I don’t know when it happened, I don’t know how it happened, but it happened: Someone fucked up the Link franchise. I honestly have no clue what went wrong. Link has always been good. Ever since the first two games for original Nintendo, which no one would have remembered if they hadn’t made A Link to the Past because they were just aimlessly wandering around in the world fighting random shit-easy enemies until you fought a big gold guy or some kind of ghost you couldn’t possibly beat, Link has always kicked ass. A Link to the Past? Great fucking game. Link’s Awakening? Harder than Zeus’s mighty iron penis, but cool as fuck. Ocarina of Time? Don’t cum in your pants now, cause Link in 3D! Majora’s Mask? Eh…kind of sucks, but the two Gameboy games that you could play different stories with were pretty awesome and released fairly soon after. Then, there was a pause. About a year and a half pause, and no Link games. I really wasn’t worried, to be honest. “Fuck,” I figured, “They took long enough to release Ocarina of Time, so they’re probably working on one kick-ass game.” Well, they were working on a game, but it was about as far from kick-ass as Liberals are from being reasonable and unbitchy. I give to you, The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker.
Jet Grind Radio: Zelda Mix is absolute shit. I’ll admit I was more than a little pissed off when Majora’s Mask was all about kid Link, when I was so happy to see the majority of Ocarina of Time responsibly ass-handled by adult Link, but that’s not what matters here. What a matters is that not only is Link a mere child in this travesty, he is about 5 years old. I don’t care what anyone says, I really don’t. No 5 year-old could kick my ass if I was wrapped in Christmas paper, had a 30-pound stud pierced through my nut sack, and was being attacked by an army of retards with those stupid foam bats for family therapy, I could own any 5 year-old six ways from Sunday, up the block, and around the world in thirty days. That’s how much ass I would kick. If 5 year-olds could do ANYTHING remotely close to a modest trifle of a red mark, perhaps even a bruise, the mafia would have kidnapped every 5 year-old puke faced brat in San Francisco and replaced cock-fights with brat fights. That’s how much 5 year-olds suck; they can’t beat up fucking chickens. Have you ever tried to fight a chicken? They run away even after you chop their heads off. They’re the biggest fucking cowards on the planet. Once I challenged the worlds’ strongest chicken to a staring contest, and his brain exploded out his little chicken holes/ears and he jumped into a wood chipper. Crazy fucking bastards, chickens.
The main character of the game isn’t even Link (although that’s not too bad because all he does is bitch about not having enough cookies, bitch), it’s a talking boat. I’ve heard of a lot of stupid ideas in my time, like a website where someone posts insanely long articles bitching aimlessly about something that pisses him off, but a talking boat just takes the proverbial cake. Boats don’t talk. It’s a fact. If boats could talk, someone would have saved the Titanic a lot sooner because it would have been yelling, “OMFG A FUCKING ICEBERG WTF HOLY SHIT THIS FUCKING HURTS OWCH” for two hours where someone would have shown up to tell the huge colossus of a hull to shut the hell up. The Wind Waker boat (named King or something stupid like that, not something cool like the S.S. Vagina Laser), also has a face and looks like a really shitty dragon. Like a dragon that they kicked out of Japan because there’s a limit on how much you can suck ass, and he was just over the top. I’m sorry, but we’re letting you go.
But that’s not the only thing that worries me about Link. Oh no. Those bastards at Nintendo are attacking on two levels. A) Stupid, shitty, awful games and B) cockrocket advertising. Nintendo has two forms of advertising, the first being like the bullet, and the second being like the gunpowder that launches the bullet at such a high speed so it shatters your skull and blows your brains all over the wall like jamberry, jamberry, jamberry jam. The supposed bullet are any T.V., magazine, or any mass media advertisement. But there’s a wicked layer beneath the calm surface. That wicked, swampy, succulent evil is none other than shitty t-shirts. Observe:
Don’t make me go Zelda on you. I realize your rage at this horrid evil destructive force on the brain, so I’ve arranged to calm you down because I don’t want you to die before you finish my fabulous article on my googolplex website I did a tits job with. Man, I’m great.
