The Golden Axe Resource, Death Adder's Castle

Ask the Death Adder


(Death Adder's note: Due to the strong language of this letter and reply, all adult vulgarities have been replaced with similar words as expressed by my three-year-old nephew.  Changes are marked in italic.)

Dear Death Adder,

Many years ago I had a long term relationship with a girl named Stephanie who basically treated me like doo-doo and dumped me when I was in a bad accident.  Her excuse was that I didn't come see her that entire month I was in and out of the hospital (I had some rough surgery).  Personally, I was glad she was gone.  Now I am with a girl I may marry soon, but the miserable naughty-lady Stephanie still calls wanting to go out and date again.  As often as I have told her "Don't call me again," she still calls. 

My question is: How do I get this miserable stinky-face off my back? 


Anguished Joe

Dear Anguished Joe,

What a bunch of horse-poopies!  Why don't you be a man for once in your life, you no good monkey-face?  Your problem isn't in how to get the first woman to leave, but figuring out how to get the second woman to accept Stephanie as part of your life.  This Stephanie would make a grand ally, as her force of will seems much stronger than your own.  Whereas you are a big elephant nose with silly teeth and funny elbows, she is one cold-hearted meany.

By the way, Joe, I don't mind telling you that you are a turd-smelling boobie with ishies for brains.  Now get off my back you goofy-looking, dirty underwear wearing, garbage-mouthed, greasy-haired, coo-coo head.


The Death Adder


My fellow colleague and general Overlord:

After evaluating your very helpful and highly entertaining "Ask The Death Adder" section at for some time, I thought it would be nice to get in touch with you again.  I have to confess, however, that this mail isn't purely intended to be "catching up on good times."  You see my old friend, I have a request and a question for you.  First of all, will you please clear up to everyone that you are NOT ME in disguise in Golden Axe II?  It's hard enough to become as well-known as you as it is.  And having to live in your shadow isn't all hunky-dory. (I kid you not !!)

Secondly, where the hell where you last month?  Remember that you, me, and some of the other guys (Sephiroth, Lord Kain, Kazuya Mishima, etc.) got free entry-passes to these ridiculously high-priced WWE wrestling show.  We stood outside the arena for hours waiting for you to show up.  Is it really that hard for you to quit playing with that Golden Axe for one measly night ?

It's too bad that I have to put an end to this mail, seeing as Mrs. Guld is whining about me forgetting to mow the lawn, etc.  So I say goodbye for now, and we'll talk later.


Dark Guld

Dear Dark Guld,

Believe me when I tell you that I would love for people to quit accusing me of playing you in disguise in Golden Axe II.  I wish they would have never even made that steaming pile of turd, let alone make people think I would associate my good name with it.  The only worse sequel than Golden Axe II was Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo

About the wrestling thing, sorry I couldn't make it.  I was out on a triple-date with Hamburgler and Mayor McCheese.  They met up with the Barbie triplets and asked me to come along.  Long story short, we all woke up the next morning in a bathtub filled with Shamrock shakes and chicken McNuggets.   And at some point during the night, we surgically removed Hamburglers head and replaced it in a cryogenic freezer.  When he thaws out, he's going to be mad!


The Death Adder


Dear Death=Adder,

Please proofread your replies. Your grammar is abominable! Also, when you talk, please annunciate!

You have plundered many towns; don't tell me that you cannot afford a dictionary!

And sit up straight!



Dear Death=Grammar,

You may not know it, but you have tapped a into deep, deep wound that I have kept hidden away for many years.  You see, as a boy, I was diagnosed with a rare brain disease that can cause excessive drooling, body sweats, loss of hair, an enlarged prostate, hypothermia, scurvy, nosebleeds, and, oddly enough, grammatical errors.  But because of your letter, I will now face my past and embrace myself for who I truly am.  No more hiding.  No more running from my problems.  I will stand up and be a man, because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and, gosh-darn it,  people like me.

I will pass your kind words of support onto my new grammar coach, George Bush.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

Will you marry me?


Lady Anonymous

Dear Lady Anonymous,

However much I would like to marry you, I must refuse.  My heart has been just recently pledged to another.  She sent me an email the other day.  Apparently she's an attractive Russian woman who is just dying to meet a rich western man who knows how to treat a lady.  I don't know why she needed me to send her my credit card numbers and expiration dates, but I'm sure there was a good reason.

