Category Reviews

My Middle Name Is ‘Sucker’.

I will admit it. I bought Leisure Suit Larry: Box Office Bust out of nostalgia for the days when Eric Stacey and I played the original while his parents weren’t home and we had to guess at all of the questions you had to answer to prove you were of age to play. It was a twenty dollar impulse buy. It was a mistake.

I like kitsch. I like bad movies. I occasionally enjoy bad games. I was able to derive genuine enjoyment from Sneak King. I thought, “Why not, Melissa? At the very least, it will be funny.”

No. No, it isn’t. It isn’t funny and it isn’t fun.

The writers clearly felt they were clever dudes, and filled each loading screen with an absolutely HI-larious tip, like “You’ll never be able to convince your girlfriend it’s good for her just because it’s filled with protein” and “Real girls are scary anyway” and “Buy a copy of this game for your grandma on her Birthday[sic]” OH HA HA HA HA HA, gentlemen!

The first time (yes, you read that correctly) I played this game, I put about an hour of time into it trying to even FIND the first mission as the minimap AND the camera both suck, and for my time and efforts, I got stuck in some geometry and had to start over. Instead of ripping the disc out and flinging it across the room, I decided that in order to punish myself for my rash purchase decision, I would play the game through to 100% completion and then destroy the disc.

I spent a not-insignificant number of hours playing this game. Here are my grievances. The game entertains the notion that it’s a sandbox style game; in order to complete missions and collect all of the little fucking golden statuettes scattered across the map, you need to execute parkour-like moves up and across buildings and every surface. Unfortunately, the controls are utter shit–unresponsive and inconsistent, and the geometry is also inconsistently designed. Ledges that you should be able to jump to and things you ought to be able to climb on are blocked off by invisible walls that shimmer when Larry slams into them at full speed at a height that will kill him as you can’t recover from a fall. If Larry runs anywhere near a moving golf cart, he turns into a boneless mass and flops down on to the ground. The AI consistently walks and drives into corners, and gets stuck in geometry until eventually they disappear. Larry looks like a poster child for Axe body spray, meaning I’m fairly sure that any time you’re not watching him onscreen, he’s off raping someone. Everyone else just looks freakish. There are characters roaming all around the world map, but you can only interact with specific people on missions, so the NPCs repeat the same two sentences over and over “Watch the hands, mister” and “Hey! I’m walkin’ here!”. You’d never know they paid well-known actors and actresses as voiceover talent unless they advertised it because the cut scenes are so atrocious that all you can focus on is how terrifying everything looks in-game. The dialogue is terrible. I’ve had funnier looking things come out of my various orifices than anything that happened onscreen.

However, my largest grievance is this: I collected a lot of statuettes in the hours I played. I was working my stats up to several different achievements. I saved my game (and there are not many places you can save your game which is also a hunk of shit) so I could take a dinner break, and when I went back to load my game…something had glitched and all of my progress up to the save was gone. WHAT. THE. FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK!?!

I will NOT redo all of that work. I don’t have the time to play through to 100% completion in one sitting, and frankly, that’s a punishment even I don’t feel I deserve. So, I leave to you, dear friends: What do I do?

*edit* I have called Gamestop and they will give me eight whole dollars for the game if that affects your vote one way or another.

 

Son of a Gun of a Bitch

On Sunday, Tristan sent me a message, inviting me to see Ratatat; he and his roommate were not going out to dinner beforehand, but v1c1ous was going to House of Hong with some friends and I was welcome to join them.

I’m really glad I did; Sean’s friends were delightful dinner company, and together we ordered a family dinner. A family dinner that nearly killed us…with deliciousness. We started off strong, all of us digging in enthusiastically. By the fourth course, we’d all started to slow down. By the 9th, we were all groaning and about ready to die. At one point, we had six different courses on the table, and each one was the most delicious thing in the world. HOW DOES THAT EVEN HAPPEN? Toward the end, we started commenting on lobster battles and making fun of neighboring tables and anything that would delay us from standing up because we lacked the proper bloodflow to handle walking; we also were unable to form coherent sentences. Tristan called at one point to find out where we were, I think, but none of us really knew what he was talking about, or cared, or could comprehend spoken language.

There is a soup on the menu at House of Hong that costs $350 and is intended for 10 people. At some point, a group will have to be gathered for the express purpose of consuming this soup.

We eventually made our way over to the venue, which was packed with squealing pre-teens. Hurrah for the bar area! Before the opening bands started playing, Tristan offered earplugs around. Oh no, we were all much too cool to protect our hearing. After the first band started playing, Tristan pulled out the earplug package and waggled it, and this time, all of us but one grabbed a set. It’s one thing to lose hearing from rock concerts. It’s another to lose hearing to an awful, awful, awful band. No, I don’t know what their name was. Yes, I could look it up. No, I don’t care to do so. It was fronted by a guy who looked exactly like the Chocolate Rain dude, the whole band jerked around onstage like rhythmless chickens, and they were singing songs about: positivity, jesus, and…running away from home at 16 after being punished for kissing a boy. I was not their target audience.

The second act was even worse. It was a whiteboy rapper, of the ‘look how hard I am trying to be thug’ variety. I am tempted to write a letter to Eminem and ask him to apologize for paving the road for this dude. LOOK WHAT YOU HAVE WROUGHT, MARSHALL. Half-finished, unpracticed songs with titles like “The Chicken Featha Licka” and “Son of a Gun of a Bitch”, and this guy is almost ready to roll with Herbert Kornfeld in the Nite Rida. Shit, maybe this guy is Baby Prince H Tha Stone Col’ Dopest Biz-ook-kizeepin’ Muthafukkin’ Badass Supastar Kornfeld Tha Second!

I am curious as to whether Ratatat purposefully picked wretched openers to make them appear even better by comparison, but they really don’t need to resort to such trickeries, as they’re awesome. AWESOME. Not only did I get to hear some killer music, but I got to enjoy another one of my favorite activities: watching people dance like jackasses. Bless you, Ratatat, for making that happen for me. Bless you.

I’m still wicked bad.

So, I finally got around to watching ‘Once Upon a Time in China’–I’ve only had it from Netflix for going on two months now. The movie synopsis on the envelope made me laugh:

“Fists and feet fly like lightning bolts when Wong Fei-hung defends a martial arts school from corrupt government officials, a renegade swordsman and an illegal slave ring. The finale, in an old warehouse, is awesome, with Li using every square inch of the structure in his intricate fight choreography.”

The finale…is awesome. Who wrote this copy? A twelve year old? I look forward to seeing more by this person: “Battlestar Galactica: Season 4.5: Robots and humans blow each other up and it kicks ass.” “Terminator 4: The explosions were like, way cool, and also totally sick, dude.” “Showgirls 2: Wow-de-dow I love boobies.”

Speaking of loving boobies, thank you to the anonymous benefactor who gifted me with three months of suicide girls time. I am now accomplishing nothing in my free time and I probably couldn’t be happier about it.