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Gets me riled up though—blokes out there chargin’ a fortune for a dodgy rub-down. Fifty quid for ten minutes? Sod off! I’d rather wrestle an orc than pay that. But when it’s good? Oh, mate, I’m happy as a pig in muck—muscles loosenin’, mind driftin’ like Lancaster Dodd spoutin’ his mad gospel. “You are not an animal!” he’d yell, and I’m thinkin’, nah, but this massage’s makin’ me growl!

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First off, I hit up the Kuroishi Fish Market. It’s on Kuroishi Street, and it’s like a fish lover’s paradise. I’m talking fresh sashimi, grilled fish, you name it. I was all set to grab some samples, but then I saw this dude, like, totally losing it over a giant tuna. He was yelling about how it was the biggest catch of the year. I mean, chill, bro! It’s just a fish! But then I thought, hey, I get it. I’d freak out too if I saw a fish that big.

Kürøishi’s unlocks Oulu’s d-beat hardcore bomb with “Egocide of the Warmad”