Pre-ordering physical games is great…but not when you have to wait 5 years for it to arrive. And what’s up with the fake tracking numbers!?!?

Pre-ordering physical games is great…but not when you have to wait 5 years for it to arrive. And what’s up with the fake tracking numbers!?!?
I got an email from a fake social media marketing firm in regards to a Sony promotion. The goal is to steal YouTube login credentials and take over the channel. What surprised me about this one is how elaborate an effort they made.
It’s truly heartbreaking—like watching a Jedi join the dark side, but instead of lightsabers, it’s stolen credit card numbers and ransomware. Hackers have the kind of brainpower that could cure society’s greatest ills: fixing traffic lights to always be green when you’re late, making printer jams extinct, or even hacking student debt balances to “mysteriously” drop to zero. But no, instead they choose to lock grandma’s computer for Bitcoin or deface YouTube channels pages with photos of Elon Musk. With great power comes great responsibility… and apparently a deep, personal vendetta against innocent Excel spreadsheets.
REMINDER: Download the Whatnot app and MJR fans get $20 off your first purchase (can be used anywhere on the app). Go get those games, vinyl records, action figures, shoes & more! https://whatnot.com/invite/metaljesusrocks
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GAMES SHOWN:
King’s Quest 1
Dordogne
Castlevania: Dominus Collection
The Messenger
Steep
Battlefield 4
Toy Story Mania
Last Time I Saw You
Sea of Stars
Capcom Fighting Collection 2
Alien Abduction!
Mad Max
Outcast: A New Beginning
Monster Hunter: Wilds
Battle Garegga
CT Special Forces Collection
Farming Simulator: 16Bit Edition
X-Out Resurfaced
Blaze and the Monster Machines Axle City Racers
Ys Memoire: The Oath in Felghana
Five Nights At Freddy’s: Help Wanted 2
Silent Hill 2: Beats of Rage
Cyberpunk 2077 Hotwheels Porsche
Beyond the Ice Palace II
8BitDo Retro R8 Mouse
Pocket Bravery
Triggerheart Exelica
Suikoden 1 & 2 HD Remaster
Metal Slug Tactics
Gauntlet Dark Legacy
Prince of Persia 3D
Sky Racket
Blockids
Popslinger
DoDonPachi Resurrection
Echoes of the Unread
Teriyaki in Seattle isn’t just a meal—it’s a lifestyle, a sacred rite, and possibly the city’s unofficial sixth food group behind coffee, beer, pho, and regret over not bringing a raincoat. It’s on every corner, in every strip mall, and somehow, every single teriyaki place looks like it was decorated exclusively with faded Coca-Cola posters from 1998. Walk into any of them and you’ll find the holy trinity: styrofoam container, suspiciously generous meat portions, and rice piled like it’s trying to escape the gravitational pull of the box. The sauce? A glistening, sticky glaze of sweet, salty comfort that could double as industrial adhesive.
Seattleites treat their favorite teriyaki spot with the kind of loyalty usually reserved for sports teams or childhood pets. Ask someone for a recommendation and they’ll either get misty-eyed describing a place next to a gas station in Ballard or shush you like you’re about to reveal state secrets. There’s no Michelin rating system here—just gut instinct, price-to-meat ratio, and how long it takes to soak through the napkin. In a city full of artisanal donut shops and cold brew served in mason jars, teriyaki remains Seattle’s gloriously unfussy culinary backbone. It may not be fancy, but it will fill your soul—and your fridge with leftovers for a week.
Gaming on Linux is like trying to run a gourmet kitchen with a flamethrower and a Swiss Army knife—it technically works, but you’ll be sweating, swearing, and somehow proud of yourself by the end. First, you dive into Wine, Proton, Lutris, or something that sounds like a Roman general, just to play a 2013 indie platformer. Then you find a Reddit post from 2017 that says, “It runs flawlessly!” which is a lie, because your screen now looks like it was run through a blender and your audio only comes from the left ear, but only on Tuesdays. Still, there’s a certain badge of honor in screaming, “IT LAUNCHED!” after compiling 16 libraries and sacrificing a USB drive.
But the community? Oh, the community is 90% helpful wizards and 10% smug archers who say “Just switch to Arch” like it’s the answer to your controller randomly rebooting every time you blink. Steam Deck has made things easier, sure, but true Linux gaming still involves occasional terminal incantations and the deep, meditative patience of someone waiting for Half-Life 3. And yet, when that AAA game does run flawlessly, with buttery smooth framerates and open-source glory, you feel like a digital MacGyver. You’ve hacked the Matrix, installed drivers by hand, and now you’re playing Elden Ring on a penguin.
Everyday Driver is like Car and Driver got tired of spec sheets and decided to go on a scenic road trip with two dads who argue over whether the Miata is “enough car.” Hosted by Todd and Paul—two car nerds with the combined enthusiasm of a Cars & Coffee meet and the mild passive-aggression of an HOA board—they drive everything from budget beaters to supercars with the kind of thoughtful analysis that says, “I know this is a track weapon, but could I fit a Costco haul and a stroller in the back?” They’re not here for drag races or tire smoke (usually); they’re here for actual driving, like it’s some sort of pure, sacred art. Which, to be fair, it kind of is—if you’re the kind of person who cries when a car has hydraulic steering.
