?Goddammit, you guys did it again. Actually, although there were less entries in the supervillain contest than the superhero contest, there were more fantastic and hilarious ideas — keeping the Honorable Mentions to a reasonable amount was actually painful. My only consolation was that there were a lot of short, awesome entries so I could sneak in a few more than usual, such as these:
? Nostromo’s Second Android, for the amazing name Count Erfeit
? FireKraken, for Canada Manada
I am Missing Laundry Sock Man.
Yeah, that’s right, fuckers. It was me.
The TWITTERER. Like the riddler except he tweets his crimes, and they always get cut off right before you find out wh
? GreatSG, for pointing out that Michael Bay is actually a real life supervillain
? LadySheeana: My name would be ComisNix. I’d write terrible and scarring fanfiction.
I don’t need to make anything up, I am German and have an Arabic name that could be translated as Lucifer. That should be enough for two Bond Villians.
Also, a special mention for DoctorSmashy, who went wildly over the word count, but whose Post-It Note Man had the best scenario of any villain:
I leave post-it notes at the scene of all my crimes, a la The Riddler. They wouldn’t have clues on, though. They’d just be blank, or else they’d have crude caricatures of my superhero enemies with stink-lines, and goofy teeth and stuff. Or maybe just bad insults.
‘Look over there, Batman! A Post-It Note!’
‘I see it, Robin. Looks like Post-It Note Man got here first…. Let’s read it.’
‘”Batman and Robin are totally gaybones for each other, LOL?”‘
‘POST-IT NOOOOOOOOOTE MAAAAAAAAAN!!!!!’
More Honorable Mentions and winners after the jump.
I would be the Barman. A drink-mixer and tapmaster without peer, you can find me anywhere – from the lowliest of dive bars to the highest class $100,000 cover restaurant in world. Using my incredible booze related powers (And an occasionally generous helping of GHB) I’d be an information broker without peer among all of Supervillainy. No matter who they are, eventually every hero is going to have a bad day, one that will make them need a drink. And I’ll be there to pour them a shot and generously listen to their tales of misery and woe. How many shots of Jamison before Hal Jordon starts to tell me of his fear of refrigerators? How much more information can I get out of him? Ladies and gentlemen, I have the access codes to the JLA Watchtower, courtesy of a very strung out Wally West. Let’s start the bidding at $100,000,000, shall we?
My entry last week was too good, so I’ll mix it up a little.
I’m Doc-Doc-Doctor Dick
Thought I was a hero? Baby, it was just a trick!
Still spamming hentai all across the ‘net
Am I still a virgin? Well you’d win that bet!
I’m Doc-Doc-Doctor Dick
My shit would make fanfic authors sick
Furry, tentacle, dick girls, Na’vi
Putting it all out there for you to see!
Luffy and Zorro aren’t gay?
Who cares? I’ll post a pic anyway!
Nami getting raped by Bepo the bear?
Come on, try harder! I got gigs to spare
I am STEP STOOL! All my life I have felt insecure about my height; clothes never fit, can’t reach the cabinets in my own house… One day I won a t-shirt from toplessrobot.com but was informed that they were out of my size. I got a LARGE instead! I swore vengeance on all that is tall; people, buildings, and especially tress. I carry a step stool with me and use it to reach my enemies. I yell my battle cry “HOW’S THE WEATHER DOWN THERE?!” then chop their legs off at the knees. Unfortunately when I went to the store to buy a step stool.. they were on the top shelf.
I would be “THE FURMINATOR*.” I would walk the streets during lunch hour and rush out, corgi in hand, and rub him on random passers-by. He doesn’t bite or bark or growl, but he does SHED. It’s like he grows a brand new coat every day. At any rate, his hairy excess will stick to any piece of clothing. Expensive suits and wool coats would be his most successful targets. My victims won’t know what hit them until they looked down at the mass of corgi hair that has jammed itself into every fiber! Not even the power of a roller pad will get all that shit out! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I am man-who-mistook-his-wife-for-a-HAT MAN!
I use my fiendish powers to manifest bizarre neurological disorders in my opponents. Try to stop me when you suddenly have… UNILATERAL SPATIAL AGNOSIA AND YOU LOSE ALL CONCEPT OF “LEFT”! Try summoning help when you come down with TOTAL APHASIA *AND* MICROGRAPHIA! The world’s greatest fighters? ALIEN HAND SYNDROME! BWAHAHAHAHA!
Naturally, my one weakness is that my “powers” are “poking people in the brain with a needle.” And I have to get close enough to do that. And get through the skull. And it helps if they’re holding still…but I can make this work!
I would be “Lingering Doubt.” You would walk into MediocreBuy, and I’d ask you “Would you like to buy that Service Plan?”
You’d hesitate, but I’d give you a look, and boom. You’d be overcome with the thought of your purchase breaking down, and you’d cave-in.
Of course, I’d just pocket the cash, and when your item broke, you’d be SOL.
