xbox 360. As such, one would have expected the NOA?s president to be happy; even ecstatic. But for some reason, he wasn?t.
They were doing well, but not good enough. There wasn?t enough action. Even between developing Super Mario Galaxy and pushing the release of Metroid Prime 3, there was still something missing.
Reggie was bored.
A knock came on the door, and the beast of a man sat forward in his chair. ?Come in,? he grunted.
The door swung open, and Reggie gave a sigh; half of relief, half of exasperation. ?I called you in fifteen minutes ago,? he said to the coffee boy. ?What took you so long??
?I?m sorry,? spluttered the assistant. ?I forgot, it won?t happen again.?
?You better make sure it doesn?t,? snarled the president, taking his coffee and raising the mug to his nose. ?Ah, fresh from Venezuela.?
?Enjoy your coffee,? smiled the young lad, who turned to leave.
Reggie, who was just raising the coffee to his lips, stopped. ?Hold on. Aren?t you going to ask me for an update on Metroid Dread, like you always do??
The boy paused in the doorway, apparently silent. His eyes darted to the coffee, and then it clicked.
Reggie threw the mug aside, letting it shatter against the wall. Immediately the wallpaper began to dissolve; acid. He turned back to his ?assistant? ? but the man was already running, having discarded his simple guise.
?Security! Stop that kid!? The obelisk of testosterone roared, and began to thunder towards the closing door. But, as his fingers reached for the handle, a creak sounded from above. Reggie looked up, and leapt back just in time.
Three ninjas dropped from the roof; all clad in matching black material. ?Sony for life!? the nearest one hissed. Drawing his dagger, the assassin made to finish his target ? but stopped. His wrist was caught in the vicelike grip of NOA?s president.
?Dogs of Kutaragi,? the Reggienator growled. ?You will pay for trespassing on this holy turf!? With that exclamation, a sickening snap filled the air, followed by a scream. Reggie held the would-be-ninja?s severed hand aloft, like a trophy that dripped blood. ?Bring it on,? he snarled.
The assassins needed no more encouragement. Swiftly the second leapt forward, only to find his blow dodged. Reggie weaved and intercepted, expertly blocking every punch and kick sent his way. After a minute?s worth of hitting air, the attackers lost their cool. Reaching a gloved hand to the satchel at their waist, the second ninja withdrew a small object; and, with trained precision, tossed it at the president.
Reggie could see the star as if in slow motion. Moving his arm up, he plucked it from the air. ?Looks like you lost something of yours,? he quipped, grinning before spinning and delivering it back to the target.
A thud confirmed his accuracy; one assassin remained.
Far from perturbed by his ally?s defeat, however, the black-clad fighter seemed cocky as ever. ?Your time is long gone,? he boasted. ?Nintendo is dead! Give up hardware development, and join us in an era of universal formats. Together, we can dominate the console market!?
?Never,? hissed the president of NOA. ?Without competition, what will the incentive for improvement be? The games industry will wither!?
?Do not try to delay the inevitable,? the ninja continued. ?The people do not want innovation; they want marginally improved graphics, and the ability to play Blu-Ray.?
Reggie smiled. ?And you truly believe that? What about the gamers in their college dorms, living off loans? Do you think they have the money to spare to invest in high-definition TVs??
The assassin hissed. ?We only look to the future; soon, those people will be a minority. And minorities do not matter.?
?I?ve heard enough!? boomed the Reggienator, assuming his fighting stance once more. ?Let?s finish this!?
?As you wish,? smiled the black-clad attacker. ?Just remember that you could have joined us.?
The ninja?s hands moved to his back, and his fingers closed around a handle. With a loud sching, he drew his weapon ? a katana, whose edge was pointed straight at the president.
?Damn,? snarled Reggie, whose eyes were on the blade. ?Have you no honour?!?
The assassin stepped forward. ?This is the games industry. There is no honour; only profit.?
It was looking bad for the president of Nintendo of America. As he backed towards the window of his office, looking for something, anything to use as a weapon, his opponent closed in ruthlessly.
Finally, his space ran out. Reggie was the only thing between the sky outside and the ninja ahead.
?It was inevitable,? cackled the ninja. ?Without the classics, you are nothing; just a dying company, with no heroes left.?