I'll keep you posted in case this marriage doesn't work out.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

Since you are a connoisseur of evil artifacts, why have you never gone after the One Ring? It's powerful, it corrupts and it allows you to watch women while they shower and perform various household chores in the nude. The last owner was quite the wimp. He was defeated when just a few of his fingers were cut off, and the fact that he used a wimpy mace.


Precious, son of Luscious, son of Loquacious, son of Frank

Dear Precious,

For a short time, I did own the One Ring.  Unfortunately, with its great power also came a great price, which went by the name of the One Wife.  Everywhere I went with the ring, One Wife came as well.  And sure, watching a woman sweep up dust bunnies wearing only a frilly white apron is good, but having One Wife there, saying "That's disgusting!  How can you enjoy watching this?" in my ear the whole time was somewhat unnerving.  Eventually I had enough and traded the One Ring to some guy named Smeagol in exchange for George Foreman's Lean Mean Grillin' Machine.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

Doesn't it annoy you that your sworn enemies constantly knock your troops off of their steeds and then use them against your own troops? What would you do to fix this lack of proper training?

For a small fee (paid in advance, of course), I can give you the home addresses of a number of expert animal trainers. Your shadow forces can then kidnap them in the dead of night and whisk them away to spend long years teaching your mounts to berserkly attack anyone that fights competently. Then you can kill them off and have your animals hate the heroes as much as your troops do.

For another small fee, I can also give you the locations of technicians that'll rig your Mini-Catapults to self-destruct once the bearer is killed. Also, if you find these ideas useful, I would appreciate a small token of thanks. Perhaps a "Minion of the Month" plaque that I can stash and later sell for food in the post- apocalyptic tyranny that will follow in your conquests.



Dear Mike,

You have a good strong mind, my boy.  For years the "knock-them-off-and-use-their-own-weapons-against-them" strategy has plagued my forces.  A few months back we thought about tying the men to the beasts, but evil knot-tiers are hard to come by.  Duct tape caused similar problems in that it kept sticking to my men's arm hair, and pulling that off really hurts.  And don't even get me started about those catapults.  They might as well hurl feather pillows for all the harm they cause my enemies.

As a reward, I grant you the following treasures:

  • Season 1 of Family Ties on VHS

  • A scarf I knitted from dryer lint and human tongues

  • A signed photo of Tony Danza

  • A half-eaten Salted Nut Roll

  • A limited edition of "Swords I Have Loved" by Ax-Battler



The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

My birthday's in 11 days!  (When is yours?)  I didn't know what to ask for! What one thing should this soon-to-be-13-year-old ask for this year?  I would like a new (OK, maybe not new) Golden Axe game, but which one?  There are so many games (probably more than you and I together know!) and it's impossible for me to choose just one.  Please help, for I only get one birthday this year (last year I got 42) and I don't want to ruin it. 

Yours Truly,

Birthday Girl

Dear Birthday Girl,

My favorite Golden Axe game, other than my own creation Death Adder's Slot Machine, is a hard-to-find game called Grand Theft Axes 3.  You wander around a place called Liberty City stealing cars, working for the mob, and chopping heads left and right with the legendary Golden Axe.  At 13, you're too young to buy it, and your parents probably won't give it to you, so your best bet is just to steal it.  Just keep your hands off my copy, you little brat!


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

I am currently the owner of a talking horse named Jangles.  He tells jokes, sings ballads, and performs a mildly entertaining Elvis impersonation.  On weekends he calls his girlfriend (who lives in Toledo, a long distance call) and they chat for hours and hours.  At night when I'm in bed, he often comes into my room and asks if I'm asleep, when he knows darn well I am.  Jangles also enjoys Yahtzee! and Chutes and Ladders, though the small playing pieces and dice are hard for him to handle with his enormous hooves.

Here's my problem, Death Adder: I suspect Jangles is sleeping with my girlfriend.  My evidence includes finding her number on his speed dial, her bedroom smelling like manure, and a video tape in his room titled "Sleeping With My Owner's Girlfriend, by Jangles."  How do I approach him about this?


Sorrowful in Seattle

Dear Sorrowful in Seattle,

Jangles is a clever adversary, my friend.  Not only is he luring your girlfriend into cheating on you, but my sources say she is about to give birth to his half-horse/half-man baby.  If I were you, I'd cut my losses.  Break up with your girlfriend, send in a video of Jangles singing to American's Funniest Animals and hope to win $10,000.00, then melt Jangles down into glue.  Or, if you are the more vengeful type, find a horsewoman of your own and make her your bride.  Then melt her down into glue just out of spite.  Either way and there will be plenty of high quality glue for everyone.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

So, you claim to be the only person to use an equal sign in your name, do you?  I, Life=Trout, use an equal sign in *my* name!

