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legion1227 · 1 year ago

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Mortal Kombat 11: A Review.

In anticipation of Mortal Kombat 1 releasing, I decided to buy Mortal Kombat 11 a few months ago. I played the game in bits over the years at gatherings but never got much substantial time with the game until this purchase. As a big fan of the Mortal Kombat franchise, this game held me down, a fighting game casual fan, while waiting for the next entry.

Story-wise, the Mortal Kombat games got messy over the years. It was simply about a tournament in the 90s games, then became more complex with the 3D era of games introduced in the 2000s, like Deception, Deadly Alliance, and Armageddon. Then, Mortal Kombat 9 was released. MK 9 was the (sort of) reset the franchise needed. Cleaner slate, taking characters in new directions, 9 was ambitious. Then Mortal Kombat X was the follow-up, and Mortal Kombat 11 was the finale to a story established in 9 while also setting up the next game as a hard reset, like 9.

Mortal Kombat 11 was in a bizarre spot, huh.

Regardless, the story mode and story DLC were a lot of fun. Battling through the vast amount of characters in the roster with a rotating and changing cast of characters to play was fun. Ideally, when I'm looking for single-player content in a fighting game, the Mortal Kombat games are the standard of what I love and want to see. The cutscenes and fighting choreography are the best seen in the franchise so far. Character arcs for fan favorites like Scorpion and Sub-Zero are memorable. Newer or returning characters like D'vorrah or Kotal Kahn stand out in their own ways. And Kronika made for a challenging final boss for the game, though not as memorable as previous final bosses like Shao Kahn. The Aftermath DLC was even more fun. As a small continuation from the original story, DLC characters like Nightwolf and Fujin get some time to shine. But whoever's idea it was to bring back Cary-Hiruyuki Tagawa, the legend who played Shang Tsung in the 1990 movie, to reprise his role for this game is a genius. Whenever Shang Tsung is on screen, he's an utter delight.

Looking beyond the campy pleasure that is the MK story, other single-player content provides many hours of enjoyment. Traditional arcade mode to unlock character endings is my favorite thing in a fighting game right after a decent story. Fighting several different opponents, watching specialized intros between my character and the enemy, attempting to link combos, and alternating between finishing my opponents with fatalities, brutalities, stage fatalities, friendships, and whatever else all add to an overwhelmingly positive experience. I tried every character, and among the nearly forty available characters, I found that stringing along combos and special moves with Shao Kahn was the easiest. I love many fighting game series besides Mortal Kombat, like Street Fighter, Blazblue, or Tekken, but I've always appreciated how much easier it is to pull off special moves or complex combos in the recent MK games. So gameplay-wise, Mortal Kombat 11 feels good. It feels right. It's joyous to look at and a bomb to play.

Besides the traditional arcade mode, there are other arcade-esque modes called the Towers of Time. The ever-changing rotating towers with differing objectives or challenges provided a different intrigue every day. Your rewards usually end up being one of three types of currency that can be used at the Krypt, where you can buy customization options for each character or concept art or brutalities, among numerous other things.

There comes my one major gripe with the game. The Krypt fucking SUCKS!

Actually, the Krypt is somewhat cool. Exploring an island to purchase various items, navigating through death traps, and seeing some easter eggs for fans was a distinguished experience. What muddies the experience is that you have coins, souls, and hearts that act as payment for whatever. Some items cost coins, and some need others. The best way to accumulate currency is grinding through the arcade towers, which can become tedious after a while. Especially considering the requirements for hearts and souls are more demanding and specific than coins. My hope for Mortal Kombat 1 is that a version of the Krypt similar to this one appears but only uses one type of currency.

As a casual fighting game fan, this game works immensely for me. The blueprint of fighting game single-player content I would like to see as someone who prefers not to hop online and get my ass handed to me by pros who eat, sleep, and breathe the game. I dunno if or when I will get Mortal Kombat 1, but until that day, for a Mortal Kombat fix, I will definitely indulge over and over again in Mortal Kombat 11. Great game. 4/5.

#review #game review #video games #mortal kombat #mk #mk11 #mk1 #mortal kombat 1

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blaka-smoko · 3 years ago

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King for a Day (Prologue)

Hey, long time no write! So I've actually been writing snippets of a sequel to my YukiMamo fanfic Reluctant Hands, but due to starting a new job, I've hardly had much time or inspiration to work from.

However, given that I'm getting pretty close to the point in ES21 where this sequel is taking place, I've resumed writing it little by little. So I wanted to at least post the prologue before anything else. It started out as a drabble of Hiruma piercing Yuki's ears.

Given how the last fic ended, this sequel will focus on a day between (mostly) Mamori and Yuki clothes-shopping together and confiding in one another about their insecurities. I also felt like Mamori didn't feel very fleshed out in my last fic, to the point I half-wonder if I gave her all that much agency. I think I wrote her mostly in-character, but I want to write her as her own person this time around.

ANYWAY, I felt it was only appropriate to not only give Hiruma some more scenes, and to also have him contribute in some way to Yuki gradually owning his femininity. This was originally going to stay as a drabble, but it fit pretty well as a prologue instead.

So without further ado...

“YOWCH!”

Hiruma had grabbed a fistful of Yukimitsu’s messy hair and yanked it towards himself, spurning that startled squeal.

“Hold SHTILL, fuckin’ baldy,” he snapped, fangs clamped down on a black marker cap.

Yukimitsu obeyed and clamped his thin lips shut, the rest of his body now frozen with anticipation. His nostrils flared at the pungent smell of felt-tip marker ink. It mingled with the sharp odor of alcohol pads used to sterilize his ears only a moment ago. His lobes still felt cold from the ice cubes used to numb them. Though as much as his fragile hair roots screamed, Hiruma’s rough handling felt—in its own bizarre way—affectionate.

