Pooh's Baseball Match: Japan's Newest Form of Flash-Based Torture - Games

[QUOTE=Jacob_sword;39111384]So what is the Japanese one harder then the English one or something.[/QUOTE] yes

[QUOTE=elowin;39111390]yes[/QUOTE] I've been playing the English one and got to owl. So I just tried the Japanese one and got to Kanga and Roo without losing yet.

Tigger is a nigger of niggers THE FOULS [highlight](User was banned for this post ("Racism" - Craptasket))[/highlight]

This god damn Baseball field has to be an incarnation of hell. That right field river curves inward and forces balls foul, even though the exact same angle replicated on the left field would make it. I havent gotten to He-that-shalt-be-named after oh 4 hours. What kind of sick animal makes this for kids

[QUOTE=Jacob_sword;39111439]I've been playing the English one and got to owl. So I just tried the Japanese one and got to Kanga and Roo without losing yet.[/QUOTE] The first five are easy, Owl and onwards are hell.

[QUOTE=elowin;39111562]The first five are easy, Owl and onwards are hell.[/QUOTE] I found Owl to be easier than Rabbit. Stand as far back as you can and the ball will always reach you at the middle of the sine wave.

[QUOTE=TextQUAKE;39111594]I found Owl to be easier than Rabbit. Stand as far back as you can and the ball will always reach you at the middle of the sine wave.[/QUOTE] I got Rabbit first time but I was like 5 behind first time on Owl. I'm going back in.

11-12 1 pitch left on Roo. -smug as fuck, just hit 8 in a row on this fucker- Hit it square in green hitbox. Ball goes flying. Takes a 90 degree turn into the water. :L

[url]http://www.gamegape.com/en-1979-pooh-plays-baseball.html[/url] I'm fairly certain this version is just a direct translation from the Japanese version

i got to Christopher Robin and quit immediately. I just wanted to see what his thing was and quit after the second pitch going from tigers invis ball to a owl ball. I had a chance with tiger and the others, but not here, not in this no mans land.

Woo. Beat Piglet. I',m not very good at this.

In what way is the English version easier?

I thought I was doing great, I got to stage 6 without losing a round. Then that owl, that fucking owl, man. :suicide: Edit: And NOW I realise there's a shop? What the hell.

The sun was shining that afternoon, on the makeshift baseball field just outside the Hundred Acre Wood. From the nearby trees, birds of all shapes and colors tweeted and chirped to themselves, occasionally fluttering between branches for reasons only they could fathom. The river was bubbling, water meandering it's way downstream, and to the astute observer various fish could be seen solemnly tending to their fishy business. Still, the large, open area, fenced in on one side and blocked by modestly high bushes on the other, was almost silent and unbroken, save for the two figures standing motionless within. Pooh shifted his weight slightly, murmuring to himself as his paws run along the length of the baseball bat. It had been Christopher Robin who taught him, and his friends, about the strange sport, and they had all taken a keen interest in it. Although they never quite understood the intricate rules and regulations, simply challenging one another to a friendly competition of pitch-hitting was enough for the close-knit group of animals, and many sunny days would find at least two people in the field, squaring off in a battle of balls and bats. Today was no different, and as the silly old bear finally found himself with a comfortable grip on his tool of choice, he gazed down the field at Owl, who perched on the pitcher's mound with an absent-minded expression and a small pile of balls. On some level, he was aware of Gopher popping up behind him from underground, always eager to participate in their games even if his diminutive stature only permitted him to be the umpire, but Pooh's fluff-filled mind automatically tuned out the way his grey-furred friend rattled about formal rules and guidelines. He and Owl had already decided on the amount of pitches to be thrown that day, and as forgetful as he was, Pooh still remembered his goal: nineteen balls, past the fence or bush. With a curt nod to the feathered pitcher, he readied himself and focused intently on the way Owl's "hands" wrapped around the first ball to throw it. The ball wiggled. He wasn't quite sure what had happened; one moment the ball was coming towards him in a relatively simple, rather baseball-like trajectory, and the next it had veered sharply to the right, seemingly going around his bat. Behind him, Gopher was stunned momentarily, before collecting himself, declaring a strike, and burrowing away to retrieve the ball. Owl seemed smug about it all, his beak turned up slightly, and although there was no true malice behind the gesture, Pooh couldn't help but narrow his eyes at the wiser one. Thankfully, the second and third balls seemed more physics-compliant, and Pooh sent them both sailing over the outskirts of the field with ease, eliciting a polite clapping from Owl and an enthusiastic cheering from Gopher. When he was readying himself for the fourth, though, he noticed a peculiar glint in Owl's eye. There was something...strange, about it, and before he could react Pooh had already missed the swing, the tiny umpire oohing at an event he hadn't quite caught. Were he not made of stuff and fluff, Pooh would have felt himself sweating at the barrage of bizarre, gravity-defying pitches he faced. One after the other, Owl seemed to hurl baseballs that made illogical swerves in mid-air, moving left and right at seemingly random intervals, never quite lining up with the way Pooh aimed. On several occasions, the bat connected rather soundly, yet the trajectory of the impact sent the ball flying sideways at an uncontrolled angle, splashing into the river amidst a befuddled Gopher calling foul. No matter how hard he tried, the poor bear simply couldn't trump his friend's seemingly unnatural techniques, and as the pile of balls slowly depleted, he felt a new and alien feeling in the depths of his tummy. The sun was already beginning to set as Owl picked up the final baseball, sky streaked magnificent goldens and oranges. The warmth of the last rays of sunlight on his back seemed to illuminate the unusually quiet Pooh, as he gazed at the ground and rested his bat against the crude home plate. He almost seemed sorrowful, a fact that both Gopher and Owl picked up on, yet neither seemed interested in pressing the matter. Coughing to himself, Owl nodded at Pooh, lifting one wing and waiting for the bat to rise; after several long, delibating seconds, it came up, and the yellow animal's eyes locked onto Owl's. Gopher would never truly know what had happened, that fateful afternoon. All he saw was the white sphere streaking towards Pooh, who remained motionless, until, just as Gopher was about to declare the final pitch a strike, the wooden bat flung forward with startling speed. There was a loud, thunderous crack as it collided with the ball, and for one brief, fleeting moment, Gopher was about to jump for joy at his friend's success. What he didn't except was a second, more muffled impact, and it took several moments before his mind registered the spray of crimson erupting from Owl's brown and white plumage as the ball rather forcefully returned to him, sending the shocked bird tumbling backwards with a pained cry, as Pooh dashed forward, bat in hand and beady eyes locked onto the pitcher's stunned form. With a primal roar of righteous fury, he brought the bat down onto Owl's head, the crack of bone and cartilage ringing cleanly in the empty field, and the grass at his feet was abruptly doused in dark red. Without breaking stride, it was raised again, both hands stretching over the bear's head, before coming down once again, this time smashing into Owl's chest and causing a spray of blood to squirt from his beak, the scream of pain gurgling and bubbling from the fluids rushing into his suddenly-opened lungs. Again, Pooh struck, and had the feathery victim's face not already been severely damaged, the sickening crunch of wood on bone heralded an end to his friend's visage, most of his upper beak careening sideways in an arc. Gopher could only watch, bile churning in his gut and eyes unwavering, as Pooh continued his onslaught, smashing Owl's limp body again and again. Before long his chest had been completely caved in, reddish-purple innards oozing from between the broken ribs, and small bits of his wisdom-filled brain coated both what was left of his skull and Pooh himself. Eventually, the crazed bear seemed to finally slow down, giving the mangled bird one last whack that snapped his caved-in head sideways and sent an oversized ruptured eyeball splattering onto the turf, and then it was over. Time seemed to stand still for both of the animals left standing, Pooh's chest heaving slowly as he gasped for breath and Gopher left shell-shocked at the brutal outburst, until a slow, rhythmic sound startled both from their trances. Slowly tearing his eyes from the wreck of his friend's corpse, Gopher turned, wincing in the sun's light as a figure approached from behind. There was no doubt in his mind who it was, and yet he couldn't help but stare as they slowly approached, tossing and catching a single baseball in one hand, the constant thump the only sound Gopher could hear besides the blood pumping in his ears. Pooh had turned as well, blank eyes watching and bat dragging on the ground behind him. His entire front was coated in what had moments earlier been Owl, feathers sticking to drying blood and tiny giblets, red shirt matching the red of his bloody fur, and he slowly, almost robotically, raised the bat to rest on one shoulder. There was something in his eyes, some sort of primal rage, that would haunt Gopher for the rest of his life, and as much as he wanted to flee he was rooted in place. The shadowed figure finally stopped, standing between Gopher and Pooh, and although the former couldn't see it, a smile crept across his face at the gory spectacle before him. With a short, childish laugh, Christopher Robin raised the baseball, and Pooh Bear raised his bat to meet it's flight.