I hate you Death=Adder. I hate you for your lies and for gaining the success and respect that should have been mine. I'm tired of living in your shadow - it's just not fair!

Sure, my axe is made of bronze, and I don't look as good as you in a pointy helmet and matching cod-piece, but don't I deserve a chance in life?

I'm lonely.  Not even Barbarians will visit my castle. They just make up excuses like:  "I'd love to storm your castle, Life=Trout, but I've, err, left the gas on at home. Got to run!" or "Sorry for not burning your castle to the ground and kicking your arse, Life=Trout.  I intended to, but I overslept.  My alarm clock was broken.. The dog ate your invitation."

I'd try and slaughter some villagers to improve my reputation and attract people to my castle, but, unfortunately, I'm allergic to eagles and giant turtles so I'm pretty much stuck at home.

I don't really hate you Death=Adder.  I hate myself.  Please help me...



Dear Life=Trout,

You have ample reasons to hate yourself.  Most of the people I talk to can't even stand the sound of your name.  Sometimes, at the parties you're not invited to, we pull out the "Why We Hate Life=Trout" list and laugh and laugh at your expense.  When we're feeling particularly naughty, we light a bag of poop on fire and leave it on your doorstep.  We have quite the chuckle as you stomp it out with your bare feet.  Even your own mother once drained the brake fluid from your car and then sent you on an errand at the bottom of a really big hill.  I can't think of one reason why you should continue in the slow, sad ruin you call a life except for the fact it makes the rest of us feel better about ourselves. 

So let that be your beacon of hope, Life=Trout: Though you think your life is miserable (and it is), think of all the pleasure you give the rest of us as we mercilessly drive you deeper and deeper into a lonely, haggard, depressing, and revolting existence.  I'd say I envy all the good you do for the world, but I would be lying.  You really are worthless.

With much love and respect,

The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

Hi, Death Adder.  My name is Chris Deweese and I was wondering if I can join your radical army?

I would also like to talk to Sabrina for a certain reason.  Also I would like to have Sabrina's phone number, e-mail address, and screenshots.  I would enjoy hearing from you.


Chris Deweese

Dear Chris,

All applicants are welcome to join my army.  Just send your resume, along with your current credit card numbers, blood type, available organs for donation, and a money order for $750.00 to:

Death Adder's Vacation Fund

101 Castle Road

Death Adder's Castle, Yuria 66066

As far as Sabrina goes, I'm sure you are referring to Sabrina the Teenage Witch.  For legal reasons, I am no longer allowed to give out her personal information (or come within 50 feet of her).

I look forward to receiving your money.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

I decided to start body building when I first played Golden Axe as Axe Battler.  I was just seven years old then and it took me quite some time for me to understand why Battler had ALL that problems defeating you?  Then I realized, it was because you where twice as tall and three times bigger?  YES!  So to become a better barbarian, I trained a lot to become BIGGER than you.  I am eighteen years old now and 1 meter and 95 cm tall and weigh 90 kg. (I know I am still a bit skinny, but I am working on it!!)

Anyway here's my question to the great Death Adder:

Can you please tell me what type of training you use?  Were you a follower of the BII (brief, intense, infrequent) or of the BIO?   What is your favorite exercise?  Squats are cool, but is lifting tons on the lat. machine better?



Dear Muscles,

When I was younger I followed the Hulk Hogan plan:  Train, Say Your Prayers, and Eat Your Vitamins.  Then I realized it shouldn't be me saying my prayers, by my enemies.

So I moved on to Tai-Bo, watching "Rocky" videos, and practicing the Macarena.  In the end, though, what holds true is something we've known for ages: Practice makes perfect.  Find yourself a small village and terrorize it.  As you do, focus on each major muscle group in your body.  For instance, as you choke the life from your enemy, focus on your forearms and finger dexterity.  Stomping on puppies, kittens, and old women does wonders for your quads and calves.  Brandishing a whip and striking out at all who surround you will quickly increase the definition in your upper arms and shoulders.

