Dave remembers his first issue of GameBro. He is young, at least on a scale of "cool little munchkin" to "super hella cool kid extraordinaire", which he hopes to one day achieve, hopefully without Bro extending a helping rump- hand.
He is walking through the store, staying close by Bro's side, Lil Cal sitting in the carriage seat as they go in search for some form of nutrients. After all, a cool guy like him and his big brother aren't going to grow into healthy well groomed fuckin' pieces of art without proper sustenance to fuel their ever expanding minds. It takes a lot to support the weight of a Strider, and the one thing that always hits the spot is…
Motherfucking Doritoes. Bro insists on getting some apple juice too, but who the fuck knows why; that guy always has something in mind, every little thing he does, a calculated move.
It's on the way to the cash register that Dave sees it; shimmering like a piece of fucking gold in a heap of trash magazines. GameBro? It looks majestic. It's wrapped in plastic, preventing him from reading the contents without physically opening the packaging; at 5 years old, that's nearly enough to put a man in jail. The only logical solution is to buy it.
Dave brings the magazine over to his brother, showing him the cover, the big bright bold font, so confident in itself, like it knows it's worth something. That's a great reason to buy it, Dave is sure it's going to be the best experience of his life. Granted, he knows better now, but at that age he was still young and impressionable. He is weak to the wiles of GameBro, the bright colors, the shitty graphics that he would eventually come to embrace as his trademark.
Bro tilts his head to look at the magazine being held up as high as Dave can possibly hold it, as though the higher he holds it the easier it's made for Bro to read, which would certainly secure it's purchase.
The thing with Bro is it's hard to tell where his eyes are at any given time. He may be facing a certain way but if he's actually looking in that direction is a mystery, hidden behind sharp black shades. Instead, Lil Cal slowly turns his head, his expressionless gaze bearing down on Dave.
"You really want that? HEE HEE!" Lil Cal screeches and Dave just snorts.
"I wouldn't bother asking if I didn't want it." He moves to the side of the carriage and tosses it in.
Bro just takes it in stride and bought the magazine, handing it over to Dave to read on the way home.
Young Dave holds the magazine like the Holy fucking Grail. Light shimmers down on it, glistening off it's big blue Comic Sans font, the cool kid on the cover just too cool for any natural human being. He must have been shooped, there is no other explanation.
The wrapping is discarded, feeling the virgin paper in his palms. If someone were to ask him when was the first time he fell in love, he would tell them right then and there.
He would also tell them it was the first time he had his heart broken.
The magazine is a piece of shit. He's just glad it wasn't HIS money he had spent on it.
It is an utter disappointment, and to his tiny self it feels quite close to the end of the world for the next week and a half.
After drowning himself in video games for a few hours every day, he returns to his bedroom to kick some wicked beats. However, this time around, he sees something strange sitting on his bed. There appears to be a magazine, a… a familiar magazine. A familiar piece of shit magazine. It's July's issue, with a note.
'You were looking pretty down so I got you the new edition of Gamebro. I read through it already hope you don't mind. Its pretty good for a piece of shit. Find something useful to do with it.
- Bro'
Dave is a little dumbfounded. Oh, so even Bro agrees it's a pile of trash? But he thinks it's good.
He sits on his bed and opens the new issue and notices there are sticky notes strewn throughout the pages, highlighting little bits and pieces, pointing to things and giving Dave an entirely new outlook on the magazine. It isn't just a piece of trash; it is a fucking gold mine…
This is how he begins his reviews, elaborately exaggerating and boasting the quality of the magazine, reviewing the reviews, and, in a sense, creating a master piece from a piece of shit.
When he is ten, he grows on his cool kid echeladder. He has been talking to this kid, ghostyTrickster. The kid is pretty nice, a little dense but tolerable. He is telling Dave about some magazine, he keeps seeing commercials for it, it seems really cool.
GT: it's so awesome. i'm going to ask my dad to for the new issue for my birthday.
TG: so what exactly is this thing called
GT: oh! it's GameBro. it looks wicked.
TG: first of all never say wicked again
TG: second of all game bro is a flaming pile of shit
GT: what! i bet you just don't like it because it gave one of your favorite games a bad review
GT: i bet it's awesome.
TG: hey dont ever say i didnt warn you bro
TG: youre going to get it and be like
TG: oh fuck bro this is garbage why did you let me waste one of my birthday presents on this shit
TG: its not even fit for burning i dont think i can even bury it with good conscience because it just deserves so much worse
GT: well, that's just your opinion i guess. i'm going to get it and i'll show you!
A week passes and another conversation with his good pall ghostyTricker is in the works.
TG: so what kind of sick loot did you nag for your birthday
GT: this movie con air, i'm not sure what it's about but it looks interesting.
GT: and…
GT: i got GameBro.
TG: okay
TG: and
GT: you were right.
TG: i warned you bro
TG: i told you dog
GT: i know i know.
GT: but it isn't SO bad… i mean, i guess some of the reviews are okay.
TG: okay look
TG: ill show you how to enjoy this shitty mag
Dave sends his young naive friend the link to his review site. In it, he has reviewed every. fucking. issue. since his first terrible experience with the monstrosity. ghostyTrickster is amused. From this, a friendship is made stronger, a new viewer is founded, and hope for the human race is raised just slightly as GameBro shittiness awareness is heightened by another soul who was unfortunate enough to fall victim to it's alluring clip art and bold claims.