And then, suddenly, it clicked. Reggie?s eyes turned to the sky. ?Miyamoto. If you can hear me ? help me strike down this enemy! Lend me your power!?
For a moment, nothing happened. The assassin sneered, and raised his blade.
And then a flash of light filled the room. For a second, everything was white. And then it faded, leaving the two combatants stunned. But one thing had changed. Reggie?s hand held an object. A small, plastic baton, almost like a remote control, was grasped between his sweaty fingers.
The wrist strap went on.
?Huh?? The ninja laughed, letting his katana drop to the ground. ?There?s no way you?re going to beat me with that stick!?
?It?s not a stick,? said Reggie, with utmost seriousness. ?It?s a baseball bat.?
Whack.
The assassin felt like his brain had just left the stadium. Thoughts of impossibility filled his head, as he staggered back. What the hell ??
?Now,? continued the Reggienator, grinning, ?It?s a lightsaber.?
Voomf!
The ninja screamed aloud, eyes popping as he stared at his stump of an arm. ?How is this happening!??
The president of NOA stepped forward, as his once-fearsome enemy lay cowering on the ground. ?Now do you see the power of innovation??
?We just wanted to bring multimedia together,? wheezed the dying assassin. ?We wanted to create a machine that would play everything; games, music and DVDs ? the next generation in entertainment!?
?You have forgotten the true purpose of game consoles,? growled Reggie. ?It?s not about spouting gas and making stupid claims ?? he raised the Wiimote and bellowed; ?It?s about playing games!?
BOOM!
?Quickly!? shouted a man in a black suit, ushering security officers up the stairs to Reggie?s office. ?The president is in danger!?
As a group of men burst through the double doors, they gasped. A few turned away quickly, as the suit-wearing man covered his eyes. ?What the hell happened here??
Reggie walked over, smiling, and held up the Wiimote. ?Missile launcher,? he stated.
I was going to incorporate Microsoft somewhere, but after two hours I wanna stop and go back to that Samus RP I was writing. >_> Anyway, without further ado!
The Wii was doing well ? it had exceeded all expectations, and not only was it selling faster than the PS3, it was even catching up to the Xbox 360. As such, one would have expected the NOA?s president to be happy; even ecstatic. But for some reason, he wasn?t.
They were doing well, but not good enough. There wasn?t enough action. Even between developing Super Mario Galaxy and pushing the release of Metroid Prime 3, there was still something missing.
Reggie was bored.
A knock came on the door, and the beast of a man sat forward in his chair. ?Come in,? he grunted.
The door swung open, and Reggie gave a sigh; half of relief, half of exasperation. ?I called you in fifteen minutes ago,? he said to the coffee boy. ?What took you so long??
?I?m sorry,? spluttered the assistant. ?I forgot, it won?t happen again.?
?You better make sure it doesn?t,? snarled the president, taking his coffee and raising the mug to his nose. ?Ah, fresh from Venezuela.?
?Enjoy your coffee,? smiled the young lad, who turned to leave.
Reggie, who was just raising the coffee to his lips, stopped. ?Hold on. Aren?t you going to ask me for an update on Metroid Dread, like you always do??
The boy paused in the doorway, apparently silent. His eyes darted to the coffee, and then it clicked.
Reggie threw the mug aside, letting it shatter against the wall. Immediately the wallpaper began to dissolve; acid. He turned back to his ?assistant? ? but the man was already running, having discarded his simple guise.
?Security! Stop that kid!? The obelisk of testosterone roared, and began to thunder towards the closing door. But, as his fingers reached for the handle, a creak sounded from above. Reggie looked up, and leapt back just in time.
Three ninjas dropped from the roof; all clad in matching black material. ?Sony for life!? the nearest one hissed. Drawing his dagger, the assassin made to finish his target ? but stopped. His wrist was caught in the vicelike grip of NOA?s president.
?Dogs of Kutaragi,? the Reggienator growled. ?You will pay for trespassing on this holy turf!? With that exclamation, a sickening snap filled the air, followed by a scream. Reggie held the would-be-ninja?s severed hand aloft, like a trophy that dripped blood. ?Bring it on,? he snarled.
