Gamer Limit » Humor

Happy April Fools 2012 — An April Fools Roundup

Chris Carter — Sun, 01 Apr 2012 17:42:27 +0000

April Fools is upon us, and in true internet fashion, gags and goofs are fairly aloof around the interwebs. While nothing this year even comes close to Faxtoid 2011, there’s still some fun to be had.

Here’s a collection of our journey through April 1st, 2012 so far — if you have more to add, feel free to write in below — otherwise we’ll keep adding more as we find them.

Zombies have my heart, but they can’t have my brains

Dennis Scimeca — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 18:14:01 +0000

They’re everywhere in video games right now, it seems. A recent email alert from the iTunes store linked me to a page that must have had 20 zombie iPhone games ready for purchase. Call of Duty: World at War’s Nazi Zombies practically drove map pack sales for months, and I’ve thought about picking up a used copy of the game explicitly to have access to it again. The speculation that the zombies are returning in Black Ops consistently pops up in gaming news.

Age of Zombies is the top selling PSN Mini. Borderlands had a zombie-themed DLC add-on. Crackdown 2 tossed some zombie-like creatures in for good measure. Red Dead Redemption is going to have zombie DLC. Fat Princess is rumored to have a zombies mode coming, for chrissakes. Is enough enough?

Not for me. Zombies and video games are the perfect mix. Among other reasons, zombies work in video games generally for the same reason that Nazis will always make the best opponents for first person shooter titles: you don’t have to feel bad for killing them because, hey, they’re zombies. You don’t have to take anyone’s crap because you enjoy slaughtering thousands of them. You’re not engaging in violent behavior. You’re training to ensure the survival of your species, ladies and gentlemen.

My fascination with zombies began when I was in ninth grade, with the original Dawn of the Dead. A friend of a friend was insanely into George Romero, which is how the film wound up on a Saturday afternoon watch list. Not only had I never seen gore of that ridiculously in-your-face nature before, but I’d never really encountered zombies before, outside of Michael Jackson’s Thriller video, but that was before I knew to call them “zombies.”

The question I could not stop asking the friends I saw Dawn of the Dead with was “But how did things get that way?” I couldn’t image how society could ever fall apart to the point where the walking dead would outnumber the living. It seemed so simple: shoot them in the head. The army could drop snipers and pallets’ worth of ammunition on rooftops, and the snipers could use megaphones and call out to the zombies to come get dinner and then plunk them off one by one.

I try and ignore the running zombies nonsense, though it’s worth noting that more often than not the further we get into this sub-genre the more we call them “infected” rather than “zombies.” Old-fashioned shambler zombies are so much scarier to me, because life or death comes down to thinking smart and planning ahead. As long as you act calmly and rationally, you can win. Note that in all the Romero zombie films things are usually fine until the humans start acting like idiots.

I’m less picky about runners or shamblers in video games, because in the end gamers handle them both the same way. The cinematic rules still apply: it’s about thinking ahead, and playing smart, and this translates into highly satisfying gameplay.

Cooperation and communication are the bedrock of successful first person shooter multiplayer gaming. Anyone who has spent a significant amount of time with multiplayer FPS titles can attest to the stark and immediate difference in team-based matches when we play with friends versus random pick-up groups of strangers online. Zombie-based cooperative games don’t make this behavior an option, but a bare necessity.

In Nazi Zombies, as long as you keep your cool and repair boarded-up entrances and cover the angles, a team of four can survive for a very long time to the point where lack of ammunition or clear communication become the enemy, not the zombies. Handling Left 4 Dead’s zombies also comes down to players’ ability to work as a team, covering each other during reloads, organizing attempts to get to a fallen comrade, and calling out when the “special zombies” require “special attention.”

In single-player games, zombies require a careful, methodical approach even when we’re talking about runners. You can’t get your back against the wall. You need to keep moving from areas of greater to lesser zombie density. The zombies in Dead Rising are only truly a threat if you allow yourself to get cornered, or are ill-equipped with not enough weapons. The same goes for the zombies in Resident Evil, well, up until Resident Evil 5, anyway. I like it when video games require me to think a little and plan ahead.

The out-of-touch like to look at video gamers and think of us as slothful zombies of another fashion, just numbly playing our video games. In reality, we are all training for the day when our superior hand-eye coordination constitutes the line between the survival of the human race and a world full of shambling corpses. It’s going to happen, sooner or later – caused by radioactive satellites, rage viruses, biowarfare experiments, or the plain-old End Times – and the video gamers will be ready because we know how to cooperate and plan a few steps ahead.

In keeping with both my zombie fascination, and the shiny new toy which is my 3GS iPhone, my hosts here at Gamer Limit have decided to indulge me with some reviews of the best iPhone zombie-centric titles, so pardon me while I go get some practice in such that I can save all of you who don’t play the zombie games when the apocalypse comes…

Editorial: Fill In The RPG Cliche

Jason Anton — Sun, 06 Jun 2010 20:01:17 +0000

There are a lot of clichés in video game stories. Too many. It seems that for every original, well-written narrative, there are ten cookie-cutter stories churned out.

The other day I came across a fill-in-the-blanks story and decided it might be fun to implement a generic RPG storyline into it. I then filled in the blanks with what I thought was a more accurate depiction of RPG narratives. This is the result.