Make sure to start with small, insignificant villages so you don't stress yourself out too early in your training.  I suggest looking in Spain.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

I am the recently created Death=Multiplier, the hybrid clone of you and Arnold Schwarzenegger.  While your kill rate is a pathetic Y=X graph, mine is an amazing Y=X^2!   Everything you do, I can do better.  Soon, I shall replace you as the most powerful evil being in the universe.  First I must find my pants, or at least a pair of tight-fitting underwear that we giant people tend walk around in.

My question to you is, where are my pants?



Dear Death=Multiplier,

I have long known of your existence, Death=Multiplier, and have prepared accordingly.  While you were using the left over bits and pieces of Arnold's genetic makeup, I was infusing the power of the greatest military leaders of our time into my blood stream.  My body now contains the essence of Napoleon, Genghis Kahn, the Hamburgler, Teddy Ruxpin, Peppermint Patty, Cobra Commander, and McGruff the Crime Dog.

My NEW kill rate is Y=X^2 + infinity.  So take that, you pantless goof!


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

My name is Kyoko Minazuki, a school nurse at Justice High School.  You are the sorriest excuse of a villain I've ever seen.  You're pathetic, stupid, barbaric, and lame.  You've gotten your butt kicked so many times it's not funny.

Why don't you give up?!!  Even Mario's Koopa is better that you!!  You are not even the most evil person I've ever seen.  That title goes to Dracula.  He's MUCH sexier, he dresses a lot better than you (he has more clothing that you, all you have is that stupid helmet, cape and codpiece.  WEAR A FREAKIN' SHIRT!!  YOU'RE SCARING THE WORLD WITH YOUR UGLY, DIRTY, FILTHY GARBAGE YOU CALL A BODY!!! I bet you're ugly!!)  He can seduce and get women.  You?!!  You have the sex appeal of the ugliest man on Earth!  You're so ugly, you could be a modern art master piece!  One more thing before I end this lovely letter......I THINK YOU'RE ALSO GAY!!  No wonder you hang out with mostly guys!!  HA HA HA!!  

I'm too sexy for a woman of your taste!  You can't get me to go out with you, you filthy, nasty hentai (it means 'pervert' if you're too stupid to know Japanese)!   


Kyoko Minazuki (Head Nurse for Justice High School)

Dear Kyoko,

You raise many interesting points that a thoughtful man should consider.  While it is true I've lost a few battles, am not the prettiest man in the world, and once lost in a dancing competition to John Travolta, I am a good guy once you get to know me.  Just the other day a man on the street asked if he could borrow a quarter.  Not only did I give him the quarter, but I also bought him a cup of coffee, donut, and a cool looking beret.  Then, afterwards, I ate his children.  I did this because I like helping my fellow man.

So I'm sorry if we disagree on some issues.  Might I suggest we get together sometime to talk them over?  Perhaps you can bring your children.  And please wear your nurse's outfit.  Hubba-hubba!


The Death Adder


Lord Death Adder,

I'm Asteroth, one of Lady Death's many enemies. Since Chaos went out of business and there's no more work for me in the comics realm, I was wondering if perhaps you might want another loyal subject for your army. I'm a muscular centaur with great supernatural ability. Plus, I'm excellent at close range combat. I could be a valuable ally to you. What do you say? I'm in serious need of a leader. I'm going through property destruction withdrawal. I need to strike fear into the hearts of mortals once again! 



Dear Asteroth,

Your proposition interests me.  While my army is always in need of good, strong evil-doers, what I'm currently in short supply of is someone who can make a really good cheese omelet.  If one of your supernatural abilities is to separate egg yolks from egg whites, I've got a great job that you're sure to enjoy.

Please send me your current stats: height, weight, age, and a photo wearing a "Kiss the Chef" apron and I'll see what I can do.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

My name is Rena Lanford of Arlia Village.   I was online one day and I found your site.  I heard that you are very smart and you give good advice so I hope that you can help me on some problems that I've been having...

Question 1:  There's is this boy named Claude that I seem to like. He is very cute but he is a jerk.  Should I continue to love him? A childhood friend of mine, Dias, told me he's gay.  Is that true?

Question 2:  I heard that you have a military academy for teenagers.  I was wondering how I would enlist?   I am a Nedian (Elf-type races) I can heal wounds from minor to the most fatal.  I heard that you can get promoted to officer rankings in your military and the pay is good.    

Question 3:  I heard that you have a son...How old is he and where is he at and is he a person for a girl to be with?

Well I hope that you can help me out I'd appreciate it!  Take care.

