Abominations in American Box Art

When I was in high school, I yearned to possess both the Japanese and American versions of the SNES Final Fantasy III at the same time; a game which remains unsurpassed in the annals of video gaming. This was back in the late 90s when the Internet was still relatively young and eBay was still called AuctionWeb. Back then it was sort of a niche site and had no international presence - I had to search far and wide for a Japanese copy and eventually purchased a loose cart for $46 (it costs about 15 bucks now, COMPLETE in the box). You see, my plan was to use the game to start teaching myself Japanese, like it was Rosetta Stone or something. God, I was such a dumbass.

Ultimately my plan was unsuccessful because I was too lazy to even buy the damn system to play it on, to say nothing of memorizing hundreds of Japanese characters in the hopes of being able to say "YOU ATTACK WERE-RAT BUT WERE-RAT DODGES THE ATTACK!" But it's all so cheap now that I bought it a second time (I lost the $46 POS a long time ago) and plugged it in today. I learned absolutely no Japanese. In fact, I got killed in my first battle because I couldn't figure out which spell was the healing spell. DEATH TO NON-ROMANCE LANGUAGES

But one thing that has always struck me as exceedingly odd is how pitiful the box art becomes when the game crosses the ocean. The Yoshitaka Amano piece on FFVI is just a gorgeously intricate, evocative, brooding work. The American counterpart...well, let's just say that if someone drew that in Pictionary, my first guess would be "afterbirth":



In fact, when you look at the kinds of changes that Marketing makes to box art to make it "suitable" for Americans, it's kind of insulting (though in fairness, I don't know whether it is the Japanese parent or the American subsidiary directing the changes):



"Yeah, see that smiling guy on the right? Can't have that. Americans don't like smiling in their games. Not badass enough. Give him a sword too. And that 13-year old on the left? Let's slut her up a little - poof out the hair, enlarge her boobs, and make it look like she's giving the dick eye. Whew, I've been working like a dog, Bob. Think I'm gonna take a mental health day tomorrow."

Okay, fine, whatever, we get boobs. No biggie. But what always pissed me off the most as a kid when the American box looked nothing like the actual game:



When I buy a game because it has a picture of a man with gold panties on the box, I EXPECT A MAN WITH GOLD PANTIES IN THE GAME. I'm pretty sure that's in the Statute of Frauds.

Privatize the USPS Already!

Little known fact: among the illustrious legacies of King William 3.0 and Queen Mary 2.0 quietly lurks a more dubious distinction - they commissioned the spiritual progenitor of the United States Postal Service. If they had known how things would turn out they would undoubtedly have just awarded the contract to UPS.

I finally purchased a Super Famicom a couple of weeks ago, direct from Japan. Am I too old to play video games, you ask? Psh! Of course I'm too old.

Anyway, I came home the other day and saw the pink delivery attempt notice, which of course was attempted while I was at work. Seriously, why doesn't someone start a delivery business that delivers from 6:00 pm to 11:00 pm? I hate that pink slip.

But what's this? USPS now offers ONLINE redelivery scheduling! Awesome! I filled out the form to schedule delivery for today (since I am fortunate enough to be working from home), and got a confirmation notice. I was duly impressed by USPS for the first time since kindergarten. You already know how this is going to end.

The mailman arrives and my package is not delivered. I can schedule another pickup for the next time I'm home, Saturday, but that will have been five days since the original attempt, so if that request also flies off into the ether, the package will get sent back. TO FUCKING JAPAN. So assuming they didn't even bother to take it off the shelf at the post office, I rush there fifteen minutes before they close, and what do I see in front of me but this...

...A fucking douchebag couple waltzing in fifteen minutes before close with SIXTY FUCKING PACKAGES. Literally 62 or 63, no exaggeration. And of course they have to tape them up at the counter because they didn't bother to do that shit somewhere where there weren't 20 people waiting behind them.

I finally get to the counter and give them the slip, and the lady goes back and rummages around for a while. A long while. I start to panic. Could I have been wrong about the USPS? Perhaps there is a special mailman who just does redeliveries and he just hasn't reached my place yet.

She finally emerges from the back...with a box under her arm. Yeah, screw USPS.