[img]http://puu.sh/1K9tS[/img] yesssss

Owl is a motherfucker Only needed 1 more run Had 5 balls Got four fouls in a row, then missed the fifth because I was frothing in rage

15/19 again damn it.

let me sum this up in three words: fuck this shit gave up after 5 minutes i aint got time for this crap

Okay i think this might be the hardest game i ever played in my life

I tried again today. Managed to soundly kick Rabbit's ass in my second try. And then... Then I faced Owl. This is such bullshit. I consistently get 18/19 due to his complete disregard for the laws of physics. SO MUCH FURY. [editline]6th January 2013[/editline] I think the happy music playing constantly might be the worst part.

[QUOTE=Wolfos;39113600]I tried again today. Managed to soundly kick Rabbit's ass in my second try. And then... Then I faced Owl. This is such bullshit. I consistently get 18/19 due to his complete disregard for the laws of physics. SO MUCH FURY. [editline]6th January 2013[/editline] I think the happy music playing constantly might be the worst part.[/QUOTE] I turned on my metal playlist and did much better against him I think the rage focus is great

[QUOTE=Highmist;39111511]This god damn Baseball field has to be an incarnation of hell. That right field river curves inward and forces balls foul, even though the exact same angle replicated on the left field would make it. I havent gotten to He-that-shalt-be-named after oh 4 hours. What kind of sick animal makes this for kids[/QUOTE] If you're hitting right, you swing to late. I hit left, because I swing too early.

I think Tigger is the only one that I fail progressively more at each time.

[QUOTE=Sewer guy;39113878]I think Tigger is the only one that I fail progressively more at each time.[/QUOTE] The trick to Tigger is line up the green part of the bat with where he is throwing it at, and then just work on the timing of the invisible ball.

I had that part down the first time, I was short three home runs. Then it went downhill from there...

OWL GO FUCK YOURSELF [IMG]http://i.imgur.com/BSP5A.png[/IMG] [editline]6th January 2013[/editline] Finally. On to tigger... [IMG]http://i.imgur.com/JTOQn.png[/IMG]

To sum up my feelings right now, I made this: [IMG]http://i.imgur.com/8tp9z.jpg[/IMG]

I gave up on Christopher Robin, that demon is not worth my time.

Sweet horse dicks, I've made it to Cristoff Robinovski. Wish me luck, lads, for today, I descend to Hell. [IMG]http://i.imgur.com/MAKWH.jpg[/IMG]

THIS GAME MAKES ME WANT TO KILL MYSELF