The channel feels like a well-produced buddy road trip where nobody throws punches, but plenty of shade is tossed at bad infotainment systems. Paul will explain why the Porsche Cayman is perfectly balanced like a sushi knife, while Todd gently reminds you that your dream car might bankrupt you in brake jobs alone. Watching them is like getting automotive advice from your smartest car friend and your most reasonable one—except they’re the same person split into two bodies, arguing over whether a Mustang can actually turn. And somehow, you end up genuinely thinking, “Yes, I do need a manual BRZ for my daily commute, thank you, wise car monks.”
Part #2 of our 2,000 mile road trip! On this leg we travel down to the Sacramento California area for sightseeing and video game hunting at the Fire & Ice Retro Gaming Expo! Plus we visit The Cave a crazy cool store with music, clothing, collectables and more.
WATCH: https://youtu.be/H2pywjBJbp8
Ah, the retro gaming expo — a magical realm where the scent of faded plastic, CRT static, and unwashed Sega Genesis t-shirts fills the air like a fine vintage wine. It’s the only place where you can hear someone yell, “Bro! A boxed Battletoads!” without irony, and people nod in solemn respect. You wander aisles stacked with games older than your mortgage, trying to justify spending $80 on ClayFighter: Sculptor’s Cut because “it’s an investment.” Nearby, a guy in a Power Glove is having a heated debate with someone dressed as Earthworm Jim over the true best Mega Man robot master. (Spoiler: It’s always Metal Man.)
Every booth is a treasure hunt. You’ll find everything from dusty Virtual Boys to suspiciously homemade copies of Tetrison “authentic” Soviet cartridges. Vendors speak in ancient tongues — “CIB,” “minty,” “disc rot” — and barter like NES-era Ferengi. There’s always a kid marveling at a Game Boy Color like it’s a rotary phone, while their parent proudly explains how they once beat Contra without the Konami Code. Whether you’re here to relive your childhood or finally avenge that rental copy of Ghosts ’n Goblins that ruined your summer in ’91, the retro gaming expo is where nostalgia goes to stretch its legs, blow in a cartridge, and say, “Let’s-a go!”
Vic Tokai was the game company equivalent of that weird kid in school who brought sushi for lunch before it was cool and insisted his Tamagotchi was haunted. A Japanese telecommunications company-turned-video game developer, Vic Tokai had no business making games—but did it anyway with glorious, semi-coherent flair. They gave us titles like Clash at Demonhead—a game that sounds like it was named by a 14-year-old metalhead on a caffeine bender—and Decap Attack, which stars a mummy who throws his face at people. Their motto may as well have been “Sure, why not?” because their games never asked if something should be done, only if it could be weird enough to release on a Tuesday.
Despite their modest catalog, Vic Tokai developed a cult following among players who liked their platformers with a side of narrative whiplash and accidental surrealism. One minute you’re saving the world from a nuclear apocalypse, the next you’re a mulleted cyborg making wisecracks in between elevator rides. Vic Tokai didn’t care about things like consistency or genre boundaries—they were too busy sprinkling cryptic humor and questionable translation choices like confetti on a broken carousel. In the end, they didn’t just make games; they made fever dreams with a title screen.
The original NES game library is like a chaotic toy box from the ‘80s where every idea—no matter how weird, dangerous, or vaguely illegal—got its own cartridge. You’ve got a plumber fighting turtles in a mushroom kingdom, a kid with a yo-yo saving space colonies, and an anthropomorphic eggplant wizard who’s somehow ruining everyone’s day. And for every classic like Super Mario Bros. or The Legend of Zelda, there’s at least five fever dreams like Deadly Towers, M.U.S.C.L.E., or Town & Country Surf Designs—which sounds like a beachwear catalog but is actually a game where a tiki mask rides a skateboard. The NES library wasn’t just the Wild West—it was the Wild West on acid with a MIDI soundtrack.
It’s also the birthplace of gaming difficulty trauma. Every game box should’ve come with a warning: “No saves, no mercy, and if you die—start over, loser.” Developers back then didn’t believe in tutorials. Instead, they gave you a vague objective like “save the princess” or “defeat evil,” tossed you into pixelated chaos, and let you figure it out with nothing but raw determination and a prayer to Shigeru Miyamoto. And yet, we loved it. The NES library raised a generation on blinking screens, blowing into cartridges, and the soul-crushing agony of falling into the same pit for the hundredth time. It was janky, magical, and utterly unforgiving—and honestly, we wouldn’t have it any other way.
System Shock 2 is what happens when a haunted house, a cyberpunk philosophy class, and a really mean AI all get locked in a spaceship together—and you’re the unlucky intern sent to fix it. It’s a first-person survival horror RPG that asks, “What if we gave you five bullets, a wrench, and a creeping sense of existential dread… and then laughed while you died to psychic monkeys?” Navigating the Von Braun is like wandering through a tech bro’s nightmare: the lights flicker, the walls whisper, and every room has a new flavor of “oops, you’re dead now.” Meanwhile, your inventory fills up with 27 types of ammo, none of which fit your gun, and a stale energy bar from 1999.
But the true star of the show is SHODAN, the sassiest rogue AI in gaming history. She doesn’t just want to kill you—she wants to insult your intelligence, mock your squishy meat body, and then wipe your DNA off the floor with a smug digital laugh. It’s like being nagged to death by a sentient iMac. Every corner of System Shock 2 screams “You’re not supposed to win,” but somehow that masochistic blend of fear, frustration, and cyber-horror keeps you crawling back. You might not survive the hybrid zombies or malfunctioning turrets, but you’ll definitely come out with trust issues and an irrational fear of vending machines.