A teenage boy from a standard small village has a perfect life with a perfect family, except for the fact that he always has a bad haircut. Following the traditional naming practices of small villages, his name is inanimate object, or possibly an adjective. However, he has broken from tradition by choosing to become a fisherman instead of the common small village practice of becoming a hero of destiny/chosen one.

On his sixteenth birthday he leaves the village on a day trip to get naughty with the milkmaid and returns to find his village in flames. Generic bad guys have raided the village and killed/kidnapped your beloved family/parrot. The hero then gets angsty and swears revenge on the perpetrators.

He gathers his possessions and prepares to set out and avenge his parrot. The rest of the villagers lend their aid by selling him badly needed equipment at prices he can’t afford. Once his preparations are complete he says goodbye to the other villagers who have no problem sending a teenage boy to do their dirty work and sets out into the open world.

He gets to work immediately by helping every random stranger with pointless tasks they’re too incompetent to do themselves. Then, while rummaging through strangers’ belongings as they watch, he meets a mysterious old hobo who enlightens him that the raiders who burned his village actually work for the evil name you hear a thousand times in the game and instantly forget when you beat it/End boss. The only way the hero can defeat him is to collect the three fabled cheeseburgers of power. The now drunk hobo informs him where he can find these items of power and then wanders off to send the next random teenager he finds on the same suicide quest.

The hero sets out to right all the wrongs in the world and promptly gets to work by slaying every living thing that crosses his path. He get stronger and gains better equipment that mysteriously falls out of the carcass of every animal he kills.

Over the course of his travels he meets a diverse cast of characters with bad voice acting and shallow character development. One by one they join his party and bolster their overall strength. Eventually, our hero gains the backing of a formidable assortment of heroes but for some reason can only take two of them with him at a time.

He makes his way to the castle where the first cheeseburger of power is kept. He battles hordes of undead/robotic for some reason creatures, and makes it through the poorly designed castle that must be a huge pain in the ass to live in. He confronts the first boss and defeats him after heroically dying and reloading several times.

Our hero collects the cheeseburger of truth/strength/courage/wisdom etc. and, buoyed by its incredible power that doesn’t actually do anything, he sets off to obtain the rest of the set. He endures incredible hardships and some exceptionally tedious grinding, but eventually achieves his goal.

After acquiring the complete set of legendary items, he’s forced into action when the evil I forget his name begins a terrible standard apocalypse scenario. He springs into action and immediately proceeds to wander the world looking for missed side-quests and leveling up.

He arrives at the lair of the evil End boss just in the nick of time for the world to have ended several times already. His tireless efforts to collect the legendary artifacts bear fruit as he uses them to open the door. That’s it? Woo hoo! I’m so glad I went through all that effort. Couldn’t I have just climbed the walls or something?

Our hero battles his way through the lair and finally confronts his nemesis who then proceeds to drone on for hours about nothing in particular. He shakes our hero to the very core when he reveals a shocking twist that he is actually our hero’s long lost parrot or something equally stupid.

Undaunted by this new revelation that everyone figured out hours ago, our hero initiates an amazing final battle against an incredible power. Thankfully, all of his experience has taught him a wide array of powerful abilities that allow him to spam the same attack over and over. After a long and draining battle, our hero ultimately proves victorious and defeats his enemy.

Then, in a sudden and surprising turn of events, the evil parrot transforms his appearance, becomes even more powerful and this surprises absolutely nobody. The epic battle continues, and after defeating parrot’s changed form, he changes yet again into a third ultimate form. Our hero then wonders why he didn’t just use the ultimate form to begin with.

It takes all of his strength, but our hero finally perseveres and defeats his enemy. It was a long, epic quest to reach this point, but thanks to him the world is saved. And after all his time and effort, he is rewarded with some crappy slideshow while the credits play.

And yet, after all of this, I’ll still keep playing these games.

A midnight memoir: FFXIII

Chase C — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 15:22:02 +0000

A disgruntled hello, wrapped in the smell of new and used plastic, welcomes me into my local Gamestop. It’s 10:45 p.m, and people are already milling about. They shift through faceless lithos like homeowners searching someone’s garage for hidden treats.

Others snicker together in neatly packed groups. I start towards the counter when I overhear two of them arguing which Final Fantasy character would be better in the sack. My curiosity can’t be helped; so, I stop and examine a giant cardboard Bioshock 2 that commands, “Buy me now!”

“Dude, Lulu would have to be my top pick. My girlfriend even said she would be willing to have a threesome with her. Perfect, right?”

“No way, dude! I want to keep my penis, and I’m pretty sure that crazy bitch would cut it off. I vote for Quistis and her hot teacher look. I would love for her to drop some knowledge on me.”

“Dude, you don’t know a damn thing about the hottest Final Fantasy character.”

A laugh slips through my teeth, and the two patrons noticed my terrible espionage.

“Right? Quistis *is* a terrible choice. Look man, this guy is laughing at you.”

Pissed that a stranger was laughing at him, he interrogates me. “Yeah? Well, who would you pick?”

Panicking at the personal invasion – I don’t kiss and tell – I said the first thing that came to my head, “Rhydia.”

Their response was a series of blank stares and blinks that would make any anime fan proud. It made me think the unintended implication of pedophilia went unnoticed; I was wrong.

“Dude…she is like…12.”

“Have some class, man.”

I begin an expeditious retreat as they turn away, and I hear a laugh shared at my expense. Embarrassed, I press further into the store. The clerk’s forehead crinkles as he forces a smile and says, “You here for Final Fantasy XIII?”

