This One on One interview is extremely adult-oriented and absolutely not safe for work. So, if you’re a whiny-ass bitch who’s gonna cry about intentionally disturbing, fictional humor, it’s now your own damn fault if you stick around and get offended. Trust me, you’re really asking for it. Besides, it’s Halloween. Get over it.
For those still with us, read on!
Opening salutational catchphrase, nerds! I’m your host, the Requiem, and it’s time to celebrate All Hallow’s Eve, SEGA-style! Since 2015 marked the 20th anniversary of the SEGA Saturn’s launch in America, I thought we’d speak to a long lost icon from the SEGA Saturn days… Fellow SEGA nerds, say hello to Mr. Bones! Say hi, Mr. Bones!
Mr. Bones: Uh, hi!
Requiem: Thanks for being with us today, Mr. Bones!
Mr Bones: Sure… Sure.
Requiem: You know, you probably don’t remember this, but I actually first met you at Six Flags in 1996.
Mr. Bones: Oh, yeah?
Requiem: Yeah! It was during the Six Flags “Fright Night” Halloween festival, which I think they call “Fright Fest” now. SEGA had set up a promotional booth under an awning with SEGA Saturn consoles and Mr. Bones games at the ready for Fright Night patrons to try out. It was really cool. That was also how I first played Sonic CD a few years prior. Those were the days, eh? Back in the Ferg when SEGA had a marketing budget!
Mr. Bones: Heh, heh. Yeah.
Requiem: Regardless, SEGA clearly expected your game to be big. Sony’s PlayStation had walloped them for a year. SEGA was pushing their exclusives hard in 1996, and Mr. Bones was definitely a big part of that push. There was the Mr. Bones kiosk at Six Flags, I also seem to remember a Mr. Bones contest of some kind… Man! Mr. Bones was everywhere!
Mr. Bones: …
Requiem: You okay? You look really uncomfortable.
Mr. Bones: No, um, can you please call me Sammy instead of that other name?
Requiem: Instead of Mr. Bones?
Mr. Bones: Y-yeah.
Requiem: I guess so. You’re the guest after all. Mr. Bones is still the name most SEGA nerds will recognize you by, though, so may I ask why?
Mr. Bones Sammy: It triggers me.
Requiem: Oh, fuck off! No way.
Sammy: Hey! Whatever happened to being polite to your guests?
Requiem: Holy shit! You’re serious? Your own fucking name “triggers” you?
Sammy: Yeah. Yeah it does.
Requiem: Daaaaaaaamn! That’s fucked up, but okay, we’ll run with it. So where were we? Right…. Sammy, it seems that SEGA really expected your game to be a hit. What was that pressure like?
Sammy: Thanks for understanding, by the way. To answer your question, I didn’t really feel any pressure back then. Somehow the wizards at SEGA found a way to resurrect me, and the SEGA promotional team told me all about how I was going to be a superstar, and that I should just sit back and let Ed work his magic.
Requiem: You mean Ed Annunziata, the creator of Mr. B… uh, your game as well as the Ecco the Dolphin series?
Sammy: Yeah. That’s the guy. Nice guy.
Requiem: Then why won’t he ever be on our damn podcast, I wonder?
Sammy: Wait, what?
Requiem: Nothing. So in addition to Ed Annunziata, you also got to work with guitar legend Ronnie Montrose. What was it like to jam with him?
Sammy: It was all a dream. Ronnie was extremely gracious and we had some legendary jam sessions. I was living large, high on the promises that my super-stardom was all but guaranteed. One guy told me that I was going to be the Sonic for the new generation. SEGA expected me to save the Saturn. I guess you could say that should have caused some pressure, but it really didn’t. I just had to do my job, and then fame, fortune, and all that entails would be coming my way soon.
Requiem: You mean the ladies, right? The ladies with loose knees and big boobs?
Sammy: Damn, man! Are you twelve?
Requiem: Moving on to the game itself… your game is known for being truly genre-defying. Almost every stage is different. There are stages that are like endless runners, others like quick-time-events, some like rhythm games, and of course more traditional platformer stages. What part of the game was your favorite?
Sammy: Definitely the guitar stages. I just love to jam.
Requiem: Is that what you’re doing now? How are you getting by these days? Or did SEGA give you a sweet deal upfront and you’ve been coasting on that for the past 20 years?
Sammy: I didn’t get anything. The game bombed, and I was out on the street. With all of the promises SEGA made, I’d racked up a huge debt and haven’t really recovered.
Requiem: Oh, man! You totally got boned!
Sammy: Ugh… We went over this.
Requiem: What? “Boned?” I can’t say anything with the word “bone” in it?
Sammy: Please. Please don’t.
Requiem: So no “boner,” “bonesaw” or Tron Bonne?
Sammy: Fuck you, man! Stop it! Stop it!
Requiem: You know what? No. Fuck you. I’m calling bull-shit on your “trigger” unless you tell me what the fuck is wrong with saying “bone.” It’s your fucking name.
Sammy: Fuck this. I’m leaving.
Requiem: The fuck you are, bitch! You signed a contract, and if you don’t fulfill it to the satisfaction of me and SEGANerds.com, you’re in breach. Not only will you not get paid, but we’ll sue the shit out of you. Do you think I do these interviews without doing any research first? I’m a goddamn video game journalist! A king among men! I already know you can’t afford to miss this interview, much less get sued over it. So go on. Tell everyone. Tell everyone where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing for the last twenty years.
Sammy: You mother fucker…
Requiem: Goddammit, Bones!
