Editor’s note: This professional video game reviewer works in a cubicle labyrinth at one of the biggest video game magazines in the world. He is forced to review video games nine hours a day, five days a week. This is a look at what goes through a reviewer’s mind when he’s reviewing kids games.
The Cover: Here we have a white dog with a saucy look on his face like he’s about to fuck your shoe. And he has a black bolt on his shoulder. He must be Bolt! He looks like Patton Oswald covered in hair. There’s also a little androgynous sheboy running up behind him with what looks like a rectal thermometer for super dogs. But it’s probably something lame.
Turning to the back cover: Yep, the thermometer is actually a scooter, because the girl is riding it with a saucy look on her face like she’s about to fuck your shoe and then tell people you made her do it. Also, she’s holding Bolt under one arm who has the stupid/happy/surprised look on his face that Patton Oswald gets whenever someone recognizes him. The bold action print at the top says “Live the action star life!”
As I’ve been jotting these notes, the game has been going through its demo display on my TV. It consists of the title screen, some gameplay clips and awful quiz-show music. This must be what it sounds like inside a hyper active child’s mind. Every thirty seconds or so, the game screams: “He’s beyond awesome, he’s be-awesome!” Be-fucking kill me. The gameplay clips have shown bits drawn from Splinter Cell, Metal Gear, and Geometry Wars. If Penny breaks just one neck, this will all have been worth it.
Now we begin.
The menu says my options are:
Play Game
Play Mini Game
Audio Options
Extras
Drink More Vodka
Just kidding, that last one’s not an option. Or is it always an option?! HELP!! Bolt is be-awesome! Oh god.
Soda pop leaking onto a couch in front of a Bolt dvd. Hamster crawls up sips soda, eats popcorn out of his hamster ball. He says some wacky shit, then hits a button on a remote. I think I’m playing what he’s watching.
It’s dark and raining, somewhere off the coast of Italy, and I’m a little girl. I jump on some rocks, then I get prompted to use my enhanced vision to show me where to go next. I must climb along a pipe. I jump up some rocks and break out the scooter/thermometer. I try to sneak by an enemy, but he sees me! He says “Don’t move!”
So I beat him to death with my scooter! That has to be one of the most embarrassing video game deaths ever, right?
Next I used my scooter to break a lock on a gate. Scooters, the next great thing in burglary/homicide!
So I just did a sneak attack where I impaled a bad guy with my scooter, and then licked blood off the wheels. This game is awesome! Just kidding, I kicked him off a cliff. He flailed hilariously, then fell to his death. Then Penny just stood there, looking at the spot of the crime for like two minutes while I was writing this. Fucking psycho.
Karma strikes, Penny just launched herself off the same cliff in a moment of psychotic guilt. Actually, I mistimed a double jump. But I was robbed of the sight of her little body landing on the rocks by a black square commanding me to try again. And she’s back on her feet, a little girl Jason Voorhees.
So turning invisible and throwing gas mines uses energy. Killing people gives energy. Got it.
Just had to do one of those God of War button press sequences. You know, the ones where you like stab a gorgon in the eye, then spit in the hole, then slit its throat? Yeah, well, in this one I jumped on a rock, then I jumped off it. Be-awesome!
I just killed a man and his money swarmed to me like flies.
I think Penny is on some kind of perv revenge trip. This is straight out of I Piss On Your Grave. I’m pretty sure she’s been crying this whole time…and laughing. Hard to tell though because she’s wearing a mask. Oh, I just fell through a skylight and got captured. Oh, Bolt is here, she says “Sic em!”
OH MY GOD, he fights just like the EVIL WHITE RABBIT from MONTEY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL! WHY AM I YELLING?!
Read more: bolt, review, video game, Hank Pazzo, Entertainment, Video Games
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18 Comments
Add your own1. Nestor | December 4th, 2008 at 2:13 pm
You could be digging ditches at 5 AM!
2. Seryoga | December 4th, 2008 at 2:20 pm
Yeah, you pussy, stop complaining.
3. Baked Dr. Luny | December 4th, 2008 at 3:51 pm
All you have to do is sell your soul, it’s a cheap and replenishable commodity.
4. Tim | December 4th, 2008 at 8:16 pm
Great website, I love the look of your blog. Any ideas you have to improve my site?
5. Delfosse | December 5th, 2008 at 1:08 am
It’s not “Montey Python”, it’s “Monty”.
That being said, I realize I’m whiter and nerdier.
6. Chris C | December 5th, 2008 at 3:04 am
Good, but you need more serious commentary as opposed to just describing the crappy game.
You should do this with porn as well
7. Soloscarecrow | December 5th, 2008 at 4:08 am
I Spit On Your Grave.
8. wank | December 5th, 2008 at 5:56 am
wanna trade jobs, dude?
