Look, we’re aware that nobody actually watches these, so why not have a little fun with them? In this episode of our apparently years-spanning playthrough of EarthBound for the Super NES, we liberate Saturn Valley and Threed from the clutches of the evil/disgusting Master Belch. More importantly, though, we spend a lot of time waiting behind a waterfall to be let inside his secret base; and, if you know anything about us, you already know that a lot of down time means a lot of time spent riffing on the KISS memoirs and discussing the infamous rumor about Rod Stewart sucking off a roomful of sailors. So basically, if you watch one Dystopian Video Game Party, this is the one to watch!
If you want to watch more than one DVGP, though, here’s the playlist of our efforts so far:
Oh, hey, remember when we said we would watch the 1987 Jon Mikl Thor sorta-vehicle Zombie Nightmare and discuss it in time for Halloween? Well, here it is, just in time for…Thanksgiving. Yeah, we kinda screwed the pooch on that one, but bear with us, because we also have a lot to share about Zach’s 15 minutes of infamy with Team Breezy, the bizarre public meltdown of actor/model/singer/relationship guru/visual artiste Tyrese Gibson, and the forthcoming debut of Dystopian Dance Party in physical form! Also, we talk about our embarrassing physical and mental health ailments.
If that sounds appealing to you–and why on Earth wouldn’t it?!–remember that you can subscribe to Dystopian Dance Party on iTunes, Stitcher, or Google Play. If you really like us, you can leave us a review and we will read it on the air like we’re NPR or some shit. We’ll back soon; in the meantime, please feel free to follow us on Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, and Instagram. Show notes here.
If you forgot that we’ve been attempting a recorded playthrough of the SNES classic EarthBound, then you’re forgiven: clearly, since it’s been ten months since the last post, sometimes we forget, too. But when we left off, we had just arrived in the zombie-infested town of Threed, which gives us an irresistible tie-in to the Halloween season. Also, we recorded this six months ago and we’re still talking shit about KISS, so if nothing else, here’s proof that we’re consistent in our stupidity.
Since it’s been so long, here’s the playlist with our previous episodes:
And, just for the record, we’re gonna try really hard not to let ten months go between episodes again: we have another one in the can already, and will do our best to record a few more when we’re in the same place for the holidays. In the meantime, look out for more Dystopian Halloween Party content in the coming week!
The Dystopian Dance Party podcast is back, and we’re out for blood. This episode, we catch up on what’s been going on during our two-month hiatus and talk about Gene Simmons (naturally), the 20th anniversary of Final Fantasy VII, and the 70th anniversary of Marc Bolan. Please look out for more in the next couple of months–we have a lot of exciting stuff planned for the future!
You can subscribe to Dystopian Dance Party at any of the major streaming services: iTunes, Stitcher, or Google Play. If you like what we do–or hate us and want to inflict us on other people you hate–please leave a review to increase our visibility. You can also listen to podcast episodes on YouTube and Mixcloud. Show notes are available here.
It didn’t take a stroke of genius to come up with the idea for this year’s Jheri Curl June podcast. Rick James may be the most important architect of the genre we call Jheri Curl Music who we hadn’t already commemorated with a long-term feature. He also has a hell of a story: one he told in not one, but two posthumous memoirs–2007’s Confessions of Rick James: Memoirs of a Superfreak and 2014’s Glow–which makes him a perfect candidate for the Dystopian Book Club. A “habitual line-stepper” in both life and art, James was vital in bridging the gap between 1970s P-Funk and 1980s Jheri Curl; his later decline into drug addiction and imprisonment was unfortunate, but could only somewhat dampen his boundless talent and charisma. So join us on this most sacred of occasions as we celebrate Mr. Cold Blooded himself: a man whose artistic potential was the only thing bigger than his larger-than-life personality and appetites. Gimme some ganja!