There we go. After the soothing image of Jamberry Bear kicking all sorts of ass all over America, we can go on here safely. Let’s evaluate this shirt on two distinct levels: being fucking stupid, and on not making any sense. Of course, I’ll start with the being fucking stupid, since this form of analysis is less interesting and therefore saving the better part last for the reader. I’m pretty slick, eh? I’m a great fucking author. I kick so many asses. I will attack this with an image analysis, so not to confuse any morons reading this.
Ah, there you see? This shirt sucks. Anyone wearing it should be shot. There’s a good chance if you shot mercury-tipped explosive syringes into my eyeballs, I would probably fair a good chance of cutting them in two with a schimitar before they could say “Look at my awesome shirt which represents a game which I have a lot respect for and think is awesome despite the fact that I never played it for Nintendo, but I’ll lie and say I did anyway because I don’t want to look like a complete choad licker.” I’ll admit it, I didn’t play the original two Link games for Nintendo until I was old enough to realize that walking in circles around my driveway thinking about making cyborg mafia movies is a much better waste of time, but at least I’ve got the nuts to admit it. I bet not half the people who wear these shirts have actually played the game, and I bet most of those who have didn’t play them until they were old enough to play it for the sheer purpose of feeling cool when in reality they’re about as cool as people who pretend to get drunk at parties. Fucking losers.
Now that we’re done with that boring analysis, let’s move on to something a bit more entertaining, hey fellows! We’re not all Harvard scholars who like to check their cock heads dancing about screaming something about their fancy degrees as hot liquid cum pierces deep into their esophagus! But seriously, I’m serious. Read the shirt. Now read it again. Wait! Don’t hurt yourself. Have some ice tea, take a hot bath, and read a good book. Okay, now read it again. Slowly, though. Don’t strain yourself. One letter at a time. Now, what about this shirt throws you? Careful! Think…ease…and you’ll plainly see that this shirt DOESN’T MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE. That’s right, it doesn’t. Not a goddamn lick of sense. Wait, you say, I just don’t get it? No, no, good sir, it is you who chews a soft, delicate, yet wholesome diarrhea slathered chunk of hyena shit. Don’t make me go Zelda on you? Oh, no! I shall scream like a thousand little girls and hide under a thousand of the most comfy beds, as I gallantly burst through fields of gold trying to escape your wrath!
Or, because you’re ZELDA, I’ll drug your royal fancy ass wine and date rape your bitch-face. No, I’m afraid of Link, not Zelda. Zelda is a princess. She doesn’t do anything. She has the Triforce of Wisdom, if any of you know this, not Power or Courage. I forgot to mention something, the one thing that 5 year-olds CAN beat the living shit out of are women. Women suck. They can’t do anything. If you forget about every Amazon tribe and women who are so muscular and disgusting I think you can rank them in with men anyway since they have about twice my testosterone from eating horse balls everyday for seven years, I could beat every single woman on earth at once in any kind of athletic event besides swimming really long distances because they’re wrapped in fat. That’s right, you’re fat. You fat, fat bitch. FAT! GO KILL YOURSELF BECAUSE NO ONE LOVES YOUR FAT HIDEOUS BODY! Yeah, assholes.
Having established that the Wind Waker sucks and has officially ruined a good thing they had going, it’s time for this SUPER DOUBLE VIDEO GAME REVIEW to switch gears from First Gear to Second Jak and Daxter Sucks Balls.
I don’t know how many of you played Jak and Daxter: The Precursor Legacy, but it was a fine game. It was a damn fine game. It was a great addition to platforming everywhere, and helped pave the way for new adventure games on the PS2. I don’t know how many of you have played Jak II, but someone fucked up. Someone fucked up bad. Real bad. The game is dogshit. I’ve actually had more fun being forced down and having freezing walnuts shotgunned into my asshole than playing Jak II. Where to start? This game sucks, so I’ll start when I was first pissed off.
And here it is! I was reading a review for Jak II on Gamespot.com when I saw something that my eyes passed over without care, though now I see that was the folly that led to me playing this fiesta of flamboyantly homosexual colors, characters, and gameplay. The sentence was the following: Jak II combines its platforming roots with elements found in other popular genres. If the sentence had thrown out “combines,” “its,” and everything from “roots” to “popular,” and thrown in a few new words to form “Jak II is part of the platforming genre,” we would have been fine. Well, we’re FUBAR. Turbo Fubar. On ice.