Rena Lanford

Dear Rena,

Three questions.  Three answers.  Here we go:

Answer 1:  Time to face the facts on Claude.  He's a loser.  He can't fight.  He can't dance.  He can't juggle.  And from what I've heard, he can't even bake delicious peach cobbler.  To further compound this, I believe he's from Spain, and I can't stand those guys.  If you're looking for a man, see Answer 3.

Answer 2:  There's always room in my army for industrious youth like yourself.  Your healing ability will be especially useful, as my army always seems to get royally pummeled in every battle.  And while there is no "official" pay, you can plunder any village we attack and after each battle . . . all the delicious peach cobbler you can eat!

Answer 3:  My son, Death Adder Junior, though a daily disappointment to me, might make a fine spouse to any woman.  He does have a few problems, though.  He's not very bright, he has bad posture, and his hands are covered with an odd smelling fungus.  You should also be aware that his left eye often pops out of its socket when he's laughing, and his spine is on the outside of his skin.  He also has a dog name Mr. Yappers who eats babies.

I look forward to seeing your application.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

The other day on the bus to our school, my sister asked me a question.  The question was:

Which do you like best?  Daddy or chips?

After struggling all day to come up with an answer to her, I returned home, where my daddy stole one of my chips Mummy had made for me.  So I told my sister that I liked chips best.

Suddenly she jumped up and shot magic eye beams at Daddy that made him disappear, and she told me that she hoped I was happy with my choice.

For a few minutes I was, but once I finished my chips, I started to feel a bit sad, as Daddy wasn't there to read me stories or play with me.

I regret choosing chips and not daddy.  Is there anyway you can bring him back to me?  He looks a bit like one of the Bad Brothers.  If I can't have Daddy, can I have one of them instead?


Sophie, aged 7, from a valley someplace in Wales

Dear Sophie,

I sympathize with your plight, I really do.  When I was your age, I traded my daddy in for a sack of marbles, a tube of airplane glue, and a half-eaten turnip.  The reason  you're sad is because you could have gotten so much more for him.  I alone would have given you some fish and chips for your father.  Rather than regretting the loss of your father, you should talk to your sister about harnessing that awesome power of hers.  Perhaps you could open a Kill-Your-Enemies/All-You-Can-Eat-Chips store.  There's plenty of people I would like to eat.  Well, I should say there are plenty more people I would like to eat.

As for the Bad Brothers, they have enough orphaned children to worry about as it is.  They don't need your salty-fingered hands pulling on their pant legs.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

I am a mad scientist.  I experiment with things every Sunday. (WA-CHOO!)  I (WA-CHOO!) got sick from my most  recent experiment. Every time I perform one, something bad happens. (WA-CHOO!)  Like this morning, this dude told me (WA-CHOO!) that toilets flush counterclockwise (WA-CHOO!) in the Northern Hemisphere, and clockwise in the (WA-CHOO!) Southern Hemisphere. So I flushed one exactly on the Equator... It (WA-CHOO!) erupted in my face. I (WA-CHOO!) now have no face, and my brain was washed out of my skull (actually half of it).  The missing half was replaced by a hunk of turd! (WA-CHOO!)  And last week, I tried to punch a brick wall with my left arm, since it has never punched one before. That pathetic arm broke off! (WA-CHOO!) What do I do?!?       

Yours Truly,

Really, REALLY (WA-CHOO!) Mad Scientist

Dear Really, REALLY Mad Scientist,

What can I say?  You've got some serious issues to resolve.  My first piece of advice would be to stop flushing toilets, as you seem to have some aversion to the activity.  This includes at home, at restaurants, or even if you are at a friend's house after a very big chili dinner.

The other thing I would suggest is a change of careers.  The whole mad scientist thing doesn't seem to be working out.  Seeing as you are a one-armed, half-a-brain, you might want to think about a career in politics.  Or perhaps lend yourself to medical experiments.  That's how I got on track to make my first million dollars.

Good luck,

The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

I have been your fan since I first beat you at the Arcades, and I even bought the Genesis version of your game. But one fact has troubled me.  How much the Amazons weigh and what there age is.... I bet you know the answer to that.

Also, what was the deal with that extra level after beating you?

Best regards to the Chicken Leg,

Yosele "El Indio" Tapia

Dear Yosele,

Let me answer your second question first.  You can never really defeat me.  Like a well-tossed boomerang, I always come back.  I'm also like a boomerang in that I often hit Australians.

