Friday Drinking Game #50: Superhero Films

It being 2012, and what with you being alive and presumably interested in films, you have probably seen a superhero film. You have probably seen many superhero films. You might have even seem some in 3D. The only remaining thing you can now do with a superhero film, particularly on a Friday afternoon, is get absolutely rat-arsed in one. ENTER BFF. Loki’s ready. Are you?

Take ONE sip: (where the hero has actual super powers, rather than just a top-of-the-line calculator and a matching ego)

Every time the hero says his own name in a reverent sort of way:

I realise it’s a heroic-like quality to be a touch on the self-absorbed side of personality disorders (cf. direct and unedited quote from Brad Pitt’s Achilles in Troy, lovingly arranged in the dactylic hexameter Homer wrote in:

Anyway, far more than is necessary for narrative purposes, these people refer to themselves by their hero name, even if their mothers gave them perfectly serviceable ones to begin with (we’re lookin’ at you, Peter Parker). If, at any point, your chosen hero speaks of him/herself in the third person, you must also do so for the remainder of the game.

Whenever the superpower fails the hero because of a loophole in the contract they forgot about:

“With great power comes great responsibility” always sounds so earnest when it’s coming from Tobey Maguire’s wizened little mug, but these ‘roided-up knobs always forget that this basically means that if you act like a twat, throwing your hammer/suit/lantern/embarrassing tin shield out of the pram as if you’re a superhero or something, you will me made to sit on Marvel’s naughty step until you’ve earned your hammer/suit/lantern/embarrassing tin shield back. SIMPLES. But then, so are these blokes 90% of the time.

Any time anyone falls into an abyss because of a superpower:

This is usually the most decisive way of disposing of a bad guy with maximum pathos and equally ambiguous scope to RETURN (le gasp!) for a sequel if the numbers are good enough at the box office. Worth a sip, despite being quite obviously poached from The Greatest Film of Our Timeā„¢, The Lion King. if they scream on the way down to Marvel Superhero II, you must also scream.


Any instance of being underdressed for the occasion:

This is a constant, which is why it’s only two sips. Have you ever clocked just how often these gents show up to balls and benefits and schools and boardroom meetings and shit covered in blood and dirt from buildings/people they’ve just been blowing up?? IT’S A BUSINESS MEETING, JAMES FRANCO, NOT THE DISNEYLAND PARADE. Particularly bad for this is the Incredible Hulk, who is crash-landing into people’s front rooms – what he’s left of them, anyway – stark naked and totally unrepentant. Dick. Quite literally. You must also remove an item of clothing for every item of clothing they remove themselves. (If you’re using Thor for this, you are quite severely fucked. Our apologies.)

Every drawn out moment of unresolved sexual tension between the hero and his lady love.

Ever since sequels became a thing, production companies quickly realised that, much like the life of your average twentysomething male, the hazy promise of sexytimes is the one of the few guaranteed ways to get people’s bums back in cinema seats for a second round. There’s usually a promise to be back from saving the world later, a few longing gazes and maybe a little fumble in the spaceship/desert/hanging from the rafters. It’s a lot like being in love with your best mate, but considerably more dramatic. AND MORE LIKELY TO WORK OUT. Oh sorry, have we depressed you? That’s alright; take another sip if you have the same coloured hair as either of the lovelorn individuals involved.


Every single time someone utters the word ‘world’ or ‘Earth’. No, seriously.

It’s never just about saving the poor, is it? Or the especially sad, or the children. Believing themselves the Bono of their own respective universes, it’s always a global crisis with these lads, and as such, three sips are required every time they mention the magnitude of sacrifices they make in the name of the WORLD (by “sacrifices” we mean “unspeakably cool perks in exchange for blowing a few choice individuals to smithereens”. Our hearts bleed for them, truly. No really, watch out for the puddle).


Knock a whole one back for every time someone puts on their badass outfit. And drink for every time they change back. Please don’t argue, you got into this knowing we intended you to vomit. Happy Friday! Sorry about your Saturday in advance; follow our rules, and it won’t be pretty.

About The Author