Getting tended to by Hiruma wasn’t something he would pass up, especially when he harbored such a strong crush. Not that he would ever confess his feelings, but his touch was something Yukimitsu has dreamt about since joining the team. Both their hands were unusually similar, but the inordinate precision and gangliness of the devil’s fingers were strangely alluring. Not to mention, he was perhaps the only person Yukimitsu knew to hate physical contact so much that even a light brushing incurred the same reaction as splashing water on a ferocious cat. Unless he was on the gridiron—and even then, his movements were so slithery that any sacking he received came as a shock—Hiruma avoided physical closeness whenever possible.

So it’s safe to say that Yukimitsu would never take an opportunity for touching and closeness to his touch-averse captain for granted. He certainly wasn’t now. What he’d give for those long fingers to keep running and tangling in his hair like this, spidering across both sides of his scalp in a tender embrace.

That said, Yukimitsu was still conflicted as to whether he’d regret agreeing to this ear piercing.

Hiruma pressed the marker tip into the center of one earlobe until it left a black dot, then repeated the process with the other. “Gotta know where da ‘ell I’m sh’posed to pierce, so shtop fuckin’ fidgetting.” Yukimitsu’s small nervous eyes didn’t leave the first aid kit, used alcohol pads, the wine cork, Musashi’s old lighter, and a pair of faux-diamond studs next to it all. He sat stone-silent in the swivel chair, biting his bottom lip with a mix of both anxiety and excitement. He clenched and unclenched his fists while they remained glued to his bony thighs, the hot overhead light heating and illuminating his giant forehead. Hiruma let go of his hair and dusted his hands of stray strands, then sterilized them again with another one of the alcohol pads.

Surprisingly, this had all been Hiruma’s idea.

It started with an assumption—albeit a correct one—from his covert spy activities during the Deimon High School Arts Fair last week. Watching Yukimitsu fiddle with and look over the arts-and-crafts club’s handmade earrings display with longing had driven the devil up a wall. Even after making such a show of it, he still had the nerve to gibber out a frightened “nonono, no thanks, I’m just looking!” to the chirpy girl at the booth before scuttling away with his tail between his legs.

The only thing to remedy Hiruma’s annoyance was poking his own pair of holes into those untouched earlobes. If fucking baldy didn’t have the balls to stroll into a piercing parlor himself, then that meant Hiruma had to take matters into his own bony hands. Besides, giving piercings used to make decent pocket change back in his days at Mao Middle. Chrome-dome here wasn’t exactly loaded, but he did manage to pay him 2000 yen for the favor. Not much, but whatever. It covered his next trip to Son-Son. What with how fucking manager switched his coffee grounds to decaf after the last cream-puff crack he made, and he had to set that shit straight.

Hiruma held the hollow surgical needle aloft the open flame he had flicked on with Musashi’s old lighter, eyeing it carefully as the heat sterilized it. “These are gonna take at least six to eight weeks to heal. You need to keep these studs in as much as possible, and sterilize them and the holes at least twice a day. Don’t leave ‘em out, or else the holes will eventually close up. You’d have wasted your money and I’d have wasted my time. Got it?”

“Guh...got it,” Yukimitsu nodded stiffly, half-choking on his own saliva. Hiruma pinched one foam earplug and tucked it deep in his own ear canal, then picked another one out of his pocket and did the same for his other ear. “If your mom gets nosy, tell her you lost a bet.” Only from watching Hiruma plug his ears had it dawned on Yukimitsu that those were the only reason his hearing hadn’t been damaged from years’ worth of rowdy gunfire. He really did think of everything.

“What if she makes me take them out?”

His captain shot him an incredulous look. “Put ‘em the fuck back in when she’s not around! Or just own up to it and move on. Don’t let her jerk you around all the time, for Chrissakes.” Easy for you to say, Yukimitsu thought sullenly. You don’t have to live with her. Not that he didn’t need to hear this; he did. Assertiveness wasn’t his forte anymore than athletics. But he still had ways to go before he was a full-fledged, independent adult. Drawing her unwanted attention (and possibly ire) was something he tried to avoid whenever possible.

Hiruma grabbed the cork off the table, turned it between his long fingertips and eyed it carefully. “This should only take a few seconds.” With an uncharacteristic amount of care, he pressed it behind Yukimitsu’s right earlobe until it touched close to the base of his skull. With a hard swallow, his bench player’s muscles seized up as soon as he felt it, eyes screwed shut. His breath quickened and his narrow chest rattled with each heartbeat.

Silence.

He could still feel the cork, but even so nothing happened. Neither a word nor a sound from his captain either. What was going on in the world in front of his eyelids?

Just then, Hiruma piped up.

“By the way, what page had that huge-ass trig equation Ms. Tsukiji wanted us to complete. Y’know, the one almost nobody in class finished?”

Yukimitsu opened both his eyes. “Huh?”

“It was one that required like…three half-angle formulas. The long one.” Like clockwork, Yukimitsu’s photographic memory worked its magic, turning page after page of their trigonometry textbook to the one from earlier that day. His mind’s eye finally landed on the page he remembered. Still, it was an odd request. Why ask this now, especially since Hiruma had better memorization skills—not to mention better mental math prowess—than even him?

“Oh, that should be easy! Not half as hard as it looks by the way, just time-consuming. Page 629 had the actual problem, but if you turn to the how-to section on the Identities page spread of 624 to 62–“

Once Yukimitsu felt that hollow needle carve a hole through the thin flesh of his lobe, a blood-curdling scream tore its way through his throat.

#eyeshield 21 #elly writes #yukimamo #hiruyukimamo #hiruyuki #yukiposting

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