Maniac Mansion box art comes a lot closer than much of the Atari box/cartridge art did.

There's probably a "Miracle Mile Shopping Center" out in Berwyn, Westchester, or Elgin.

Me, climbing inside the barrel of a gun that is as big as a movie screen, running my hand along the rifling, whistling in admiration.

A robot so disposable that you can use them like Mr. Meeseeks.

Is there something to cast that "devolves" the victim, like in the TNG episode "Genesis"?

Meanwhile, Primer.

As long as you don't touch yourself, then you become an orange blob and dissolve away, like in Time Cop.

"Our hands are tied, we can't write, make, and release ANOTHER sequel" is quite a claim considering there is no end to sequels for any other property, even ones that aren't really franchises.

Now imagine him saying something like this being bookended by Dr Drew talking about the risks of unprotected sex.

We really need more songs about maritime disasters.

They used to offer something to fill the emptiness of your soul.

Can't even do that anymore. Now it's just attempts to distract you from the hole where your soul would be.