Category Archives: ps3

Dear Drake: A Letter from Lara


Dear Nathan:

Is it Nathan or Nate? Either way, hi. I guess we haven’t officially met, but my name’s Lara. Lara Croft. Maybe you’ve heard of me? Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I recently played through your Playstation 3 game Uncharted, and I thought it appropriate to drop you a note.

Thanks for totally biting my style. I MEEN I RAID TOMBS DOOD JEEZ. That’s my thing. Playing through your game was exactly like playing through one of my games. Shoot some dudes, navigate some catacombs, solve a thousand-year-old puzzle, shoot some more dudes. Rinse, admire the realistic water physics, repeat.

Wait, I should clarify, playing your Uncharted game was just like playing one of my Tomb Raider games, EXACTLY like playing one of my Tomb Raider games, except for one thing — YOUR GAME IS GOOD. My game hasn’t been good since Tomb Raider 2, and was it even good then? I mean, I had boobs, but when you look past that, does anything else stand out?

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Insert a Quarter to Continue: DLC and Broken Storylines

Downloadable Content? I love it! It’s like printing free money! It’s a trick we learned from heroin dealers: give people a little bit, but not enough to tide them over, and then charge them exorbitant fees to continue with the taste of heroin that they’ve come to love. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go eat bacon-covered diamonds. Because I’m that fucking rich.

-Unnamed Microsoft Executive

The most obvious complaints against Downloadable Content, or DLC, have been made many times, so I’ll rehash them quickly before I get to my point. Basically, companies sell incomplete games, and then make you pay to complete them. Or, they charge too much for content that adds very little to the game. (“For only $10, you can get the Modern Warfare 2: Hat Editor! Change your character’s hat to a cowboy hat, fedora, or bowler! And if you like the Hat Editor, make sure to get the $5 Hat Editor expansion, which allows you to purchase a baseball hat in one of 4 awesome colors!”) Those are valid points, and reason enough to hate the policy of charging for DLC.

I’d like to add another problem with a lot of DLC: it breaks storylines.

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Gazing into the Future: Legos

The year is twenty-oh-ten, people. Welcome to the future.  Not so shabby is it? Well, no flying cars, but look on the bright side, there are still plenty of idiots who mention the lack of flying cars every time you bring up the future. That’s something, right?

Okay, I need you to look farther than today and farther than tomorrow, I need you to stare deep into a likely future where I have a child. Do you see it? Now I want you to imagine a slightly less likely future where I actually know that I have a child. Got it? Now I need you to imagine the least likely of futures, a future where my child’s mother allows me to name our first born son Cthulu Dorsey. Are you there? Good. And action:

Adam: Hey, Cthulu!
Cthulu: Hey, Dad!
Adam: I have a present for you!
Cthulu: What is it, Dad?!
Adam: Legos!
Cthulu: YAY! Let me turn on my xbox 1440!
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Tony Hawk Tuesday

It’s #TonyHawkTuesday, and I had to share my excitement.

Training for Modern Warfare 2

50 Cent: Blood on the AWESOME

50centskullquarters

I didn’t play the first 50 Cent game (Bulletproof), not because of it’s quality (or lack there of), but because I simply wasn’t picking up what it was putting down. A rap star who had been pitched as the streetest thug since Pac, 50 Cent wound up just rhyming about scoring with models and taking trips to candy shops. He was not the gangsta I was looking for, and so the idea of playing a game where I pretended to be a gangsta who was pretending to be a gangsta didn’t really appeal to me.

But then this game came out called 50 Cent: Blood on the Sand, and that changed everything. The story is brilliant, stupid, and brilliant, and here is a rundown: 50 Cent and the G Unit crew are playing the last show of their world tour, in some unnamed middle eastern country. The promoter stiffs them the $50 million they were promised (for one show? I have to write five blog posts to get that), and when Fiddy has to choke a bitch, the promoter gives them a diamond encrusted skull instead of the $50 million. Fiddy says sure.