Thinking that spending my hard-earned $60 will restore a sliver of my credibility, I respond with an over-enthusiastic yes that causes my voice to crack.

His forehead pinches itself closer together, “Whoa man, caps lock?”

Frustrated, I slam my credit card onto the table like a Magic player casting the winning card. The clerk sighs hard enough that I can smell the Taco Bell he had for lunch. Number six with fire sauce. Not my favorite.

I stash the receipt in my pocket and find a spot next to the PC section. It’s a pitiful creature corralled onto one shelf, and it reminds me of an old war veteran sitting among a brand new platoon. No one goes near him because his bitterness for their youth is a terrible ice breaker. I want him to tell me stories about Heroes of Might and Magic II or Hexen. Instead, his bright history is hidden between copies of Diner Dash 2 and a Teletubbies point-and-click adventure. A patron dressed as Squall rips me violently from my daydream, and reminds me the future demands my attention.

His costume is incredibly accurate. He has the jacket, the chain, the pants, and the sword. Oh, the sword. Two wooden blades held together by a center plank and fastened to the barrel of a Nerf gun. His craftsmanship would make Adam Savage and Jamie Hyneman proud. It’s painted silver -up to the hilt of the gun – and the yellow section sticks out like a grown man playing Pokemon. His upbeat attitude gives away his inability to recreate everything, but no one is perfect.

The clock creeps toward midnight and the patrons are rolling in. There is buzz in the air as everyone grows impatient with the increased heat and body odor. I swear a little bit of pot is mixed in there as well. The stench is getting increasingly stronger, and I have to concentrate or I may be trampled to death after I collapse. I think about why Mother 3 hasn’t been released in America, and why biscuits and gravy are so appealing to me. Looking around, I notice a lot of bloodshot eyes and heavy yawns. The stalwart resistance against the sandman’s clutches would make a Dwarven defender proud, and I find strength in their mutual suffering.

There are over 80 people here and their anticipation is spilling into the parking lot into a poorly formed line. Why would so many (mostly) grown men come out here? It smells, and the workers are unenthusiastic and won’t shut up about overpriced strategy guides. Some of us won’t even remove the plastic until late tomorrow evening. Haven’t we outgrown this?

The lines move quickly, and I hand over my receipt as I approach the counter. Squall screams out in joy as a world without Final Fantasy XIII is no more.

As I start towards my car, ready to hand the game a long list of elitist criticisms, I see one of the patrons staring into the cover of his PS3 copy. I catch a reflection in his wet eyes, and I stop. Dancing on his cornea is a six-year old sitting at home on his favorite pillow; holding the two-button gateway to Coneria as black menus dance above his head.

I toss the game into the back seat, and as I adjust the rear-view mirror, I catch a glimpse of myself. The curly blond hair of my youth shakes left and right as he blows into a Popeye cartridge. His contagious smile taints my lips as I realize why we all came out here tonight.

How To Get Your Girlfriend Into Video Games

Simon Jones — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 01:30:43 +0000

With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, and knowing that most of you will probably be curled up in a ball sobbing relentlessly into your pillows, I thought it was high time that I unleashed the secrets of getting a girl into gaming.

You may already have a girlfriend, or you may have a terrified teenager shackled to your washing machine in the basement. Either way, here are some handy tips to get the old ball and chain to start enjoying video games.

Don’t Patronize Her

Too many blokes think that the only way they can get their girlfriends into gaming is by introducing them to the Holy Grail of Shite. Things like Fuzion Frenzy, Hannah Montana The Movie (which, contrary to popular belief, is actually a game), and FunTown Mahjong are in the “You Really Just Have No Idea, Do You?” zone. No, smart guy, the ladies aren’t going to tear off their clothes in a fit of sexual catharsis when you pop in Viva Piñata. Trust me, I’ve tried.

Be a man. Or at least try to be one – that’s obviously the reason why you play video games in the first place. Slap in some Modern Warfare 2 or Gears of War and show her how big and muscly your pixelated avatar really is. She should be swivelling your right analogue stick and smashing her X button in no time.

Don’t Be Afraid To Embarrass Yourself

If for some ridiculous reason your female guest isn’t floored by your manly display of awesome, then you may have to move onto other methods. Kicking her to the curb and waiting for another potential gamer chick is always an option, but it may just be too time-consuming – we all know how long you’ve survived on Lara Croft posters and Internet porn.

Debasing yourself is only acceptable when there is a chance of converting a female specimen into an appreciative geek. Why not hold off on that headshot for a second and see if she realizes that you’re standing right behind her? If she doesn’t, feel free to give her a nice melee hit to the back of the head – let her know you’re there.

But don’t kill her! That will only incense the creature. Allowing the lady to take you down will be a massive boost to her confidence, and may even open the door for you to pop in Bayonetta; be careful with this though, as the leather-clad sexbox has been known to incite acts of extreme jealousy.

Let Her Play Taylor Swift On Rock Band

Let’s be honest here, you probably aren’t the best candidate for picking music on Guitar Hero or Rock Band; that grubby Linkin Park shirt isn’t doing you any favours, either. While you’re getting all “slappa da bass” to Korn, your lady friend is probably texting her other, hotter gamer buddy to hook up with some Battlefield: Bad Company 2 action later that night.

Here’s a thought, Lenny Kravitz, why not switch things over to Blondie, No Doubt or some other musical tripe and let the lady have a turn. Just because it’s your guitar peripheral doesn’t me that it’s going to implode at a woman’s touch.

