Sleeping Dogs Review

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it’s a treacherous ascent to the apex of ‘retroridge’, and if you’ll indulge my analytical side, i’ve noted the public’s burgeoning appetitefor the output of the past… seems directly proportionate to the vacuousness of contentin the present. i mean, you know we’re up to our nipples in the cultural sewage whena ho-hum, thoroughly forgettable decade like the ’90s is inducing nostalgic thrombosis!’blood dragon’ navigates that delicate tightrope with a triple-axel side-flip dismount andsticks the fuckin’ landing. then feeds you the finger for daring to doubt that it could.and yes, hereafter i will be referring to this game simply as ‘blood dragon’. and ifubisoft has a single cell of brain matter between their executive board, when they releasethe inevitable, full-length retail sequel

to this game, they’ll go the way of rambo,drop the ‘far cry’ prefix, and slap a chrome-plated ‘2’ immediately after it, because it shouldbe a statutory crime in all contiguous states for a game this good to have to lug aroundthe words ‘far’ and ‘cry’. blood dragon curb-checks far cry 3 and defiles the fucking remains.while the early promotional material for blood dragon had more than piqued my interest, ithink we all had the same niggling sense that it might be more of a gimmick-driven faceliftthan a proper game, and i could not be more glad to be full-on fuckin’ wrong.it’s the little things done so right that compound to weigh heavily in the game’s favor.the absence of a stamina meter while running, for example: given a casual glance, perhapsnot the most sky-smashing achievement in blood

dragon’s bounteous arsenal, but just plantyour posterior and ponder with me, for a nanosecond: rex power colt is a cyborg. while his abilityto essentially prefontaine the fuck up with impunity likely won’t tickle everyone in theirno-no zone, if the game made like ‘call of halo gears’ and saddled a cyborg protagonistwith a stamina meter while running… how lethal of a boner-killer would that be?! sure,the inadvertent side-effect is that you can effectively snap the game’s balance in twainby jim fixxin’ the fuck around in perpetuity, but in a game starring rex – fuckin’ – colt,wherein a missile-punching badass with a cybernetic eye he swiped from the terminator… and acybernetic arm that, for some bizarre reason, makes me want to tuuuurn up… the raaaaaa-di-o……using cyber-hearts to lure blood dragons

to a nondescript murderfortress for a gun-totingdaft punk concert between shuriken-fights… the phrase ‘game balance’ is aligned to theimmediate left of ‘give peace a chance’ on the greater cosmos of utterly meaninglessverbiage. but blood dragon gets the big things right,as well. the weapons are flashy, responsive, and seeing an omega force commando’s headerupt into a shower of turqoise gak after lining up the perfect headshot is twelve timesas satisfying as in any other shooter on the market. even if they committed the unpardonablesin of neutering the fuck out of the pistol from robocop. i mean, have you fuckers evenseen robocop? when i fire this gun, bitches behind me need to be reduced to a quiveringmass of shredded beef. that’s just fuckin’

physics.vanilla far cry 3’s soundtrack couldn’t have been any more behind-the-times without a fluxcapacitor and a delorian. what luck, then, that power glove’s throbbing, ’80s electrosoundtrack is as righteous as the dubstep orgy of far cry 3 is grating. just as the’proper’ series slipped to the aft of public taste, they inexplicably place their fingerdirectly on the pulse of an audience that is positively starving for something… absolutelyanything different, and they did so… by ploughing the pastures of the past. if theirony escapes you, my condolensces for the loss of your prefrontal cortex…. because, somewhere… the almighty demigod of dramatic irony that is philip k. dick islaughing himself back to death. between mouthfulls

of amphetamines.granted, if you can bolt down your fully engaged erection long enough to take note of them,the game isn’t without its faults. if its visual flair is firmly entrenched in the roaring’80s, sadly its gameplay can sometimes cling too fanatically to the present, with the onrails/chopper ride sequence at the outset being the most readily apparent example, albeitof a mercifully-brief duration. i mean, god damn it, blood dragon! all i want to do isengage in consensual intercourse in the missionary position with you, but every time i get balls-deep,you ice me the fuck down with a turret sequence from the cutting-room floor of halo – fuckin’- one! fortunately, after said sequence, the gamedemonstrates a healthy – and mutual – disdain

for modern game development tropes with aparody tutorial sequence during which i literally collapsed in laughter.heh heh. it’s funny ’cause it’s true. sadly, the aforementioned flaw is not alone.though it’s an admittedly-petty grievance, like a mole perched above the shapely upperlip of cindy crawford, the overall package being this… womb-rendingly attractive actsas a double-edged sword, by calling attention to defects that would otherwise be perfectlynegligible: with the game going one hundred miles outof its way to buck, parody and erect a middle digit in the direction of every trite, triple-atruism of the last 5, insufferable years… who exactly made the call to cast phil ‘everyblack man ever’ lamar for the 17 trillionth

consecutive time, and why isn’t this personin fucking traction? like steve blum, jennifer hale, and nolan north before you, i have hadit up to nine feet above my head with your vapid vocal cords. i loved the shit out ofyou on mad tv, mr. lamar, but your voicebox has a longer resumã© than tommy lee’s crank,and it’s twice as overexposed. have you considered turning down a job or 20? just think’ outloud, here. strangely enough, for all its unabashed, ’80sphallic flexing, its most direct gameplay parallel can be found in the 1990s. with themoody, retro soundscapes of power glove thundering in your eardrums as you stealthily massacrethe enemy at your leisure with enough bitchin’-ass ’80s firearms to preside over twelve consecutivealabama weddings, strangely enough the one

word that moonwalked through my hippocampusas i deprived the omega force of theirs… was motherfuckin’ goldeneye. or perhaps, moredirectly, the almighty perfect dark. high heresy, i know, but when you really breakit down, the comparisons are shockingly viable. with its stealth-or-assault approach, it’smulti-tiered level design, the variety and occasional goofiness of its arsenal, and theresponsiveness the player feels when wielding said arsenal… the last time a shooter buriedits cybernetic digits in my stryper underoos and, with a righteous rip, deprived me ofmy testes… was while playing goldeneye and perfect fuckin’ dark!well played, ubisoft montrã©al! that said, i have a perfectly honest query,and i expect you to treat it as seriously

as moviebob treats the nutritional pyramid.why does far cry 3 exist?! no. honest to lemmy.if you were planning to unleash an expansion that surpasses it in gameplay, in style, infunction, and in tone, not but five front-flippin’ months later… why in undulating balls notrelease this as the full retail game, and resign the third far cry to moldering in thesame roadside ditch that generated its soundtrack? i’d replay blood dragon fifty times beforei’d slip into the spray-tanned skin of ‘i-can’t-believe-it’s-not-nathan-drake’ so i can tromp through the jungle in searchof friedrich von fauxhawk and the rest of the personality posse!this game rocks hard enough to register on the fuckin’ richter scale. a game so steepedin ’80s machismo, the hair on your nuts will

grow hair on its nuts. and while it wearsits premise a little thin in places, the premise isn’t even the 900th item on the list of reasonsthis game fuckin’ dominates. if you’re even a casual fps fanboy… and you elect not togive it a roll in the hay… that’s certainly your prerogative. but don’t go pissing andmoaning when the only thing on offer from the genre going forward is a perpetual paradeof sepia-toned shooting gallery simulators. i’m razã¶rfist.god – fucking – speed!

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