(What exactly would a rap star do with a diamond encrusted skull? I don’t ask. I assume that it is the modern day equivalent to Michael Jackson wanting the elephant man’s bones.)

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Hackers – Bioshocked

Hackers is pretty much the greatest movie ever made. Only problem is, the “hacking” special effects don’t really stand the test of time. That’s why I’ve gone ahead and fixed them and made them look like how we visualize hacking today.

Resident Evil 5: What You May Have Heard

resident-evil-5

Today, I received my thick Gamefly envelope in the mailbox, and instead of seeing a bright shiny copy of Batman: Arkham Asylum shimmering out at me like a batarang shimmers in that crisp Gotham moonlight, within the dusty confines of this particular Gamefly package I only found a dirty, scratchy, remnant of the woes of gaming past. It was labeled Resident Evil 5.

Now don’t get me wrong, Resident Evil 5 was on my queue, but it was a few spaces down, you know, with other games that I wanted to play shoved way out in front of it. I had stacked a barricade of quality games between me and Chris Redfield’s ‘roid muscles, I promise you this. Batman: Arkham Asylum, for instance, it was there in the number one spot.  And Prototype, it was stabbing folks with its little anti-hero-claw-hand-things there at number two.  Even Wolverine: Origins was ahead of Resident Evil 5, both of which I only have a morbid curiosity about, but the former of which has Wolverine, so it naturally gets priority. But for some reason, today, Gamefly said no, let’s not send him something he wants to play, let’s send him Resident Evil 5.
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Tomb Raider: Underworld

Tomb-Raider-Underworld

You guys, I just decided what I want to be when I grow up. No, not a giraffe (although that would be super sweet too!) But no, after playing through the first three levels of Tomb Raider: Underworld, I totally want to be an archeologist!  I mean, seriously, you guys, did you know that archeologists get to carry around guns?  It’s true. There was a part where I pulled out my two gats and shot a shark in the face, UNDERWATER (!) I KNOW, RIGHT? Then I was whisked away to some other exotic locale, where I proceeded to FUCK UP some dead guy’s ancient burial place. I mean, seriously, there was a part there where I took out my shotgun and just blasted into the wall for like five minutes. It was awesome. Plus, if you break open these priceless vases that are scattered around, you can pull out these little artifacts, put them in your backpack, and I don’t know, get some gamerscore or something. IT’S FUCKIN’ MY NEW CAREER, DUDE.

Wait, let me start over. What I meant to say was: I played some Tomb Raider: Underworld, and I did not have a good time.  But hold on, I liked Tomb Raider when I was 14, right? Well, it turns out that  the reasons I liked Tomb Raider when I was 14, they don’t really transfer over to me liking Tomb Raider now. Part of that has to do with just how far we’ve come in gaming, that the same gameplay mechanics that used to wow us, now they just barely get us by.

Part of it has to do with boobs.

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An Open Letter to a Call of Duty 4 Player

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Dear fellow Call of Duty 4 player,

We were in a multiplayer match recently, and you disconnected from me before I could offer a fair rebuttal to your accusations, and so I wanted to take this opportunity, in a public forum, to express my dismay.

First off, I am not homosexual. Despite my gameplay shortcomings, and the way my xbox live headset ups the effeminate nature of my voice, I assure you that I have been attracted to women for as long as I can remember. I love the company of the opposite gender, both as friends and as sexual partners. In fact, I have been with my current girlfriend for ten months now, and things are going very well, thank you. I guess all I mean is, when I shoot you, or you shoot me, or whatever gameplay occurs, if you could refrain from incorrectly calling me “fag,” “faggot,” or implying that you just “butt-fucked” me with that last sniper kill, that would be much appreciated.

Also, if I may go off on a bit of a tangent, I would like to state, matter-of-factly, that there is a huge difference between getting “butt-fucked” and shot with a sniper rifle.  They are different in many respects, for example, one involves a sniper rifle, while the other is primarily governed by the forceful insertion of… I should get back to the point at hand.

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