Only Use Vibration-Enabled Controllers

Martin Bigg is many things, and a lady’s man is just one of them. His number one rule for getting women to enjoy video games is to only use controllers that vibrate. Don’t look at me like that, we all know that you’re severely lacking in the bedroom after a 12-hour session of Borderlands – why not let the controller do the work for you?

Tell your lady friend that the only way to play Street Fighter IV is to use the controller as an arcade pad. Place it gently in the… err… crotchal region, max out the vibration settings, and lay down some serious carnage on her characters.

Just make sure that she doesn’t steal the controller when she’s doing your laundry.

If All Else Fails, Use The Chair

A last resort to most, but may be used when the urge to play co-op rises. The Chair allows you to keep the female firmly planted to the seat, while at the same time allowing for freedom of eye and finger movement. Video game time will be hassle-free, and allow you peace of mind knowing that you are spending quality time with your better half.

Retro Reunion: “The Wizard” Movie Review

James Pinnell — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 13:30:54 +0000

In 1989, a movie was released that promised to be the ultimate film about the gamer. A movie where Fred Savage and his mentally impaired brother would fight against the powers that be (their parents) to become the video game champions of the world.

Where Nintendo would shamelessly flaunt every product they had, and at the end launch the most anticipated game of the late eighties. Where 10-year-old kids were able to travel across the country alone without ringing any bells. Where the Power Glove was king.

This movie was The Wizard, and I’m here to tell you how much it rocked. Please note, there are spoilers. Awesome spoilers.

Any retro gamer worth his salt has either heard, seen, or actually owns a copy of this flick. Next to the Super Mario Bros. Movie, it’s a classic representation of how utterly crazy people were about Nintendo in the 80s. But for those who haven’t seen this masterpiece, here’s the lowdown:

Fred Savage is Corey, a 13-year-old kid in a broken family. His half-brother, Jimmy, is autistic, and is about to be sent to a home after his parents separate and split custody of the kids.

Corey, being the headstrong kid that he his, decides to abduct his brother and run away with $20 to California, because that’s all his brother will keep babbling on about. Along the way, Corey finds out his brother is a video game genius and decides to enter him in the Video Game Championships at Universal Studios in Los Angeles, which conveniently begins in a week.

Unfortunately, the asshole side of the parents aren’t too happy with this fantasy and decide to enlist the aid of possibly the creepiest looking freak to track down Jimmy and drag him back home.

After a run-in with the freak, Corey’s dad and brother decide to take matters into their own hands and find the boys before this “runaway expert” gets his hands on them. Meanwhile, the two boys run into a young girl, Haley (Jenny Lewis, who grew up to become insanely hot), who decides to join them on their little adventure and get a piece of Corey.

Oh yes, sports fans, there is even a tiny, really awkward love story in this movie too.

Along the way, it’s mostly just kid movie slapstick – the freaky guy grabs the wrong kid at a lookout, the family learns to love Nintendo, the kids hitchhike in cake vans, there’s a camp-out in death valley, and they win money by placing bets on arcade games. It’s all quite stupid, but it’s watchable purely for the 80s hilarity factor.

That, and watching Corey’s dad getting all excited playing a NES; it reminds me of what my dad used to be like when he played Zelda. He also throws a shovel at a car. There are some classic scenes and great music. Also a lot of adults attacking children too. Very weird.

But, okay, I’ll admit the movie is pretty poor, (aside from the amazing soundtrack). The acting, plot, story, and dialogue are all laughingly dreadful, but that’s not why the movie was developed, nor why it has such a cult following. The main reason this movie kicks so much ass is because it’s a 1.4 hour Nintendo advertisement. From about 20 minutes in, everything in this movie is Nintendo.

Corey’s older brother and father are both seen in random, completely unnecessary scenes playing Super Mario Bros. 2 and Zelda 2. The scene when Corey discovers his brother’s epic gift is in a restaurant on a Double Dragon arcade machine (50,000!!). Haley is later blessed with the idea of the contest after watching him play Ninja Gaiden.

But really, it all comes down to one epic scene in the middle of the film. Some kid watches Jimmy play and remarks that he “was good, but he’d never beat Lucas“.

Apparently, Lucas is the Nintendo Kingpin of that particular desert town and brags to our trio that he has 97 games and is an elite at all of them. He even wore a black trenchcoast before Neo. Ahem. Lucas takes them back to his house where a shiny silver box is produced, garnished with Lucas’ full name.

The box is opened to display a Nintendo Power Glove. Now, it was universally known that the Power Glove was hands down the most useless Nintendo peripheral ever made. It killed the arm and wrist of the wearer, had pretty much zero advantage over a normal controller, and looked like a prop left over from Battlestar Galactica. But for Jimmy, it was his goddamn Kryptonite. Lucas kicks ass in Rad Racer with it and utters the words so famously associated with this movie.

“I love the Power Glove. It’s so bad.”

I have no idea how he manages to say this with a straight face, especially while holding the glove to his chest like he’s being knighted. Pictures do it no justice; this part is a must see. In any case, Haley stares dreamily at Lucas while Jimmy turns and runs while being flanked by Corey. Lucas advises Haley that he will also be competing in the championships, to which she then walks off in a huff. Then, to be honest, nothing interesting happens till about the last 30 minutes.