I would be The Brown Bomber. I’d be a Villain in the Villain community. “Oh Lex Luther you have an actual foe and world wide recognition for your evil deeds. Well Fuck You now I shall shit on your doorstep” That’s pretty much all I do shit on people’s doorsteps who are more successful at evil than I am
As the ‘Exchanger’, I would makes all my purchases with Canadian change. I would then resell it to unsuspecting Americans for American dollars, cheating them and making profit for myself. Currently my plans are on hold as at the end of Friday’s trading, the Canadian dollar is worth 1.00194 American dollars. But soon…SOON! Those American dollars with be mine, eh?
I am Dr. Bandwidth. By torrenting impossibly large quantities of moeshit anime, I will slow your Internet connections down to a crawl, thereby controlling the distribution of all information in the world.
The Re-Animator — Re-Animator makes horrible, Poochian abominations out of your favorite cartoons! List of victims includes: Strawberry Shortcake, My Little Pony, Barbie (yes, Re-Animator claims responsibility for the Bratz cartoon), and Ren and Stimpy (Adult Cartoon Party, anyone?). Re-Animator takes Ghostbusters and makes it Extreme! Re-Animator is most famous for making Garfield a CGI-rendered goblin whose mouth moves. That’s right, Garfield’s mouth moves, and everything you know and love from the 90’s will now seem lifeless and barren!
I am the Gamestopper. I go into Gamestop stores and rearrange the boxes, so that no one can ever find what they’re looking for. I also put sand in the employees shoes so that they’re always pissed off, put the expensive games in the bargain bin to trick customers, and put my greasy fingers all over the store displays. I don’t really have a nemesis, anyone with a sense of justice or decency would stay out of Gamestop anyway.
I would be The Line. I would first stand in a closed line and wait for something excitedly. After a while, people would line up behind me. Once they realize there is nothing for them in that line, they would join forces with me in an attempt to fool others. Occasionally, we’d stand in a real line just to mess with people. People would leave the line for the release of the latest popular new video games once they see The Line there. And no one would dare oppose me, for no one crosses The Line. No one
K.L. Droscha said:
I am Female Tesla.
Together, with my esteemed associates Girl Edison and La Femme Deforest, I would wreak havoc on the electrical devices of those who anger me….or look at me funny. My crime wave would start out small; switching the terminals of parked cars, un-grounding utility poles and shocking people with static. I would then terrify the masses with illuminating displays by my magnifying transmitter, and loot and pillage the local whole foods co-ops and Best Buys while they are distracted. I would then collapse all the oil-dependent societies by offering FREE electricity from the air. No one would DARE oppose me OR my particle guns. And when fools point out I cannot grow a mustache because I am a woman, I would incinerate them with one of my coils. My downfall would be my OCD tendencies and that backstabbing bitch, Edison, selling me out. That whore.
I AM PROFESSOR 2GIRLS1CUP!
I dress in a stain resistant brown leotard, and have several LCD screens attached to my chest and back. Anyone foolish enough to confront me will be subjected to highlights of erotic female coprophagia. My enemies will fall, gouging out their own eyes and begging me for death!
Along with my evil henchwoman, Tubgirl, we will embark on a crime spree that will leave the world reeling with horror!
The gang has gathered with glee
As we ready to play D&D
But their joy becomes pain
As they realize I’ll run the game
Of the traps they’ll be plenty
And all quite deadly
And monsters so fierce
With hides they can’t pierce
And as dungeon’s doors open
The players will be hoping
That they’re dice will roll right
And that mine shall roll shitte
As they travel, their terror grows
For none have made their saving throws
And what fate could be worse
Than to have your dice cursed
By that omniscient bastard
ME, THE DUNGEON MASTER!
I am Three-Wolf Man. Powers: My costume has three wolves on it howling at the moon, which suggests that I am a fierce hunter who travels alone, because of the term ‘lone wolf’, despite the fact that there are three wolves on my costume. Weaknesses: Only three wolves on my costume in the front. People can’t see the wolves when they’re behind me.
I am Seth McFarland Man. I harass all who enter my lair by referencing the flashbacks and musings from Family Guy every time somebody says anything. By the end, my victims dare not speak, lest they invoke a monologue of caveman pornography or a rendition of “Ding, Fries are Done”
I’d be “Dr. Halloween.” Instead of high-tech gadgets, I use old Halloween decorations (you haven’t lived till you’ve robbed a bank with nothing but a ‘spooky skeleton’). For every crime I’d have a different costume, Elvis, Dracula, Toilet-Paper mummy, you name it. In addition to garden-variety crime, I’ll sometimes come to your house and ask for candy. Woe betide you if you don’t have any (there’s still tp left over from the mummy costume). My henchmen would naturally be ‘Trick’ and ‘Treat.’ Both are dressed in slutty costumes, but only one of them is a woman.