I’m just going to say it, and I don’t care who the fuck wants to argue, but if you want to front, I’ll tear your fucking balls off: GTA III was fun for the first two weeks or twenty hours of gameplay, then it just got as monotonous as that Ben Stein asshole who goes on Comedy Central and auctions off a whopping $5000. Big deal. I make 5K everyday by stealing the nickels from hobos after their weekly visit to the dump to drop off cans. Fucking jackass. He got famous for saying “Bueller…Bueller…” in that dumb shit movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I can’t get famous by saying some asshole’s last name, why should some bastard who cops stolen hobo goods off as his own get to? What a fucking tool.
Getting back to the point, anyone who played GTA III for more than two weeks is a mother fucker who should be fucked by fucking fuckers all fucking night long until he’s fucked. Then they throw GTA: Vice City at me. Wow. I’m impressed. You added some motorcycles and a fucking beach. If I created a game everybody thought was way too good and created a “brand new” version of it by adding features that probably took about three minutes to create, I’d be rich because I just created Counter-Strike. Counter-Strike sucks, and anyone who wants to argue is probably relatively good at the game and in order for that to happen you have to spend so much time playing it that you’re automatically a shit-shank loser because all you do is worship other people who are better than you because Counter-Strike is so realistic omg and bitch about how people in Japanese anime look Japanese. Well, you’re wrong, fucker.
I’m sure you’re wondering where I’m going with this, but hold your fucking horses, bastard. I played Jak II, and was immediately disappointed with something very odd. The game was designed like GTA, played like GTA, and had ATTITUDE. There were missions, guns, and racing. Yee-fucking haw. Let me repeat that. Racing. RACING GAMES SUCK . There is nothing good about racing games. The whole prospect behind racing games is that driving cars fast is fun and awesome. But the problems with racing games are A) if you want to be badass in a car, do it yourself because you’re not fooling anyone with Grand Turismo, no matter how challenging it may seem to get the BLACK JAGUAR and B) racing games try to follow real physics, but why the fuck would I play a game where I am bound by the realm of reality? The whole prospect behind video games, nay, entertainment in general is to forget your boring, mundane, shitcake life through some fake bullshit. I don’t want to not be able to turn because I’m going to fast. I don’t want to worry about messing up my car. If when I went for a drive a giant glowing meter appeared in the air above me and no matter what the fuck I hit or did it would be okay as long as the meter didn’t turn red, I would. But I only have video games for now, and can’t become an evil maestro of cyberspace through VR. Yet. I don’t want to play a game where I practice what I just did to go to the location to rent it. If I wanted reality, I’d sell my soul and play the Sims and buy all the stupid fucking add-ons that are completely worthless. If I’m playing a video game, I want there to be a whole lot of shit, and I want it all to get ruined by my rocket launcher/flamethrower/nuclear weapon. But that’s not the half of Jak II.
Jak II’s racing controls suck. It’s like they added them in the last two minutes of production. Oh yeah, and they’re mandatory. I didn’t fucking rent Jak II because of my fond memories of the racing levels that weren’t there in the first one. If I rent GTA, I would expect to be racing, considering grand theft auto kind of has to involve cars in order to make any sense. And, whoopity fucking yee-haw, there’s skateboarding. I shit out my eyeballs and shoved my PS2 down the disposal when one of my missions was “Get 5000 points on the Hoverboard course!” Yeah, hoverboard. And once again, they did a shitty job ripping off Tony Hawk Pro Skater, yet another shitty game that doesn’t add anything in it’s sequels yet is loved all the more for it. I don’t know what happened to video gaming. It was pretty hard to screw up a new Mario game for Nintendo when at the most you could add throwing a radish or a raccoon suit with four years of advancement of technology. But now they can get away with giving Mario a fucking super soaker. A pal of mine who writes the bitchin comics on the GGNoRe site on my homepage (if you haven’t read them, go do it now, fucker) said to me, “Why the fuck do I want to play Mario’s vacation? I don’t give a shit what Mario does on vacation!” And it’s true. But they fucked up Mario 64’s sequel, the fucked up Jak and Daxter before it became anything good, and they fucked up Link by force feeding him the Jet Grind Radio cock of cell-shading. I’m going to go find the Yeti of the mountains to ease my anger. I hope he isn’t cell-shaded. E-mails go via roxorboxors@hotmail.com. Thanks, you’ve been a great audience, assholes.
~Willbo Baggins