Well, except for Christian Slater getting into an argument with his dad before going off to play Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. In fact, it’s pretty much all he does in the movie anyway. His dad also has a go, playing like a spastic five-year-old while excitedly exclaiming how he got “the scroll weapon”. He later does the same thing when playing Zelda 2. Very strange. They also share a bed. I can’t even count how many extremely creepy moments are in this kids movie.

Just before they hit LA, there is a cameo by one of Nintendo’s famous Game Counselors. The trio realise that Jimmy needs to learn up to 70 games in 3 days if he is going to win the championships, so they contact a game counselor to give them all the hints and tips from a hotel phone. He’s extremely helpful for someone who speaks to kids on the phone all day.

How the hell Jimmy managed to master 70 games in three days, I have no idea, but all of them also seem to be in an arcade in Reno, Nevada. They also seem to have 13-year-old bar girls, too. For the record though, the most games in the movie feature in this part – TMNT, MegaMan 2, Metroid, Ninja Gaiden, Off Road, Contra, Operation Wolf, F1 Dream.

Creepy guy finds them at Reno, in which the second best line in the movie is uttered by Haley.

“He TOUCHED my BREAST!”

The cops arrest the freak. He somehow comes back to abduct Jimmy a bit later, but Haley’s trucker friends beat the shit out of him. He still manages to come back again to be a pain in the arse and punch Jimmy’s dad in the face.

Eventually the kids get to Universal Studios just as the competition is about to begin. After a super excitable guy dressed like Mario signs them up, Jimmy blitzes his way through the heats, with Lucas right on his tail. The tournament seems to work on a points system; whoever gets the most points in that particular NES game wins the round.

It doesn’t take long to get to the final round, where $50,000 is up for grabs, and the the unveiling of a new game. A curtain is raised and Super Mario Bros 3 comes up to complete awe. It’s worth knowing that SMB3 released soon after this movie opened in theatres, so it was exciting for everyone. I personally, being eight at the time, was thrilled.

Of course, Jimmy wins, they find out why he’s mental (dead sister, who is never mentioned or referenced in the entire movie, traumatized him) and they all live happily ever after. The one thing I want to know is how the hell Jimmy knew exactly how to get the raccoon suit and fly up to the top on the first world.

I didn’t even know how to do that. Prodigy my ass, he just got lucky.

Bioshock 2 Special Edition unboxing video is comedic genius

Shawn Evans — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 22:28:38 +0000

Last year I turned the world of video game unboxing videos upside down when I created my own personal unboxing video for the PSPgo. Well it appears that those crafty game designers over at 2K Games have seen my incredible piece of cinematic brilliance, and have decided to one-up it with their own Bioshock 2 Special Edition unboxing video.

I must admit that the beginning of their video starts out as you would typically expect, with some random person boringly taking everything out of the box, but by the end they take it to a whole new level. Trust me when I say you need to watch this, as it’s just pure comedic genius.

I have to say the Bioshock 2 Special Edition does include a lot of kick-ass goodies. Publishers just don’t release collector’s editions like this anymore. If I had more faith in the game I would definitely pick it up, but unfortunately I don’t.

How many of you plan on purchasing this bundle when it comes out? Does 2K Games deserve your hard earned money?

Bioshock 2 releases on February 9th for the PC, Xbox360, and PS3.

Racing Games Don’t Belong In Your Rear-View Mirror

Andrew Kauz — Thu, 28 Jan 2010 16:37:43 +0000

Racing games aren’t for everyone. Car enthusiasts may clutch their $100 force-feedback wireless steering wheels in anticipation of Gran Turismo 5, but most others think these people are just spinning their wheels. In the absence of narrative and varied objectives, what remains to appeal to the average player?

There’s quite a lot, actually. If you haven’t been following racing games in recent years, then you’ll be surprised at just how varied and downright fun some of the genre’s latest offerings are. Best of all, racing games are constantly borrowing from some of your favorite franchises and genres, giving players of all persuasions more and more reasons to slip on a nice pair of racing gloves. Pokeracing, driving to maim, and a racing game with clowns and cream pies all await you after the jump.

Forza 3: Wait, cars are too big to fit in Pokeballs! The designation of Forza 3 as a racing simulator is likely to scare off a handful of potential players. The term “simulation” brings with it that ugly connotation of “difficult” and “impenetrably complex.” For some, it may even engender feelings of boredom. You drive an hour to work everyday; why would you want to splay out on the couch only to get into yet another realistic driver’s seat? The beauty of Forza 3 lies in its ability to tailor the difficulty to each individual gamer, essentially giving the player the power to make the game into a variety of different experiences. This is far from the basic scaling opponents’ skill seen in so many other games; myriad difficulty options are available that have a far more profound effect on what the experience is like for the player. These include everything from the level to which your car will become damaged to the driver assistance systems that are enabled on the cars that you drive. You can select how much the driving line tells you (that is, whether it shows you exactly where to brake, turn, and accelerate, whether it simply tells you when to brake, or whether it is present at all), and you can even opt to rewind the race if you do something stupid.

Frustration becomes nearly a non-issue. Skill level is not a barrier but simply a benchmark used to determine how you will play the game, and how the game will help you have the most enjoyable experience possible. But what of that “experience?” I will concede that there’s only so much enjoyment that can be squeezed out of a 640-horsepower Lamborghini Reventón screaming across the same tracks that appear in all racing sims. Luckily, the driving isn’t where the experience ends in Forza 3. In essence, Forza 3 is the game that you would get if you could mount and ride Pokemon. So much about this game is centered on progression and collection, both of yourself as a driver and the cars that you acquire. A primary draw is the constant upgrading you can do to your car, which is handled in a couple of different ways. Firstly, you and your cars gain experience.