To answer your first question about the weight and age of the Amazons, I went and asked them personally, and here is their reply:

"You want to know our weight, do you?  How 'bout I come and stand on your chest for a while, you puny punk.  How would that be?"

Hopefully that answers your questions.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

I am writing to you in wicked desperation.  To be brief, I am the Doughboy...yes THE Doughboy, formerly known as Pillsbury Doughboy and I have escaped the clutches of imprisonment once again from an evil (but amateur) tyrant named Storm.

For almost a week now he has been keeping me imprisoned in his freezer and poking me with a sharp utensil for his own sadistic enjoyment. What's more is that while I was imprisoned in this freon facilitating and frosty chamber of death, I was not allowed to run my usual muck of pestilence to rot and poison the food of mortal man. And even more so, I was not allowed to spread my usual high dosage of monosodium glutamate in the factory's cookie dough this past week.

I was lucky enough that one of the tyrants' cohorts thought it malicious enough to steal his desert and once they took me out of that infernal frost machine.......I poked 'em to death with a butter knife!!!!!! Muhuahahaha. This reminds me of the last foolish tyrant who tried to imprison me in that factory long ago. An evil man by the name of Pillsbury. Oh, I got my vengeance on him.  When I bit his ankle and he fell into a big batch of Grands cinnamon roll dough. He-he!  They never found him either.  That'll teach that bastard to poke me. 

Well, since then I've been in total control of the company, forging his signatures when asked to bring out a new line of cookies.  And every week I would spread my pestilence in those stale batches of cookie dough until now. I can't bear to think that the sheer staleness of those cookies and cinnamon rolls alone is enough to spread true pestilence upon mankind.  What should I do?  I was thinking, perhaps I should turn up the volume a bit to make up for lost time.  I was thinking more along the lines of Anthrax cookies.  What do you think?


The Doughboy (formerly Pillsbury Doughboy)

Dear Doughboy,

What can I say?  You've lived a hard and troublesome life.  Your plight nearly brings a tear to this cruel man's heart.  But you mustn't wallow in your own pity, my sweet, doughy friend, but reach out and conquer the world in your own way.  I would avoid the Anthrax cookies, as there's not much money in that.  Instead, why not create a new, impossible-to-resist morsel of goodness.  That way, you can not only addict the masses, but make a hefty profit.

Might I suggest a deep fat fried chocolate marshmallow dipped in fudge, surrounded by brown sugar, honey, roasted almonds, rainbow sprinkles, and crack cocaine?

Good luck,

The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

I want to say hello.  And I want to say, "What's your name? What's your name?"  Are you a bad, bad, bad, bad guy?  Are my dreams scary because you're in them?

Stop scaring me, please.



Dear Julien,

I'm sorry I've been scaring you.  I often appear in people's dreams, but usually those of women, and most of them don't complain.

To help your problem, I have lowered the setting on my Dream Impeder 2000 machine.  If I continue to haunt your slumber, there is a sure-fire way to solve the problem.  Instead of sleeping in your regular bed, try sleeping in the car.  If you keep the car in the garage, make sure to keep it running, as you don't want to get cold at night.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder

I've noticed an eerie resemblance between the "Bad Brothers" and Uncle Phil from the "Fresh Prince of Bel-Air."  There is further evidence in the fact that Uncle Phil seems to posses the ability to pick and throw people smaller than he is (such as the DJ Jazzy Jeff), a skill one would acquire as a Henchman for Death Adder.

I decided ask the supreme authority on matters like this (yourself) for an explanation.  Did one of the Bad Brothers (or perhaps more) go on to an acting career and eventually landed the part of Uncle Phil?  Is Uncle Phil a long lost triplet of one of the bad brothers?  Or is he simply a genetic anomaly?

Thanks for your infinite wisdom,

Yarharhar, The Pirate Captain of Evil.

