By Jonathan Klotz
| Updated 5 minutes ago

One thing you’ll notice when you’re (re)watching Stargate SG-1, is that Daniel Jackson (Michael Shanks) dies a lot. By the time he dies in Episode 12, “Fire and Water,” his death count is up to three (the movie, and “Nox”), which is a little high for a regular human. Then again, he doesn’t really die in “Fire and Water,” so should that even count? Stargate Command gives him a full funeral with military honors so to my mind, it counts as another notch for “Daniel Jackson is Dead.”

Daniel Jackson Is Dead. Again. For The Third Time.

“Fire and Water” opens with SG-1 coming back earlier than expected from their latest mission, looking all sad and dejected as Hammond asks what went wrong, and learns that “Jackson is dead.” Before the opening credits we see the whole military funeral, O’Neill (Richard Dean Anderson) giving a touching eulogy where he admits that Jackson is the heart of the team. Out of anger, O’Neill, likely a little drunk off of Molson’s, takes out the window of a car with a hockey stick (look quick and you’ll note it says “Anderson” on the stick) and angrily demands they movie it. It’s Hammond’s car, prompting a suddenly much calmer O’Neill to tell his boss that he needs to replace that window. 

The SG-1 team slowly realizes that Daniel isn’t dead. Something messed with their minds to make them think he was. Turns out, Daniel’s alive, underwater in the lair of the aquatic merman Nem to help solve the thousand-year old mystery of what happened to his mate, Omoroca. We learn that Omoroca and Nem helped teach the ancient Babylonians until she was murdered by Belus, who of course, was a Goa’uld System Lord. It all goes back to the Goa’uld. 

The Math Ain’t Mathing

The merman like Nem is played by Gerard Plunkett, who first appeared on Stargate SG-1 as Councilor Tuplo in “The Broca Divide,” starting the trend of actors playing multiple aliens during the show’s decade-long run. Nem never reappears, nor is he or Omoroca mentioned again, perhaps because someone behind the scenes did the math and realized the pair’s involvement with the ancient Babylonians and also the Goa’uld broke the timeline.

Jackson tells Nem that Omoroca helped inspire the Tau’ri rebellion against the Goa’uld. That took place in 3000 B.C.E. in Egypt, yet Jackson says Nem was on Earth 4,000 years ago working with the Babylonians. That maths out to roughly 2000 B.C.E., or a thousand years after the rebellion. Goa’uld being active on Earth and acting as Gods past that point doesn’t work with the timing of the burial of the Stargate. 

“Fire and Water” is another in the long line of episodes that introduces an advanced species with deep ties to the roots of human civilization that we never see again. Get used to it, even Stargate Atlantis does this years later. It’s also not the last time that Jackson is killed in the line of duty. On its own, it’s a bit of an empty episode that alludes to bigger things, though it does get a little credit for Nem’s planet Oannes not looking like the woods of Vancouver for once. 

EA Sports announced it will remove all paid progression options from College Football 27‘s Dynasty and Road to Glory modes, reversing a decision that drew significant backlash from fans and content creators following the game’s launch.

In a statement posted to social media during the game’s launch week, the developer acknowledged that player feedback indicated the microtransactions “missed the mark.”

The studio said the paid options had been “added independent of deeper mode progression with the aim to give players more choice,” but conceded that “what you’ve said is that they’re not adding the value we intended.” EA said the changes would take effect the following morning, though it warned that players with existing College Point balances would lose the ability to apply them to Road to Glory or Dynasty once the features were removed, urging fans to spend their points beforehand.

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The reversal follows a wave of criticism after College Football 27‘s release, with fans organizing around the hashtag #CFBPlayDontPay to voice frustration over microtransactions appearing in the game’s single-player offline modes. The system allowed players to spend real money to instantly boost their coach or player’s development. For example, maxing out a coach in Dynasty from the start could cost as much as $100, more than the price of the game itself.

Compounding the frustration, EA also removed sliders that let players in College Football 25 and 26 manually adjust how much experience they earned, a feature that had let people level up faster without paying. With that option gone, spending money became the only way to speed up progression, which is what drove much of the backlash.

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Notably, the statement stopped short of ruling out microtransactions from the franchise going forward. EA said its “goal for live service plans in CFB28 and beyond will be to deliver valuable features and content with greater transparency and communication” — language suggesting paid content will return in some form in next year’s edition, even as the company walks back the current game’s implementation.

