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Bluesky

Andore Jr.

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At this junction, you have a choice: Am I living in a horrible world of self-delusion and have been playing this game advertised as “Meet pretty girls! Then rape them!” for the exciting gameplay? Or am I a worthless, disgusting human being who gets his rocks off on the pain of others? With Bikou 2, the only way to win is not to play! Choosing to be a good guy results in ten fucking minutes of insipid chatter before you get to the humping. Yes, despite the fact that it's well within your avatar's psychological profile to whip out his dick and stuff it in her mouth to shut her up, he lets her talk. And talk. And talk. It doesn't help that I can't understand a thing that's happening, but I suppose this is “fleshing out” the paper thin stereotype and endearing her to me. Yes, their idea of endearment is making us wait for sex. Granted, this is apparently the basis of all human relationships, but I'm not playing this because I want to go out, have coffee, and catch a movie with these attractively proportioned clusters of polygons. I want some sexy applied vector math right now!

Fuck this, I might as well just load up my savestate and cement myself in your hearts and minds as the most horrible person in history.

And so, it's time to ride that little bronco. And... It's nothing special. We start by getting warmed up with some still images. Okay, what the god-damned son of Revenge Joe's brother is this? You build a reasonably functional engine and use it to power Metal Gear Malaise: Sons of Pathos here for some motherfucking prerendered stills? Although the renderings are a good deal less inept than, say, someone's superheroine Poser erotica page, it's like buying a Porsche and using it to drive to the store. Okay, actually that's not a very good analogy. It's more like a Lada than a Porsche, but my point is that if you've got the power to awkwardly slap two poorly constructed 3D models together, so just fucking get to it!

And it looks like my prayers were answered. And... There's something wrong here, and I can't place my finger on it, or in it, or up somewhere it shouldn't be. Sure, it's miserably inept, that's a given. Without clothes, the models get that familiar feeling of “Maybe they should have held off for a hardware generation” or perhaps “Maybe they should have held off forever because they aren't all that good at this.” Obvious seams and polygon clipping problems get me so hot and ready for some serious strokage. In any case, here it is. The feature presentation. The reason we bought, or perhaps purloined this game from a shady paysite with a a hacked password (But I wouldn't condone such clearly copyright infringing acts. Support the companies that bring us quality sexually misanthropic video games!). That reason is glaring into the reflection of my black soul on my computer monitor, and also the girl infinitely looping a particular sexual act and occasionally taking a mosaiced dick through her jaw. Yeah, you can make that out right behind that black soul thing there. So, we have all the palpable sexual energy of a porno banner ad, expecting giant, flashing red-and-blue fonts inviting us to “CUM ON HOT TEEN TWAT”. And the “gameplay”. You can, uh, rotate the camera. You can change the positions and turn the background on and off... Oh, and you can turn the looped wailings on and off if the death rattle of your conscience gets a little too disquieting. Boy, this is fun. But that's not the red light in my head that's going off right now.

The mosaics. Now, I could go into a long spiel about the origins of the inscrutable practice of censoring the naughty bits while allowing the actual subject matter to be bafflingly immoral, but I can't. Why? Because there's absolutely no reason the mosaics should be there. You see, it is obvious that there is nothing under the mosaics. Censorship is supposed to actually go over something that needs to be censored for some reason or another - but this censorship is just over some genital void. A handcuffed girl miserably slurping on air despite her protests? The protagonist eagerly ramming his absolutely nothing into her gaping pelvic crater? What does this all mean?

...This game is a fucking fraud, folks. It's a Cinemax soft porn where the guy's dick is taped to his leg. Granted, finding that it's about as sexually stimulating as a late-era Shannon Tweed flick is certainly good for the little voice in my head that tells me that this shit just ain't right, but on the other hand I thought I would be reviewing The Most Offensive Game Ever! The game that's “Too Hot for the USA” according to the developer's anti-export policies! The game that will so cloud Joe Leiberman's already imperceptable common sense that he'll just give up and vote to ban EVERYTHING!

But alas, it's just a turd of a game with some unpleasant scenes of people ramming their nothings into nothings and all the sex appeal of Tomb Raider with a nude patch. It's offensive, but so inept that you can't bring yourself to even care. It's like a Marilyn Manson album - sure, it has all the trappings of someone out to implant EVIL and SATAN into your childrens' brains, but they'll be so bored of the asshole in six months that they'll be tearing down their posters for you. Yeah, beneath all the HORRID, VIOLENT AND PRURIENT CONTENT is a layer of such laughable awfulness that it ceases to be offensive and just becomes a fucking joke. A shameful, questionably legal joke, and not really a “ha ha” joke but more of a “Weep Weep I'm Martin Lawrence dressing up like a fat woman again shoot my face already” joke, but I digress.

It's still a quick trip to hell, but only to the circle where you're stuck playing Skunny Kart until the heat death of the universe. To be honest, I can't think of anything worse.