Bad Brother Bad Uncle

Dear Yarharhar,

Good eye, Captain of Evil.  As you can see, they are clearly one in the same, though you have it backwards.  The Bad Brothers did not become actors, Uncle Phil became one of my henchmen.  I long admired the way he belittled his family and treated their butler, Geoffrey, as a second class citizen.  As a reward for his years of dedication to stamping out freedom and original thought, I allowed him to join my army.  As further reward, I had him cloned (you can't have too much of a good thing).  Though you know of only two bad brothers, they number in the millions.  Soon, my army will move out into the world, conquering all who stand in their way.  My "attack of the clones" will be unlike any the world has ever seen.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

I live underground in a big pit, and I am blind.  I also wear a mask that makes me look like a gimp, and a thong.  Recently I was on a TV show about violent psychopaths but because I am blind, I accidentally walked into the wrong studio, and was accosted by a man with flapping wrists, who told me I had it all wrong, and that thongs and leather masks were out.  His comments saddened me deeply, so I carved him up with the blades I like to wear on my hands.  Even though it left me feeling good, I can't stop thinking about the insults to my dress sense and its been eating me inside.  Even blind gimps have feelings! 

As the best dressed evil thing, can you suggest a new look for me, that says violent and insane, but also looks stylish, builds on my best feature (my ass) and comes with a matching hat?

Many thanks,


Dear Voldo,

First off, let me alleviate any guilt you may have: You were right to kill that man.  Who does he think he is to go around saying what looks good and what doesn't?  That's MY job.

The secret to fashion success, my blind, gimpy friend, is to accessorize.  Don't go with just one main statement, but mix and match.  For instance, a nice combo might be a suit of armor and a ventriloquist dummy.  Or how about a pair of tinfoil pants matched up with shoes made from a lacquered trout?  Though you may want originality, don't neglect the classics, and don't be afraid to revolutionize.  If you want to wear a hockey mask, don't carry a machete for your weapon (been there, done that).  Instead, use a curling iron, or perhaps a shopping cart filled with hair.

Voldo, old friend, if I can offer once piece of advice, it's this: If it feels good, do it.  If it feels bad, kill it.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

I've been having this sleeping problem lately.  For the last several nights, I've been strangely waking up every 2 hours.  I asked my friend about it and she said I was probably having nightmares.  But I wasn't. She said someone else was probably waking me up every 2 hours, just like the situation where another friend of mine had to be woken up every 2 hours because of a broken nose. I said the house was in perfect silence.  She suggested that someone needed me and was trying to contact me.  I believe this is a distinct possibility. But who?  Is it you?  Is it Mach Two?  Is someone even in need of me?!  I tell you, I've never been more confused.

Yours truly,


Dear Junior,

Your "friend" is lying to you.  In fact it is her who has been waking you.  The stranger question is why.  My best guess is that she's laying eggs in your ear, and in a few months, her larvae brood will watch and burrow into your brain -- just like what happened to Chekov in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Kahn.  If I were you I'd sleep with a pillow over each ear, or plug up each one with a Babel Fish.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

I hope not to offend you by asking you of this question:  Is it true when I say that in your world there are a lot of life forms? Because we can see humanoids (the Golden Axe protagonists or your Amazons), titans (you), skeletons, shadow warriors, etc

See you soon,


Dear Guido,

Personally, I like the world being filled with so many life forms.  It reminds me of the circle of life, the fragile ecosystem, and my small place within it.  Each day I sit back and muse at the beauty of a butterfly, the grace of a fish in water, and the sound of a chipmunk drowning in a large pot of boiling acid.

I'll be seeing you sooner,

The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

Are you are that you are the only tyrant in history cool enough to deserve an equal sign in your your name? This is quite clearly seen during the 'attract' mode of the Golden Axe game. I mean, when I first came up to an old cabinet of this game in the arcade, I wasn't very impressed, but seeing Gilius Thunderhead's brother killed by a 'Death=Adder', the only thing that went through my mind was "Holy crap, this guy actually has an *equal sign* in his title."

Most villains have to make do with using spaces between their name, using compound words, and even the rare villain is worthy of a hyphen. True, there have been a few other villains with math symbols in their name (Toguro Ototo 100% and Q*Bert spring to mind), but you, sir, carry the unique honor of an equal sign.  Those pansies Death Bringer and Death Adder Jr. may talk tough, but I think that your credentials are far more impressive than theirs.

Anyway, as for my questions:

1) What is the meaning of the equal sign?

2) Why aren't you pimping that equal sign more often?  It'd strike fear into those bulked-out, Vaseline-covered manboys in pastel bikini briefs that call themselves barbarians.



Dear Golden Silver,

You're right.  On occasion I do break out the equals sign when necessity takes place.  There is something rather ominous about two horizontal lines in my name.  Many times, in the heat of battle, I've seen my enemies (like Gilius' mother) trying to figure out what they were all about, and, while she was distracted, I chopped of her elfish head.

