The games that we play are littered with various characters that can and will beat the living hell out of any alien, zombie, Nazi or parked motorcar. Admittedly, most of these guys could drink me under the table with relative ease – if they were real and, more to the point, paying. But there are definitely a few out there that I can’t help but look at and wonder just how much a couple of whiskeys would go to their head. Yes, I actually think about these things, don’t you? Hit the jump for just a few characters that I think would be all over the place at the mere sight of the bottom of a glass.
Rico – Killzone 2
“We all know the type, loud as a motorbike, but wouldn’t bust a grape in a fruit fight”.
After playing the original Killzone it became painfully apparent that this loud, pottymouthed tough guy with the huge gun – who knows where that went, but it was massive – was actually an undercover peace activist, sent into battle with orders to kill but the bright idea that one less big gun to give to somebody that would actually use it would help bring global peace. Amazingly, Killzone 2 saw him somehow miraculously rise through the ranks, lose his gun and then become rather useful to the ISA. They must give anybody those bloody stripes.
But you can’t kid a kidder, Rico. That loud mouth of yours may have gotten you this far but you and I both know that deep down you’re a big softy. I’d say a couple of pints of lager would unleash what is really going on inside your head.
So, it’s about 10pm, and while everybody is just getting tipsy, Rico is in full swing. He’s the guy up on the table thinking himself to be the life and soul of the party, while everybody else is cowering and looking anywhere but in his direction. He whips off his shirt and swings it around his head, moving his hips violently and throwing a peace sign with his other hand, chanting: “whoo, whoo, whoo!” – he has limited vocabulary, y’know.
Half an hour later, the man’s in tears repeatedly insisting that he wishes he could be himself around the guys without this “man’s man” image he always seems to project. The trouble is, you can always see it in his eyes, can’t you? That weakness hidden behind a constant barrage of trash talk. Those true emotions that pour out of him once he’s on the sauce.
Verdict: Stick to Red Bull, you lightweight. You’re no good to me with a conscience.
Zoey – Left 4 Dead
Killing hoards of zombies is no stroll in the park, I’ll give you that. It takes some real guts and nerve to be able to stand there and pick off the undead, headshot by headshot. Zoey’s no soft touch when it comes to doing this and can handle as much as anybody. It’s all a front though, she’s really a frightened little girl who didn’t get enough love from mommy and daddy. A college dropout who flunked just to piss off her folks. An attention seeking little so and so.
“Dude, I’m half your size! Get up!”
Get a couple of vodkas down this young lady’s neck and you’ve got a real livewire on your hands. Her size doesn’t help her when it comes to drinking, that’s for sure. She’s shouting in your ear at the club, with more volume than necessary – the music isn’t even loud at all. You’re begging for a way out of this situation you’ve got yourself into, looking anxiously around for your friends. She’s turning hot and cold, telling you she hates her parents one minute, grabbing your groin and swearing she’s “crazy in bed” the next.
On paper, this would seem like a great situation. But when she starts dancing like her life depends on it, looking at you like she about to either announce her undying love for you, kill herself or throw up, it starts to become something of a pain in the ass. Plus, she’s a terrible dancer, so you’re nervously smiling at the bewildered partygoers around you, who think you’ve just slipped something in her drink. She throws up on your chest and that’s that.
Verdict: Once you’re done with the zombies, go back to college and drink a milkshake.
Otacon – Metal Gear Solid
He’s cute and cuddly. A cute and cuddly scientist with a heart of gold. Get this guy a couple of shorts and he’s anyone’s. Stuck looking at a computer screen all day, watching all the cool stuff happen without being able to get any of the action yourself can do strange things to a man. Otacon has a lot to let loose.
He decides to let Drebin – the smooth talking arms dealer from MGS4 – take him to a “little place he knows”. Things start off OK, Drebin’s playing it cool, introducing the barman to his pal and goofing about the politics of modern warfare – a subject that Otacon feels somewhat comfortable with. But within an hour Otacon is swapping looks with a sixty-something “blonde” on the other side of the bar. She’s licking her lips and playing on the bespectacled one’s want for brains and experience.
The trouble is, Otacon loses the plot after one too many helpings of Baileys. He hits the Jack Daniels and before Drebin’s monkey can grab his leg and stop him, everyone’s favorite boffin is making a bee-line toward this mysterious tease.
“Yep, Solid Snake – but you can call me Snake. If I don’t become invisible, that is. Ever heard of Shadow Moses? No? Well… I was welcomed by an awful snowstorm, dropped in via a helicopter…”
Otacon never even considered using a toilet cubicle like this before. He then wonders if the real Solid Snake has done, resulting in him losing focus and ultimately failing in his highly uncharacteristic quest. The lady is confused as to how such an incredible soldier can be so terrible at quickies. Otacon makes a sharp exit through the toilet window, landing awkwardly and wishing he could successfully forward roll.
Verdict: Get back to what you know. Milk. Milk. More milk.
You – Far Cry 2
Rule number one: Don’t drink while you’re on medication unless you want a really fantastic night. If you have malaria and are on a mission to kill half of Africa, don’t bother.
I’m going to refer to Marty for this example. To me, he looks most likely to make the decision to “scout” an enemy checkpoint and make off with a case of rum in the back of his Jeep. This move, which ever way you look at it, will only result in the kind of experience that would make any of my previous suggestions seem pathetically tame.
Marty begins by ploughing his car into the nearest tree. He then somehow backs the smoking hunk of junk up and starts off again. At first, his drunk state gives him this sense of blind determination. But, when he’s plunging into a river two minutes later, Marty begins to realise that drinking half a litre of this paint stripper is going to end badly.
He clambers out and into the nearest jungle. Rolling around like some possessed chimp, Marty is becoming increasingly paranoid and acutely aware of his surroundings – or so he thinks. An enemy car pulls up about sixty yards away and our paralytic protagonist dives head-first into a bush. Two hours later he wakes up to find it’s very dark and he’s still very much intoxicated. In fact, he takes a swig more for good measure but, to be fair, I think we all would when in such circumstances; his ability to be sensible is lying back at his last safe house, much like yours would after a few beverages.
Having no idea where he is, Marty strolls towards a bright light in the distance. A bullet suddenly ricochets from a nearby rock and into a tree. If he thought these bastards had a good shot before, Marty will soon realise they’re masters of the art while he is traveling in real-time bullet-time.
What happens next involves about five grenades, three molotovs, the worst kind of sniper rifle shooting you’ve ever seen (no-scope? Come on, son), some singed hair and a whole host of desperate lunges.
Verdict: Drink water, and lots of it. Being trapped in this nightmare is no good when you don’t know your ass from your elbow.
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