In case you hadn't noticed, we're currently running a Street Fighter: Assassin's Fist competition. If you're keen on picking up a custom arcade cabinet worth $3,550 you might want to head here. There's still time to enter!
In the meantime, here are some entries that leaped out at me so far...
Worth noting that if you've entered already and I didn't post your entry, that doesn't mean you're not in the running. I haven't actually gone through them all yet!
Good luck everyone. "'""
E. Bike Mison Li
E. Bike Mison Li jr was created sometime during 1991 in a secret laboratory deep in Antartica, combining DNA from the greatest fighters the world had available at the time. The goal was to create the greatest fighter known to man in an attempt to take over the world defeating all that opposed. But by the time the experiment was ready for deployment, there were more than twice the amount of fighters to oppose them and the experiment was not equipped to deal with them. Not only that, but the fighters it was made to defeat had gotten increasingly stronger and more capable. Eventually it was decided that the program should be shut down. Not knowing what to do with the experiment, they released him into the wild where he eventually became a successful Hollywood stunt actor.
His special moves include poor imitations of many famous fighters including: -Howtoken? -Sureican -Yolo Fire -Flailing bird kick -Sonic Boom and Knuckle -Static Storm
His super special move is Shinku Fake Heart-attack where he starts charging up an energy attack then fakes a heart attack, when the opponent comes over to check if he is alright BAM! Suckerpunch.
Old Man Serrels
Suspended only by his trained hands, from an immense cliff. The desolate dessert of the Australian outback lay behind him, outstretched as if solely for the man's eyes to see. From his vantage point, the entirety of the oddly beautiful landscape was visible.
His arms began to ache. As he had learned in his many hours of training, the man supported his weight with his knees and a secure foothold and let go. He shook his arms; the motion was intended to help remove the build up of lactic acid his climb had produced. The pale journalist leaned back, peering up to discern the length of the journey left before him.
The mid-morning sun was blinding. Unlike the view below, the skies were impossible to see; censored by the sun itself. The man rubbed his eyes. The light had left his vision temporarily useless. Tears streaming from his now painful eyes, the man’s other senses were sharpened. He found he was not as alone as he had previously thought. Somewhere above him, he heard a strange noise; similar to that of a plastic bowl scraping across a kitchen bench, yet somehow not. He listened harder. The unusual noise had closed some of the distance between them. It was now almost up on him. Deprived of his sight, the terrified journalist grew increasingly paranoid of his surrounds. He no longer felt as though the rocky surface was natural to move along. The noise was now unbearably close; the man could not hold his blinded eyes closed for any longer and thrust them open.
Through his clouded, teary vision, the man witnessed the strangest sight he would ever see. While his surroundings were blurred beyond recognition, the origin of the noise was entirely perceivable; a glowing green bowl of porridge was rapidly descending the sheer drop of the jagged cliff side. The man’s face dropped; the radioactive breakfast cereal had lunged toward him, and he knew it would be his end. As an excruciating pain erupted in his arm, the rock-climbing prodigy lost his grip; a chemically unstable bowl of porridge crunching down on his professional arms of glory, the proud journalist fell to his doom. His stomach sunk below his knees as he fell. Struggling to comprehend what had just occurred and with a thick Scottish brogue that was near impossible to understand for any voice recognition software, the man uttered his last words: “Bugger!”
A cloud of red sand settling, the ginger journalist rose to his feet. The soft sand had cushioned his fall, saving him from certain death. He looked down. Confused as to why, he found himself unsurprised to see that his climbing shorts had been replaced by a beautiful green kilt, yet his climbing shoes remained. His body, now rippling with impossible amounts of muscle, twitched as thoughts of age-old street fighting techniques rushed through his consciousness. A nearby kangaroo looked at the man; its mouth hanging in disbelief, eyes wide and a single eyebrow raised, questioned the man as calmly as it could. “Strewth! Who the bloody hell are you?” The man smiled. “They call me Old Man Serrels.” With a simultaneous crack of every bone in his body, Serrels continued. “And I need to find a fighting tournament!” The kangaroo stared in confusion “Mate. I can’t understand a single word you’re saying. You gotta be a Scot or something, because I’m more confused than an Xbox One”. Serrels chuckled and took a deep breath. He stomped on the ground with a single leg, and shouted “Hard-oats-ken”. A gigantic bowl of glowing green porridge, identical to that which had previously bitten him, erupted from his hands and shattered a nearby rock.
Smiling at his obviously genius special move, Old Man Serrels set off in search of a street fighting tournament, leaving the desolate beauty of the Australian dessert behind him. The kangaroo bounded off, hurrying in the opposite direction of this obvious competition winner.
Awesome Fight Guy
By Lisa's son
Messu - Man: His special move is to clean up and stop fights before they start: Turning the other cheek. Teaching my son to walk away and only to strike in self defence.
(Editor's note — Messu Man wasn't made in Microsoft Paint, but how could I not include that!)
There's still time to enter the competition. Head here for details!