Nerding Day: Edgy 1990s Video Game Ads 🌭

Greetings, fellow Squeeg. I am humbled that so many of you emerged from your chrysalises for this, and there will be pseudopod soaking pools made available following the presentation. Please refrain from vibrating each others’ applause-organelles until the end.

Our invasion of the pathetic world known as Earth is nearly upon us, and as such our science and recon teams have returned with a trove of fresh information that will make subjugating the ape-men a fairly simple matter. By gathering what the humans call “'90s video game ads,” we believe we have cobbled together a full picture of their social structures and any potential resistance they may muster against our forces.

Let us begin.

Here we see the inherently craven nature of humanity of full display. Note the delight father and son share as they manhandle their gaming robots. They show absolutely no concern for the small man being kicked to death, easily visible through their view-port. Instead they gaze creepily at one another under the banner of “domestic violence,” which can only take the form of bare-ass whipping with controller cords. These two humans are easily distracted, and can be probed without risk.

Here we see a stark example of human cruelty - a man jamming his crotch into a gaming robot with or possibly without its consent. His penis, thus digitized, is projected onscreen at larger-than-life size to stoke the user’s ego. So fascinated by his own phallus is he, he has neglected to lay hands on his mate, immediately reneging on the promise of domestic violence. Humans are a fickle and erratic bunch.

This gentleman, clad in the traditional garb of an Earth zookeeper, proudly displays the lower animals he has confined to a tiny handheld prison. Also it’s pretty racist.

The suggestion that one devour a sentient creature is bad enough, but here we see the shocking lack of hygiene which is standard for humans. Note the filthy fingernails and runny feces spread across the lower cracker. Our top scientists also take this image as evidence that the human fist may be detachable, and should be avoided at all costs.

Yet again, the human need for tiny windows filled with simple colors and lights is prized above a potential mate. It is our contention that the species may soon wipe itself out through sheer lack of procreation. Nevertheless, we recommend a full-scale invasion in the near future, as they appear to have set their sights on Saturn.

If you lacked the conviction that humanity must be subjugated, look no further than this sacrilege. The quote in question originates in Edge Magazine, the planet’s leading periodical on the topic of edging. Humans would rather coax each other to thunderous orgasms than submit to the will of the holy one, blessed be He.

What’s blue and pisses all over everything? The Alderian Schraktbeest, as we all know. Not only do the humans crudely co-opt our own bestiary, they have forced an unwitting female to birth a creature full of spikes, wearing shoes, and with drink in hand. Her genitals, presumably, are in ruin. Also, note along the bottom that the Earthlings have begun to dabble in rudimentary palindrome technology, meaning it’s only a matter of time before they sit on a potato pan, Otis.

WARNING: the humans have developed the ability to submerge indefinitely. Females are attracted to the blue mating spikes displayed by this male, presumably leading to the birth of the blue thing that pisses everywhere. The nearby hash pipe is merely more evidence of their depravity.

There’s no other way to say it: that man is sexually assaulting a Sega Game Gear. On the bright side, those planning our offensive strategy believe we can blind our opponents simply by fondling their genitals over a protracted length of time, making our invasion all the simpler. See how the fools broadcast their weaknesses!

This is a photorealistic rendering of the human birthing process. As the shrieking progeny rips its mother in twain, it is already being prepared for battle by a cadre of vicious mutants whispering words of death into its ears. And don’t worry about the implied threat…our best minds are currently working on a weapon capable of delivering triple trouble, for which the Earthlings will be woefully unprepared.

It’s becoming clear that humans do most of their gaming in the nude. This puts us at a distinct advantage, since we do most of our conquering in fully-mechanized battle suits. Admittedly, our terran merchandologists had many conflicting interpretations of what in all the Star Hells may be happening here. Their Trick Style conclusions may be off, and catastrophically so.

The humans appear to make love as we do. When a suitable mate has been selected, they are targeted for a full cloaca evacuation. All fluids, all waste, all at once. "THE EAGLE HAS LANDED," they call it. Such allure could end up testing the loyalty of our soldiers.

Some of you may have taken issue with my repeated assertion that there is little separation between mankind’s genital apparatus and their gaming robot. I trust this will put the matter to rest. Whether or not such fondling leads to the aforementioned blindness, we are vigorously testing on our abductees. Unfortunately, so far most of them seem to enjoy it. Curse the indomitable spirit of these creatures and their rupturing pelvis tubes.

Here a human female describes her son’s genitals to another, who admits to electrically torturing someone named Johnie, an objectively incorrect way to spell Johnny. We must assume from this she has no son, and instead stalks the night, looking for young boys’ genitals to plug into wall sockets. How can our invasion fail when they turn against one another in such numbers? When mere proximity to something penis-like destroys their instincts and language centers?

Curse these beasts. How can creatures so repulsive, so foreign… be so like us? By the pleasure ferreted trousers of Squarr, these Earth monsters are unpredictable. Yet by studying '90s video game ads, and '90s video game ads only, we have uncovered the heart of humanity, and it is ripe for the plucking. These ghost-trapping robot rapists will soon swear fealty to the Squeeg Imperium! All hail Tuxibo, Emperor of Saturn and Lord of Never Misconstruing Things!

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsors and Hot Dog Supremes: Zach and Eva, notoriously untentacled and probeless. Trust them with your orifices, human!

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