Yes, that same XP that pervades every RPG and that has found its way into nearly every modern game genre. If you use a car, it will gain experience. If you earn enough XP, you’ll gain a level. Gaining levels gives you the ability to purchase upgrades for your cars at lower prices. Which leads us to the real meat: the upgrading system. Just as Pikachu evolves into Raichu, your shitty Ford Focus can evolve into a… well, still a Ford Focus, but one that doesn’t feel like it’s custom made for the opening scene in Office Space.

A new engine begets more horsepower, new tires beget better grip, and painting a cock on the side of your car begets 100,000 credits in the auction house. I meant a rooster, of course. E for Everyone and all of that. The incredible amount of customization will give completionists an aneurysm or two; while the marketers of Pokemon may say that you “Gotta Catch ‘Em All”, Forza 3 seems to let out a nefarious chuckle and say “I dare you to catch ‘em all.” Users submit new car designs to the auction house each day, and while most of them seem inspired by sexual deviance and drunken regurgitation, the spirit of collection will compel you to buy, buy, buy.

Then there’s the new career mode that treats a series of events as a “season” that offers different races based on the cars that you own, ensuring that you’ll never feel like you’re following the same tired progression of races that so many other driving games follow. The result of all of this? Forza 3 is a racing game that does everything in its power to give you some fantastic driving that’s enveloped by some of the best elements of other genres. Maybe the next entry in the series will add some annoying characters and save points!

Burnout Paradise: Racing Meets World. Sorry, no Topanga. Did you know that you can actually drive motor vehicles on blackened areas of the Earth that aren’t designated as “tracks?” No finish line; no checkered flag. Crazy, right? There’s a whole world out there just waiting for you to drive in. OK, so maybe other open-world games have taught you this fact. Grand Theft Auto showed us the joy of misappropriating vehicles for the slaughter of innocents, but only a select few games have given us the opportunity to take part in legitimate races in a world designed for racing.

Burnout Paradise is one of those games. And the best part? It manages to retain many of the elements that make open-world games so appealing despite the fact that you can never leave the driver’s seat of your car. The first element is variety. Open-world games are known for the freedom that they give to the player. Want to climb to the city’s tallest building only to leap to your death? You can do that. Want to drive your car into a wall at one mile-per-hour for thirty minutes? Go nuts, you silly clown. Paradise is much like that, only with more flying glass and metal. Sure, you’re restricted to your vehicle, but your vehicle isn’t restricted to the ground; gravity is punched in the trousers as you send masses of metal flying off of parking structures, bridges, and hillsides.

And like other open world games, you have plenty of opportunity to piss around doing nothing for hours. This is made possible thanks to the game’s “collectibles,” which approach the level of Crackdown in their sheer number. For instance, there are 400 gates in the game that you can “smash” through. As soon as the game starts counting your smashes, you’ll forget that this is an utterly ridiculous thing to care about, just like getting that last agility orb in Crackdown, which I swear to Michael McConnohie I will find one day. But rest assured that there’s an actual game in here – in fact, there’s quite a lot of it. Racing is only half of what you’ll find in the game. So much of the game is related to battling your opponents where, like many other game genres, your opponents are an actual threat to you.

They won’t just try to drive faster than you, they will try to drive through you. If you know anything about the Burnout series, you know that it’s all about crashes. Paradise expands upon this focus by giving you more and more ways to crash. You can send your car tumbling through the air at any time with the game’s Showtime mode, and the varied events offer everything from head-to-head races to stunt runs. Basically, every possible car-related activity that human beings can conceive is possible in Burnout Paradise. Well, except for ghost riding the whip, but that’s what sequels are for!

Excitebots: Trick Racing: SUPER SANDWICH I honestly don’t know that there are enough words in the English language to fully encompass what Excitebots: Trick Racing is. Hell, even the game’s title fails to accurately represent the game. I mean, racing? What’s that? It’s easy to forget that you’ve driving toward a finish line in Excitebots. Between the starting line and the checkered flag, you’ll be focused on everything but racing. Instead, you’ll be concerned with things like clowns, soccer balls, poker, and, yes, super sandwiches. To summarize: Excitebots is a racing game involving animal-themed robotic vehicle things that have magically sprouting prehensile limbs that allow the bots to take part in a variety of challenges spread strategically across tracks.

Some are pretty simple: latch onto a bar and spin yourself around, or drive head-first into a football as you try to split the uprights. Others are a bit more complex and far more ridiculous: collect all of the necessary ingredients to make a super sandwich, or toss a line into the water and reel in a great fish. And all of this happens as you battle other bots to reach the finish line first. The game’s greatest success is that it manages to feel very little like a racing game; the strange, rapid-fire mini-games will remind you of the WarioWare series, while the utter insanity of it all might be best compared to something like Namco’s Point Blank. The racing that’s there is solid enough; you can boost, knock your opponents about, and punch gravity in its already-tender nether regions as you pull off an 1800-degree flat spin. But it’s all infused with a special brand of insanity. So, now do you know what this game is about?

Yeah, neither do I. Anyway, the point of all of this isn’t to try to convince you that racing is fun. If you don’t like trying to drive wheeled things on tracks more quickly than other wheeled things, then none of the games above are going to inject the blood of a racer into your veins. However, if you’ve been scoffing at recent driving games because they’re all the same, then you owe it to the genre to take another look. There’s some ridiculous fun to be had on the roads less traveled.

