The gaming world has been abuzz as of late with the impending release of one of the last year's most hotly anticipated action games. No, not World War II: Normandy, the bargain-basement ValuSoft game created by ex-Daikatana team members in approximately 0.4% of the time. No, not the latest Playstation game where scantily clad women have lesbian sex briefly interrupted by killing monsters. Not even the eighteenth Half-Life compilation which includes another mod with some submachine guns.
I am of course referring to Serious Sam, which has been the subject of rave reviews from the media, with PC Gamer calling it "the Doom killer" and Computer Games Monthly saying it's "the best first-person shooter made entirely by Croatians." With such critical acclaim from the two released demos, could the Croatian masterminds behind our beloved alliterative protagonist possibly go wrong? The answer, of course, is yes.
Before an angry mob armed with torches and two-by-fours hunts me down and hangs me by my testicles from the nearest church steeple, let me quantify that statement: I used to like Serious Sam. Like most people I was enthralled with the bright textures and the pretty lights and the mile-long levels. It was a break from the standard fare of gloomy passages and dank caverns that the FPS genre had all but disintegrated into. But then I made my fatal mistake: I tried to play it multiplayer.
During one of my visits to Lowtax's plush Malibu estate, between downing White Russians and gold laced hors d'oeuvres, Rich mentioned that he had downloaded the latest Serious Sam test and wanted to try out the newly implemented co-op mode. Following is a timeline of events from the session:
With such varied action and nail-biting suspense, it's no wonder GOD Games jumped at the chance to publish Serious Sam! Of course, GOD Games also jumps at the chance to hire leather-clad midgets and project 50-foot displays of lesbian makeout sessions, so their credibility might be questioned.
Wrestling With Emotions
Something Awful's biweekly love and advice column, Backyard Love, has been updated with a brand-new selection of letters from from those in need of romantic counseling. What will this edition bring for the masters of the Crossover Spinal Suplex? Here's a tidbit:
Dear Backyard Love:The Revolutionary Scarecrow demands you go read or risk multiple puncture wounds from his mighty pitchfork of revolution.
If you are 35 and you are not integrated into the Gigathrax then you are not ready to retire.
While designing this space, I imagined David Fincher being forced to recreate the music video for Nine Inch Nails' Closer in a haunted gas station bathroom.
My game is funded. Now I know everything.
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