I would be The Conquistador of the Useless. Whilst pretentiously quoting Tristan Tzara’s 1916 Dada manifesto (look it up), and wearing a pompous beret at an angle, I would set the hero completely arbitrary and pointless tasks that benefit no one, let alone myself, such as watching an entire boxset of Mad Men in one sitting, learning to knit or looking after a small puppy for a weekend. If he didn’t completely these exactly to schedule, I would unleash my fury on the city. Well, I’d pee in the reservoir.
I will be “The Baconator”. No longer will the obese masses be able to feed on the succulence of Bacon! I will steal it ALL! My days will be spent driving stolen trucks full of maple smoked goodness to my lair, and my nights spent laughing at the cries of anguish of those for whom the bacon cheeseburger will be a thing of the past. And my sidekick will of course be Kevin Bacon, assuming I can get him for scale…
The Nasal Nettler! I would sit in areas where people needed to concentrate (such as a quiet testing center or library) and let my nose whistle with each breath. It would slowly drive my victim mad as his brain repeatedly drifted away from his important mental task to focus on my obnoxiousness.
I start calling my victims, just to hear them breathe.
I visit them at their work unexpectedly and pretend it was coincidential.
I try and friend everyone on their Facebook pages so I can read my victims’ comments.
I always have their phone number. ALWAYS.
Anyone they love more than me, I take care of.
Then one night, I confront them in a dark place, crying as I cut off their heads and then cuddle with them on a nice boat out on the ocean. All because they couldn’t love me.
And they fear me: the Crazy X.
Hello again, Rob. We’ve never been formally introduced, but we’re well acquainted. I am the Final Fantasy Phantom, a being who perpetuates and preys upon the hopeless desire of gamers to see their once proud game franchises return to their former glory. I sow the seeds of possibility and feast on the bitter fruit of despair. I am the creator of epic cinematic trailers. I am the promoter extolling the virtues of each new installment. I am the hack game reviewers that gush with initial praise. Devastation is my vocation. Calamity, my cause. And I am practiced and proficient.
Blue Bebop said:
TOPLESS ROBOT!!!!! Acknowledge your creation! All these years of rejection and being ignored! My witty posts! Contests entries! FFF suggestions! Contest proposals! Emailed nerd tips! All in vain! This, while we readers feigned laughter at your painful puns and horrible jokes. Your sexual excretions and shameless fellatiating of Whedon. And my God the typos. All of this has disillusioned me. And being denied shirts I sorely deserved has made me as cold outwardly as I am inwardly. My erect nipples will reap havoc across the land. And all shall know that Bricken gave rise to the horror of Topless Cyborg!
Note that many of these entries could’ve won — perhaps even would’ve won — had they paid attention to my 100 word rule, which I said I would strictly enforce this time, and thus had to or else seem even more of a push-over than you guys already believe. Winners are on the next page.
We have three winners this week; I think we can safely say the first entry is a villain far too many nerds have battled in real life:
I will the the older gentleman type villain called “The Stepfather.”
I am the dream-guy of widowed mothers of nerds everywhere! My M.O. includes taking your mom for diner and having a good time then we make sweet, sweet love in your room, on your star wars bedsheets. Of course I will time this the moment you go into the room, and while me and your mom exchange moans of ecstasy, I will condescendingly comment on your pretty dolls and ask if you’re still a virgin (you are).
This one… well, you have to read it first:
Beretta Paige said:
(*Ahem* this was going to be my superhero but TR wouldn’t let me post last week for some reason. So…)
I am Sarcastaclise! Now stand still while I rape your mind with logic and subtly infer that your mother is a whore. Oh, no you’ve defeated me with that devastating blow, how could I ever have thought to be a match against your startling wit and wisdom. I’ve turned over a new leaf and dedicated myself to good. Let’s get a drink and here, try this totally new and healthy additive to your beer. Oh, don’t mind her that’s just my sidekick, Small Girl in a Lot of Coats. Why does she wear so many coats? F*** you, that’s why!
I’m not ashamed to tell you Beretta gets the win purely because of Small Girl in a Lot of Coats, a henchwoman whose name I cannot read without literally laughing out loud every single time. I would so, so read that comic. Last but certainly not least:
I am an outcast. A freak. Spawn of an impossible union.
Torn between desires to skewer and latent instincts to cradle and uplift.
But I have been scorned, mocked for too long. My brethren have basked in light of sterling silver, cast in stainless steel, while I wither in my cheap, fragile shell; discarded and rotting. So just as I have been starved for recognition, so too shall I starve the world to my satisfaction. They shall grasp their sustenance only after they grasp my pain.
And upon proving my mettle, I shall have my metal.
I am Spork.
And the last entry is definitely The People’s Choice, and I can’t help but agree. Good concept, perfectly executed. I will never again be able to think if the Spork as anything other than the maligned supervillain of the utensil world, and by god if that’s not worth a TR shirt, I don’t know what it. Thanks to everyone who entered, as usual. Don’t let the superheroes get you down.