Anyone who read the original version of this on my Facebook knows where it’s going. What a treat for you all.

In third, Bloody Mary from Terranigma. She’s an unstoppable bitch-whore from hell. No matter how much you power-level your little guy, he inflicts ONE POINT of damage on Bloody Mary. Even if you manage to not get killed at all, it’ll take you about an hour to finish her off. And the whole time she just dances around, waving that sceptre, baiting you. Git.

In second, The Girl and The Sprite from Secret of Mana. They get stuck on bits of scenery. They try to sprint straight through enemies instead of around them, preventing you from leaving the room – and thereby getting you killed. A lot. And when they try to do something useful, it’s usually along the lines of running right up to a monster covered in spiked armour and punching it. Unless, that is, the Sprite is using his default boomerang. Yeah, you try to kill the enormous, sorcerous tiger-beast with your blue plastic boomerang. I’ll be in the pub. Asshat.

The champion, to the surprise of no one who has ever spoken to me about him, is Tails. He reached a new low of unjustified whiny smugness in Sonic Adventure, but even before that he silently taunted us with his seemingly deliberate failures. And what was the worst part of his dickishness? Not his refusal to carry Sonic to safety even though he can fly. Not his running around at random like a coke-fuelled gnome with two feather dusters stapled to its pants. No. It was his goddamn immortality. He’d die in the most pathetic, moronic ways and you’d think at last you’d managed to shake off the simpering little fuck. A shame it had to be so brutal, but it’s for the best. But no. A few seconds later he twirls his way back to your side, goofily oblivious to his recent grisly demise. He’s either the fox version of Father Dougal, or a malicious bastard parading his undeserved immortality in front of his terrifyingly fragile ‘best friend’. “You’re a hero whose only protection is your own spiked body and a small collection of cheap jewellery. I am a clingy whingebag whose greatest contribution to your endeavours is repeatedly crashing my home-made plane, but I get to be a frigging gatling-gun messiah, bursting from my grave a dozen times a minute. And you know what? I LIKE IT.”

Look at that face. Look at those eyes. Tell me he isn’t laughing at you.

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