The assassins needed no more encouragement. Swiftly the second leapt forward, only to find his blow dodged. Reggie weaved and intercepted, expertly blocking every punch and kick sent his way. After a minute?s worth of hitting air, the attackers lost their cool. Reaching a gloved hand to the satchel at their waist, the second ninja withdrew a small object; and, with trained precision, tossed it at the president.
Reggie could see the star as if in slow motion. Moving his arm up, he plucked it from the air. ?Looks like you lost something of yours,? he quipped, grinning before spinning and delivering it back to the target.
A thud confirmed his accuracy; one assassin remained.
Far from perturbed by his ally?s defeat, however, the black-clad fighter seemed cocky as ever. ?Your time is long gone,? he boasted. ?Nintendo is dead! Give up hardware development, and join us in an era of universal formats. Together, we can dominate the console market!?
?Never,? hissed the president of NOA. ?Without competition, what will the incentive for improvement be? The games industry will wither!?
?Do not try to delay the inevitable,? the ninja continued. ?The people do not want innovation; they want marginally improved graphics, and the ability to play Blu-Ray.?
Reggie smiled. ?And you truly believe that? What about the gamers in their college dorms, living off loans? Do you think they have the money to spare to invest in high-definition TVs??
The assassin hissed. ?We only look to the future; soon, those people will be a minority. And minorities do not matter.?
?I?ve heard enough!? boomed the Reggienator, assuming his fighting stance once more. ?Let?s finish this!?
?As you wish,? smiled the black-clad attacker. ?Just remember that you could have joined us.?
The ninja?s hands moved to his back, and his fingers closed around a handle. With a loud sching, he drew his weapon ? a katana, whose edge was pointed straight at the president.
?Damn,? snarled Reggie, whose eyes were on the blade. ?Have you no honour?!?
The assassin stepped forward. ?This is the games industry. There is no honour; only profit.?
It was looking bad for the president of Nintendo of America. As he backed towards the window of his office, looking for something, anything to use as a weapon, his opponent closed in ruthlessly.
Finally, his space ran out. Reggie was the only thing between the sky outside and the ninja ahead.
?It was inevitable,? cackled the ninja. ?Without the classics, you are nothing; just a dying company, with no heroes left.?
And then, suddenly, it clicked. Reggie?s eyes turned to the sky. ?Miyamoto. If you can hear me ? help me strike down this enemy! Lend me your power!?
For a moment, nothing happened. The assassin sneered, and raised his blade.
And then a flash of light filled the room. For a second, everything was white. And then it faded, leaving the two combatants stunned. But one thing had changed. Reggie?s hand held an object. A small, plastic baton, almost like a remote control, was grasped between his sweaty fingers.
The wrist strap went on.
?Huh?? The ninja laughed, letting his katana drop to the ground. ?There?s no way you?re going to beat me with that stick!?
?It?s not a stick,? said Reggie, with utmost seriousness. ?It?s a baseball bat.?
Whack.
The assassin felt like his brain had just left the stadium. Thoughts of impossibility filled his head, as he staggered back. What the hell ??
?Now,? continued the Reggienator, grinning, ?It?s a lightsaber.?
Voomf!
The ninja screamed aloud, eyes popping as he stared at his stump of an arm. ?How is this happening!??
The president of NOA stepped forward, as his once-fearsome enemy lay cowering on the ground. ?Now do you see the power of innovation??
?We just wanted to bring multimedia together,? wheezed the dying assassin. ?We wanted to create a machine that would play everything; games, music and DVDs ? the next generation in entertainment!?
?You have forgotten the true purpose of game consoles,? growled Reggie. ?It?s not about spouting gas and making stupid claims ?? he raised the Wiimote and bellowed; ?It?s about playing games!?
BOOM!
~*~*~*~
?Quickly!? shouted a man in a black suit, ushering security officers up the stairs to Reggie?s office. ?The president is in danger!?
As a group of men burst through the double doors, they gasped. A few turned away quickly, as the suit-wearing man covered his eyes. ?What the hell happened here??
Reggie walked over, smiling, and held up the Wiimote. ?Missile launcher,? he stated.
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Bra Wrote:People are dumb, essentially.
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