By Robert Scucci
| Updated 3 hours ago

When was the last time you watched 1993’s Demolition Man? It’s one of those movies that feels like a sci-fi classic because it is. Whenever I talk about it with people who haven’t seen it in a while, or even revisited it as an adult, I always get the same answer, something along the lines of, “That movie is so dumb.” It’s the same treatment Starship Troopers gets when people only experience it at face value. In actuality, it’s a perfect satire about future life that reminds me more of Idiocracy than anything else, just in a more sophisticated, less overtly slapstick kind of way.

That is all to say, if it’s been a minute since you’ve watched Demolition Man and you’re of the mind that it’s not a very smart movie, you might want to give it another shot. If you picked up on the satire the first time around, I’d still suggest another watch because it’s such a fun movie.

But if you’re asking, and I’m being real here, I still don’t know what the three seashells are used for in the bathroom.

Swearing Is Illegal, But Taco Bell Is A Black Tie Experience

I’m not going to spend too much time talking about the plot to Demolition Man because it’s pretty barebones. What really sells the movie is the world it inhabits, and how the worldbuilding is drip-fed to us instead of ever being explicitly explained. It’s the same thing Officer John Spartan (Sylvester Stallone) experiences when he wakes up in the year 2032 and suffers the worst kind of culture shock.

John’s problems started in 1996 while facing off against the most charismatic psychopath ever committed to film in the form of Wesley Snipes‘ Simon Phoenix. When a hostage situation goes horribly wrong, resulting in piles of dead hostages thanks to John’s miscalculation, both John and Simon are convicted and sentenced to lengthy terms at the California Cryo-Penitentiary.

During a parole hearing in 2032, a thawed Simon escapes and embarks on a crime spree that’s inadvertently facilitated by the “subliminal rehabilitation techniques” used during his incarceration, allowing him to adapt to his new surroundings with an alarming amount of precision. Given John Spartan’s history with Simon Phoenix, Officer Zachary Lamb (Bill Cobbs) advises Lieutenant Lenina Huxley (Sandra Bullock) that the best course of action is to thaw John out and let him loose after his arch nemesis.

Woozy from cryosleep and in a complete state of shock over how different life is in 2032, John has his work cut out for him. He’s familiar with Simon’s modus operandi, but everything else is foreign. Why is he now living in the city of San Angeles? Why is eating at Taco Bell a formal affair? And WHAT THE HELL ARE THE THREE SEASHELLS FOR?!

Somebody, please, answer me.

World Building Through Serious Scene Chewing 

One thing that Demolition Man doesn’t get enough credit for is its unwillingness to explicitly lay out how society works in 2032. The advantage this offers is twofold. We’re just as confused as John Spartan when he receives written citations for swearing and engaging in other carnal pleasures now deemed immoral. John is a smart guy who relies on instinct when he’s in his element, but the world he came from no longer matches the one he now lives in. Most of the humor comes from him asking questions that anybody in 2032 would take for granted, resulting in bemused stares and stifled laughter despite the fact he’s serious as a heart attack.

On the other side of the coin is Wesley Snipes, whose scene-chewing charisma steals every single scene. He’s mentally enhanced thanks to the “rehabilitation” program, and basically all that means is that he’s one step ahead of everybody because he possesses talents he never had before. The dude is running around hacking computers, stealing weapons, and cackling every step of the way. Snipes in Demolition Man has the same energy he brings to White Men Can’t Jump (1992), but instead of conning Woody Harrelson as a means of survival, he’s dead set on unleashing absolute chaos and antagonizing the very officer who locked him up decades earlier.

Rounding out the cast is Sandra Bullock with her portrayal of Lenina Huxley. While Stallone and Snipes dish out cynicism in healthy doses, Bullock brings a child-like sense of naivety with her fascination for late 20th century culture, something she’s only learned about through history lessons. This naturally evolves into a romantic entanglement between Lenina and her new de facto partner, John, who’s from the very time and culture she’s obsessed with. It’s an odd-couple dynamic given how apprehensive they are toward each other at the beginning of the film, but it leaves them both with plenty of room to grow by the time the credits roll.

Demolition Man earns its keep as a satire because it shows instead of tells. The city of San Angeles in 2032 is as perplexing as it is amusing, and we’re learning about it alongside John when we’re dropped into this world. The logic is established early on, but the incidental things we take for granted, like going to the bathroom (again with the shells), are left open to interpretation. The film merely alludes to the franchise wars before dropping you into the ridiculousness of a formal Taco Bell dinner. Before long, you’re used to the profanity-policing drones, and you’re completely immersed in the world. 

If you’re willing to give Demolition Man a second chance, overdue for a rewatch, or simply never saw it, you can stream it on Tubi for free as of this writing.