Main article: The numbers gang
Whether you grew up playing video games or not, you’ve gotta admit that life would be at least slightly more entertaining if it were
more like one. Who doesn't like the idea of a moderately-challenging-yet-hopefully-beatable adventure that allows you the enduring legacy of your initials in the high score list instead of just pooping out a couple of ultimately disappointing children?
Gold coins, giant mushrooms, and fire flowers all sound a lot more interesting then meager paychecks, expensive, slow-working medications, and handguns (well, maybe not handguns).
And this, of course, is why
subcultures exist. Subcultures are sort of the extroverts way of giving life that interactive, themed feel that video games do for the escapist introvert. They typically spring up with more frequency in places that have greater-then-normal social inequality or too much free time. Take high school for example. Remember how many crazy
cliques and shit existed there? Really, nobody wants to think about bothersome things like curfews, detention, and academic achievement. Thus, teenagers wear embarrassingly ill-fitting clothing and meticulously climb (or fall) down an impeccably structured popularity hierarchy.
Kids these days...
On the other end of the life spectrum, senior citizens are subject to subcultures as well. Many retirees join the
Red Hat Society or
outlaw biker gangs. Gone, apparently, are the days of just reading the daily paper, building
ships in bottles, and quietly waiting for grim death.
Yet, perhaps the most renown subcultures belong to land of adults. Again, popping up more often where there’s more perceived inequalities and too much free time. Ergo, it should come as little surprise that one of the most feared subcultures comes from what's perhaps our most oppressive and free-time bequeathing institution of all;
prison.
Following the infallible
universal law #28, that things are generally more hardcore in Africa, perhaps the most feared of all the world's prison gangs is South Africa’s “
The Numbers Gang”. They might sound like a nostalgic group of
prohibition-era gangsters, with members named “Knuckles” and “Shifty”, or perhaps just a bumbling assortment of inept bad guys on some boring kids math-based game show, but trust me when I say that all the time they could have put into thinking up a more hardcore name was apparently spent on them actually becoming hardcore.
Don't F with Africa...
Concordantly, were you to put a quarter into the arcade game called “being-an-economically-disadvantaged-poor-black-youth-in-South-Africa-who-just-got-caught-for-robbing-a-grocery-store-and-sentenced-to-
Pollsmoor-prison” your horrific quest would probably look something like this:
Level 1: Joining the gang
Upon your arrival in prison, one of the first and most critical challenges would be successfully answering a riddle posited to you by your friendly local senior-rep for the gang. The example question given in the article is the following:
“It is raining, you are standing under and umbrella. I say to you I am getting wet, I may get sick. What are you going to do?”
If your answer was
“I invite you to share my umbrella”, you might want to consider pressing the
reset button. At that point you're dubbed an adorable “wyfie” and given housework (as wyfie’s are apparently not very liberated yet). This is of course why you actually never teach children to share, especially those children whom you know are most likely going to end up in prison.
During this interrogation, you might also want to consider
not ask clarifying questions such as whether or not the umbrella will fly you far, far away were you to tightly close your eyes and make a wish. Or if the fictional umbrella gives you a certain control over legions of small, flightless birds, similar
Batman’s nemesis,
The Penguin.
Really wanna share an umbrella with this guy?
If, however, your answer was
“I will come out into the rain with you”, congratulations! You just made it to level 2. You’re well on the way to assaulting people yourself!
Level 2-49: Rising through the ranks
Believe it or not, The Numbers Gang was actually founded in
1911, back when gangs in America consisted of trouser clad children rolling
hoops with a stick. Even stranger, the gang has folk-legend history more convoluted then that of
Mormonism. Contrasting with American prison gangs where you likely spend all your time selling commissary, earning a
GED, and creating poorly written rap songs, in South Africa you learn bizarre rituals and a cool, secret language.
Levels 2-49 are mostly spent rising through the ranks. Your rank is based on the experience score recorded on the upper left-hand corner of your screen. This experience is gathered by performing gross human rights violations upon your fellow prisoners.
...And for you game completionists, special side missions can be undertaken, such as entering into the gangs complicated
judiciary (yes, they ironically have one) or competing in a “
general election” which, much like elsewhere, means wholesale slaughter of everyone around you.
So you’ve made it to the last level. At this point, you’ve taken a beautiful wyfie and now get laid at a whim (unfortunately, never with a women), you have a professional, yet slightly ridiculous South African-based title like “
magistrate” or “
inspector”, and you wield a sharpened toothbrush with the skill and finesse of a rabid
Zorro.
Yet one day your wyfie goes mysteriously missing...
Your last mission, should you choose to accept it, will be to dethrone John Mongrel, the leader of the gang, and assume his role as de facto ruler of Pollsmoor prison.
Also, he likely kidnapped your wyfie as that helps build to the climax (I’m speaking of
narrative climax BTW).
Like any good end-game boss however, this will not be easy. Mongrel subsists exclusively on the flesh of fellow prisoners, regenerates magic points by sexually assaulting them, and wields a +5
shank of flaming.
Once he’s defeated however, you’re treated to the heart-warming final theatric sequence where you’re reunited with your beloved wyfie, a roll of the end credits, and a musical score that sounds strangely like a screaming cacophony of the thousands of people you defiled over the years during your bloody ascent to power.
Bonus points for escaping at some point.
Now it’s just a matter of waiting for the sequel; “Paroled: The
recidivism”.
Awesomeness tip: Fair warning, this article is actually pretty disturbing, even beyond the level of the
Popobawa. If you’re up for actually reading it (really?), as a bonus, see if you can figure out what the “slow puncture” is. If you can, describe the process to someone you care about and watch their reaction. Priceless. :D
Gather round my children, and I shall tell you a tale. A tale of something terrible. A tale of something so horrific, it will haunt not only your nightmares, but also your long plane trips and restaurant outings. That’s right; I speak of babies, those little bundles of endless screams and spit-ups. As you travel through this life you’re bound to encounter some. Hell, you might have even popped out a few. *gasp*
Still, it’s way too easy to hate on defenseless infants. Some might say it’s as easy as stealing candy from an overused cliché. This is because babies are so disgustingly coddled by each and every culture. Alright, so the Canaanites and their creative penchant for sacrificing babies to the fire god Moloch might be a slight exception. And yes, admittedly Vikings weren’t big fans either, but besides those guys, everyone universally loves babies. I’m pretty sure it’s some law or something.
But with the knowledge that you can actually now make your own baby Cyclops, it does raise a few interesting potentials. For example, are you looking for a creative method of abortion? Perhaps you’re trying to thwart a welfare mom from producing another litter? Or could you be an only child, threatened by the arrival of a younger brother or sister you never wanted?
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