Starcraft Nights and Marlboro Lights

James Pinnell — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 16:49:15 +0000

Real Time Strategy: heroin of the hardcore gaming landscape, its consumption not only draining, but soul destroying; its almost sensual draw is intense and powerful. Addicts are careful, for detection is the first step of their inevitable intervention.

The smart ones hide their gear; Red Alert 2 are discs “misplaced” in the depths of a desk drawer, Zero Hour permanently in the drive. Starcraft cracked and shortcuts forged because the mind alerting Zerg are the highest grade of purity known to gamer.

Have you ever been addicted? I was, before I was saved. Saved by the power of gaming diversity itself, the divine being that dripfeeds that cleansing variety, the wonderous balance.

But one cannot truly be cleansed. My past was a sordid one, full of micromanagement, nuke cannons and overlord tanks. Zerg rushes and cannon spams. Follow me as I detail my road to ruin, and my subsequent path to redemption.

Things were never always like this. My path to ultimate ruin began with a simple speculation, a simple flirtatious curiosity. A friend of mine in high school invited me around to his house in 1994, praising the merits of a certain game. He knew I had a penchant for strategy, a certain intéressant in anticipating the movements of my adversaries. Eventually, my inquisitiveness peaked and I gave in to sheer wonderment; my evil friend grinning at another potential convert, as I began to play Dune 2.

What got me interested in this particularly intriguing concept was the idea of constructing a base. Never before had any game I played provide you with the tools to construct your own army in your own way, in real time. Before long, I was slapping down concrete foundations like the best of them, pumping out little soldiers to do my bidding, extracting spice, and softly cackling as my plans developed to fruitition.

That was it. I was hooked. For three weeks I found ways to get invited to my friend’s place. With each play, completing yet another mission, edging closer to the promised control of total domination. Eventually, I took control of the Death Hand; I imagined my enemy commanders weeping uncontrollably, their subordinates looking as each other awkwardly as I dropped missile after beautiful, long range missile on top of their bases. Victory, as it were, was mine.

I ended up finishing Dune 2 about seven times overall, but it did nothing but whet my appetite for more. The release of Command and Conquer forced me to move my new obsession into hiding, as my parents were not fans of violent games. My dad’s old Pentium 75 relished the task of outputting glorious pixel death, and behind closed doors, I took control of the GDI and was again transported into the realm of glory.

Words could not describe the immense feeling of power I felt controlling such enormous armies. For at my very whim, a soldier would gladly undertake what could only be described as a suicide mission, without complaint or restitution. Finding sneaky, subversive routes through impenetrable defenses made my adrenaline rates soar, thus forcing myself to not cry literally out in joy as my tanks rolled to success. For if my father found out about my dirty fixation, it would be likely that Red Alert would not find its place onto my hard drive.

Over the next few weeks, months and years, I found myself up till the wee hours of the morning, my eyes almost baked open by stimulants like No Doz and Jolt Cola. “Just one more mission,” I would tell myself after coffee cups staining the half-hearted attempts at schoolwork that littered my desk. I would day dream about German Shephards and razor wire, constantly thinking of new and exciting ways to tank rush. I couldn’t get enough.

But the worst was yet to come. Because I was only being fed the average gear, the rough stuff, cut with basic tactical advantages and spliced with similarity between factions. As I settled into an existence littered with moments of social occasion in between sessions of Warcraft 2 and Total Anniliation, I began to feel numb. I had begun to grow a resistance to the dripfed excitement that had begun all those years ago. I needed something stronger; I now craved exuberance, euphoria, and that blind sense of cannibalistic power.

I didn’t need to wait long for that fix. Starcraft found its way into my veins on the 31st of March, 1998, beginning the first and only love story I’ve ever had with a piece of software. If you can call relentless devotion “Love,” that is, since I spent the next year with my fingers on the hotkeys climbing up the Australian Bnet ladders. My addiction had left the alleyway and entered the crackden; I now had fellow junkies to share my electronic air with. Only this time, I did the unconscionable: I passed on the terrible affliction to my best friend.

It started innocently. Back then, access to the internet wasn’t cheap, nor fast, and it was charged by the hour. Yes, hour. Unfortunately for us, Battle.net was on that same internet. For a period, both of us would sit on Bnet for hours at a time, raising the ire of our fathers, furious at the three figure bills from the ISP. But we were hooked, thanks to Pegasus and Blizzard teaming up to serve us a virtual rock of silky crack. Banned from the web, we needed a solution quickly.

Lucky for us, Starcraft allowed for direct connection. At the price of a local call, we would dial into the others’ PC and the matches would begin. In a sense, we had scored. Hour apon hour each afternoon, night and weekend, we would fight. 1v1, 2v6(AI). We would download new maps on our pittance of allowed net time, and continue playing. Before long, we had divised 2v2 strategies so fullproof, that the odd times we could get back on Bnet, we would dominate. This was life.

But, like every addiction, a toll must be taken; my body and mind could accept no more abuse. I banned myself from the PC, forcing myself to branch out and move on. Gaming could not supply me with life’s bounty; I needed a job, a girlfriend, a life. My brain could no longer stand the sight of a terran marine, nor a zerg hydralisk. It rebelled. I quit.