An interesting note is that Joseph Stalin, when he originally ran for the title of Russian Dictator, used the name "Joseph=Stalin".  After being defeated by Mayor McCheese, if memory serves me right, he quickly dropped the equals sign and four years later one his position.

To answer your questions:

1)  The sign means, quite simply, that Death is in fact equal to Adder.  Imagine how silly it would be to have a name like "Death <= Adder" or even stranger, "Death <> Adder".

2)  I no longer use the equals sign as it saves my kingdom over $2.00 a year in typing transactions.




Dear Death Adder,

I recently gave my uncle an Atomic Wedgie. The problem is that I have split him in two--all the way up to his neck.  He's having slight difficulty forgiving me.  Please, King of all Losers, tell me what I can do.



Dear Wedge,

You uncle is quite shortsighted.  Being split nearly in half has many advantages.  For one, he doesn't have to step around fire hydrants or sleeping dogs like the rest of us.  His cleaved body can easily traverse over the top.  And it will be much easier for doctors to check on his colon, pancreas, or thorax (if he has one).  You might want to make mention that there are only a precious few individuals torn in half by their own underwear walking around these days, that might make him feel special.

As to your second claim, that I am the King of all Losers, I've got a little message for you.  If being a loser means that you never win, or even come close to winning, and often run home, tail tucked between your legs, tears streaming down your face, crying out to your mommy, well then, Mr. Tough Guy, I guess I am a loser.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

Are you almost done in there?  I have to use the bathroom real bad.  Come on!  You've been in there for over an hour.  I have to go!  Are you writing in a novel in there or what?  I can't hold it much longer...



Dear Gotstogo,

Such delicate procedures take time, my boy.  Patience will be your best ally.  And remember:  Possession is 9/10 of the law.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

My wife and I are now having our sixth child in as many years.  Because of our extreme baby production, I am rapidly running out of money to support my family.  Our new-found poverty and house-run-amuck with children make my wife severely depressed.  To add to our woes, the only thing that cures her depression is sweet, sweet lovemaking--which in turn produces even MORE babies!

What can I do?


Old Man in a Shoe

Dear Old Man in a Shoe,

Your problem is simple, really.  I brew a special concoction that cures all depression.  Please send your wife to my castle Saturday night around 7:30 pm.  Send her alone as it's a super secret recipe that I can only give to a precious few.  Expect her home sometime Sunday morning, or perhaps Monday if things go well.

Also, please tell her to dress in something alluring.  And have her bring a bottle of tequila.  And it's usually best if she leaves her wedding ring (or any pictures of you) at home.


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

I am YOUR evil clone. Or are you MY evil clone? Anyway, I have a few questions:

1)  Don't hate me for this question, but are you and Death Bringer somehow related?

2)  Is Death Adder Jr. an only child?

3)  Who would win in an all-goes-battle-to-the-death, Death Bringer or Junior?  (My money's on Junior, for he can beat me with one hit, and D. B. NEVER wins.)

4)  I'm 430 years old.  Am I able to join your army?  In that big war, we could both hide in a different area.  I could pop out and attack then I would go back in hiding.  A second later, you could do the same. That would confuse the living daylights out of anyone.


Death Adder, Mach Two

Dear Mach Two,

It has been many years, old friend, since we crossed paths, and you no little more than when we last spoke.

1)  Death Bringer is just a fictitious invention to scare children -- just like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, Michael Jackson, and Spain.

2)  All children are mine in a way, since I know all their mothers personally.

3)  Junior would win the battle nine times out of ten.  He always carries a secret supply of Mentos.

4)  A good plan, but a true Death Adder would never hide.  (Unless Ms. Death Adder finds out he forgot to clean the toilet again.)


The Death Adder


Dear Death Adder,

It has come to the attention of the IRS that you have not paid your taxes in over fifty years. You are asked to please bring all of the money out of your treasure room and leave it on the front porch of the White House labeled "I-O-U".  Cooperation would be greatly appreciated.  If you do not follow our demands, we will evict you from Death Adder's Castle.  Have a nice day!



Dear IRS,

There must be some kind of mistake.  I am a nonprofit entity, neither making or losing money, only living my life for the betterment of mankind.  Sure, I may have a few more piles of gold than the average fools on the street, but that's only because I'm better than them--much, much better.

But, to help do my part, I hereby grant the IRS my complete stock holdings in Enron, WorldCom, and


The Death Adder

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