9. esch | December 5th, 2008 at 7:34 am
by the way is there a link to the actual review of the game, would be fun to compare the 8.5 score and high praises (parsed with some careful critisism) the game recieved with the secret loathing the reviewer actually felt about the game. Hidden deep inside his dark mind, far away from the disney corporation owned boss who needs certain games hyped through the roof for the continuing advertisment profits
btw you should check this site out for honest reviews, probably the author of this already knows about it and fantasises about doing something similar if he only could get through the censoring machine…
http://www.escapistmagazine.com/videos/view/zero-punctuation
10. Scathing Review | December 5th, 2008 at 7:42 am
I liked it. It manages to be jocular without spitting the loathsome bucket of bile and self pity that oozes from this vomit puddle of privileged criticism masquerading as something other than a collection of hackneyed liberal arts degrees with a monolithic sense of entitlement and the fear of going home and running daddy’s business. As for Gary, he isn’t exactly gospel, the fat fucker.
This is the guys first article, be charitable.
11. abelincoln | December 5th, 2008 at 11:37 am
Hey Scathing Review, talking about bile…
12. Scathing Review | December 5th, 2008 at 12:51 pm
Oops! I must have forgotten about irony. Good catch!
13. Hank | December 5th, 2008 at 2:10 pm
Damn, it is I Spit On Your Grave. Next time less vodak, more fact checking! (although I think pissing on graves is funnier)
14. Soloscarecrow | December 5th, 2008 at 5:09 pm
/agreed that I Piss On Your Grave is funnier
15. esch | December 6th, 2008 at 8:39 am
what the fuck is he talking about me? Well it’s good to know that not everyone reading this paper is an everyman and indeed some people are the kind of unhinged psychos you’d think the exile would attract. Keep working on your fucking Houllebeq diction or what the fuck ever you do and maybe someday you’ll be clever enough to impress somebody. Here’s a tip for free; go easy on the big words next time so you don’t end up looking like the “hackeneyed liberal arts degrees” you’re trying to insult. Jesus…
16. Scathing Review | December 7th, 2008 at 7:00 pm
Esch, i was not talking to or about you. I liked your post and your link was very interesting – thank you.
I don’t KNOW why you took offense, the chronological order of the postings must have given you just cause to assume I was for some reason attacking you. In any case, it’s Michel Houellebecq and I am so very sorry I failed to impress you.
You do have my sincere apologies as well as my promise than if in the future I do happen to post after you, my post will be filled with flattering praise and warm serenity – so as not to endanger your jugular vein, and the distension thereof.
Scathingly Yours,
Review
P.S. – Thank you for your wonderful tip. I am sure you will be kindly rewarded by those closer to you. Perhaps even someone with a degree in French Literature?
17. Palmer Eldritch | December 8th, 2008 at 1:21 am
Esch, wile it’s not easy for me to put up with such fatheaded state-school grade abuse of language and image and McSweeneyeaque reek of townies’ gentry, I did feel compelled to give Scathing Review’s comment a second look because I was intrigued by his metaphor, broken though it was, and its gnarled contents.
I believe that in his misguided attempt to frame his argument in his imitation of the clipped diction of a clever detective, or possibly in the closest approximation to Mark Ames that his empathic engine could conceive, it’s been left unclear what he was referring to, but I wanted to make sure you were aware that it wasn’t without merit.
In order to appear jocular, we must admit that it is sometimes necessary to spit much bile and self-pity into a bucket, or to scoop up some vomit or something else equally loathsome in its place. Obviously, this review managed to be jocular without fulfilling this customary requirement.
Since privileged criticism can masquerade as many things, we cannot ignore the possibility that a puddle of vomit used to fill a bucket and reinforce the idea that one is jocular may be privileged criticism posing as something other than what it is, as it does when it appears in the guise of a disgust for the idea of returning home and running one’s father’s business.
Privileged criticism can also masquerade as some kind of hackneyed college degree, almost always in the liberal arts, and when it hides itself in the folds of the gay and multi-colored procession of liberal arts graduations and their processions down the street, which then after photo sessions often devolves into groups who get into rented limos, taxis and even, indeed, hackney coaches, in order to have lunch at some local restaurant, this gesture clearly indicates a monolithic sense of entitlement.
Those who involve themselves in the pursuit of liberal arts degrees are always at risk of becoming hackneyed in a more metaphorical sense, as they devolve into privileged critics who live away from their city of birth, feel as if they are monolithically entitled not to work for their family’s business, families’ businesseses, or families’ business, or family’s businesses, if such thing exists, and could very well someday to be forced to masquerade as a puddle of vomit or something else other than a nepotism-averse holder of a degree that will soon be as obsolete as the blunderbuss.
Those whose families have no businesses but pursue liberal arts degrees will likely feel monolithically entitled, regardless, to be perceived as jocular without throwing up into a bucket or indeed presenting any bucket or any loathesome substance of any kind.
It is this guy’s first review, so let him go this time, but next time our man here with the dictionary can rightly expect proof positive of bile, vomit, self-pity, or something else loathesome if he wants us to think he is really a jocular guy.
18. George | December 9th, 2008 at 10:53 am
Little known fact: People’s proclivity to rant is boring.
The more you know!
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