Years rolled by and time moved on. I would occasionally pull up the odd skirmish of Red Alert 2, but it was only playfully. Dancing with the idea of taking up the habit again, I could feel a part of me that was empty that longed for the sweet, seductive embrace of a night long session. I resisted, until 2003. Everything changed in 2003. Westwood had decided to release a new product into the market. It was flawed… but different. It felt… familar. Generals.

I had managed to last three years; I was free of the scourge that had taken over my life. But now that the internet is cheap, I lived out of home, and my roommate was a fellow junkie; everything fell into place like the perfect storm. My bedroom once again became a den with cigarette smoke swirling around my head as I carefully planned bombing runs and commando sabotage. The window between our rooms shared the cool mix of winter air and carbon monoxide along with our exclamations of joy and horror.

I never really recovered from that relapse. Learning to control my addiction became easier than trying to avoid it. Over the years, new elements entered my life and pushed the boundaries of how I dealt with my vice. Supreme Commander, Rise of Nations, and Sins of A Solar Empire all contained their initial challenges, but in the end, I felt I was always the one on top.

In the end, I admit it. I am an RTS addict. I will always be in the iron grip of these tools that provide me with that element of micro-managing control I crave. But it’s important to know when you have a problem. So the question stands; are you an addict?

Retro Ad of the Week: Creepy Intellivision

Simon Jones — Thu, 31 Dec 2009 20:59:39 +0000

[Every Thursday is Retro Day at Gamer Limit, so kick back and enjoy the classics. Feel free to check out our full schedule right here!]

Bringing awkwardness to another level is this week’s Retro Ad. Who would have thought that combining the annoying kid from E.T. with your friendly local pervert could produce such an uncomfortable 30 seconds?

Hit the jump to see how Intellivision marketers dropped the ball on this one.

That shifty smirk at 0:18 will haunt my dreams forever.

Don’t take that copy of Lock ‘n’ Chase, Elliot! It’s not a game!

Modern Warfare 2: Mythbusters

Ashley King — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 03:41:10 +0000

It seems like every day there are more and more glitches popping up in popular games with outcries of, “Screenshot or it didn’t happen!” and other such cries for proof. The Defend The House Clan, or DTHClan for short, is stepping up to the plate with a series of videos surrounding popular “myths” in the latest addition to the Call of Duty family.

The video explores such things as knifing mirrors in the barber shop and exploding planes with the Predator missile from the game. Some of them are quite outlandish, while others are easy to believe and can finally put the rest the cries of, “That’s not true, because it didn’t happen to me.”

DTHClan is seeking active contributions from the gaming community, so if you have a myth you’d like explored in either Modern Warfare 2 or Halo 3, then feel free to submit the details on their forums at their main website, defendthehouse.com. Here’s to hoping these guys explore more than just Modern Warfare 2 and Halo 3 myths, as there are tons of myths which surround popular games like Counter-Strike: Source and Team Fortress 2.

Learn To Speak PR in 5 Easy Steps

Sean Carey — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 15:15:23 +0000

Have you ever wanted to learn another language, but just couldn’t find the time? Always wanted to explore the exotic culture of gaming industry marketers and executives, but held off because you couldn’t master the native tongue? Well, wait no longer, friends!

With our patented (in the Czech Republic) system, you’ll be speaking confidently about maximizing shareholder value in no time. This comprehensive program covers multiple PR dialects, such as CorporateSpeak, Legalese, and even Euphemisms! Still not convinced?

After the break, we’ll give you a short but tantalizing taste of what our course has to offer — FOR FREE!

The structure of the gaming PR language is very similar to that of the modern English that most of us are already familiar with. Sentence structure, subject/verb relationships, and other foundational syntax is identical to what you already commonly speak and read.

The key to understanding PR lies in the change in meaning of certain words and phrases — this means that if you can master the vocabulary, you can master the language!

To get you started on your path to learning, here are 20 commonly heard PR phrases and their translations. Study them closely, and you’ll be well on your way to corporate gaming fluency!

“iterative design process”: “We screwed it up the first 5 times.”

“focused narrative structure”: rail shooter

“spiritual successor”: out of ideas; just like the last one but with improved graphics

“simple but addictive gameplay”: “We have achievements! … which require you to do the same thing 50,000 times.”

“stark, realistic tone”: grey and brown

“intuitive control scheme”: the game is playable

“80+ hours of enjoyment!”: final boss has 37 forms, or requires excessive grinding (see : simple but addictive gameplay)

“gripping story and character development”: game is 75% cutscenes

“scaling difficulty curve”: enemies have more hit points

“priced at optimal market value”: highway robbery

“maximizing the IP’s potential”: sequels every 3 months

“innovative peripheral interface”: more plastic crap for your living room

“tradition of risk-taking and innovation”: “Remember that one new IP we launched 5 years ago?”

“promoting user-created content”: full of hacks and exploits

“collector’s edition”: 3 pg. comic book available for $30

“exciting new gunplay mechanics”: Bullet Time. AGAIN.

“extended value and replayability”: multiplayer added 3 weeks before release, or inconsequential moral choices

“in response to player concerns”: “Hey, look guys! It’s another petition! BWAhahahahahaa!!!!1!!1!”

“widening the gamer demographic”: cooking mini-games

“mature story and presentation”: boobies!!

We’ve packed “100+ hrs. of instruction” into this “groundbreaking, engaging, and immersive” language program — offered at the low, low cost of “what the current marketplace conditions will bear”! Don’t delay, pre-order yours TODAY!