Sammy: I’ve… been living on the street. Fame never panned out, so I’m broke. In debt.
Requiem: *A-hem!* And you couldn’t fall back on your musical skills?
Sammy: You already fucking know I couldn’t. Nobody will touch a musical dead guy. I’m the worst kind of “has been,” one that never was. I tried. I tried. (*Sniff!*) But, but…
Requiem: Buh, buh, buh!
Sammy: Goddamn you’re a fucking ass hole, Requiem! Nobody wanted to listen to my brand of electric blues. It’s a style that’s as dead as I am. I even contacted Lord Raptor from the Darkstalkers games. You know him?
Requiem: Yeah. We’ve hung out.
Sammy: I thought maybe we could do a project together, but our sounds were too different.
Requiem: Why didn’t you try to get a job in games but in a smaller role, like an enemy skeleton in a Castlevania game or something?
Sammy: The Castlevania skeletons are all unionized and they haven’t taken any new guys in since the beginning. Why do you think Konami isn’t making proper Castlevania games anymore? The damn skeleton union kept demanding more, and driving up the cost of production.
Requiem: And what’s the name of the skeleton union?
Sammy: Fuck you.
Requiem: What is the name of the skeleton union, bitch?
Sammy: The… the Bonesters. Fuck you, ass hole!
Requiem: No Mr. Bones for the Bonesters, eh? Tragic. So what have you been up to then? You had to do something to make ends meet somehow, right?
Sammy: …
Requiem: Right?
Sammy: I’ve prostituted myself. You fucking happy?! Fuck you! Fuck you, Requiem! You don’t know what it’s like to be resurrected, to be greeted with countless empty promises, and then to be left with nothing. I had NOTHING!
Requiem: There it is. See? There’s a good, fellow. That wasn’t so bad, was it? So naturally, you then turned to the world’s oldest profession… a fleshless whore! Ha! And now, why don’t you go ahead and tell us why, Mr. Bones, why is the word “bone” a trigger word for you?
Sammy: Because… (*sobbing*) Because I always hear the same thing from my Johns. “Time to bone Mr. Bones!” or “Lookie there, I got a boner for Bones!” Every time! Every goddamned time!
Requiem: It’s weird though. I would think that there is a very small market of prospective clients for an undead call-skeleton. Surely… Surely you must have had a specialty service?
Sammy: Goddammit, Requiem. No. Fuck you.
Requiem: Yes, yes. A particular service that you alone were uniquely equipped to provide, perhaps?
Sammy: …Oh, my God… oh my God, I’m triggering so bad… Please stop…
Requiem: Yes, Mr. Bones. The dreaded SKULL-FUCK.
Sammy Mr. Bones: Oh, God, I can’t breathe…
Requiem: Shut up, Bone-bag! You don’t even have any fucking lungs! Now if you can find a way to calm your bitch-ass down and tell us about it, I’ll throw in an extra three bucks. You would like to eat tomorrow, wouldn’t you?
Mr. Bones: It… It was awful! Fuck you! It first happened at a frat party. These guys… these fucking frat boys… they were drunk off their asses, and one of them turned to me and said “Hey, Bone face, you ever been skull-fucked?” Before I could even think of a proper response, he…. he had already grabbed my head and… and…
Requiem: Shoved his dick in your eye?
Mr. Bones: Yes! Oh, God! It was awful. It hurt so much, but I was paid really, really well for it, so it sort of became my thing. Frat parties were a gold mine for me. But it still terrifies me every time before we get started. Do you know what it’s like to have the semen of dozens of guys sloshing around in your skull? Do you have any idea what it’s like to being triple-penetrated in your face?
Requiem: Just triple? I would think those guys could at least give quadruple penetration a go. It’s not like your face has cheeks.
Mr. Bones: Huh. Ha. Ha-ha. Yeah.
Requiem: Hey, you laughed, Bones! Isn’t this therapeutic? You’re getting it all out in the open and working out your issues instead of acting like a child, complaining about “triggers,” triggers which don’t help you confront and overcome your problems and only serve to make everyone else uncomfortable at the same time.
Mr. Bones: Yeah. Yeah, this feels good. It is better. I… I can’t believe it.
Requiem: That’s because I’m a goddamned miracle worker. I want to thank you for being here with us at SEGA Nerds.
Mr. Bones: No, thank you, thank you!
Requiem: Now, before you go? What’s your going rate for a proper skull-fuck?
Mr. Bones: Wait, what? Are you serious?
Requiem: Oh, yeah! You only live once, right? Well, twice, for you… Anyway, I’m still not letting this opportunity slip me by. How’s ten bucks sound?
Mr. Bones: No way! I usually get at least fifty bucks per dick!
Requiem: Okay, I can go up to fifteen, but you have to promise to call me Alex Kidd the whole time.
Mr. Bones: I don’t know… isn’t very much.
Requiem: You got a long line of gentleman callers waiting as soon as you leave here?
Mr. Bones: …No. Goddamn it. Okay. I’ll… take fifteen.
Requiem: Hell yeah! Let’s do this! (*unzips pants*) A boner for Mr. Bones!
Mr. Bones: Ow! Shit! Go slower, that’s my fucking eye!
Requiem: Your skull is so dry, bitch! They should call you “Dry Bones” like that shitty Mario character! Oh, man! It still feels so good! I’m boning Mr. Bones! I’m boning Bones!!!
Mr. Bones: (*Crying like a trigger warning-peddling bitch*) Why can’t I stop? Oh, God! Why can’t I stop… Alex Kidd…?
Happy Halloween!
