Monday, 18 January 2010

How far does the rabbit hole go?

A wise French philosopher/cultural theorist named Jean Baudrillard once made the bold claim that everything in our world is a copy of a copy. An imitation. A fraud. A simulation. Or so I'm told.

With this scent lingering in the vast snow globe that is my pink, spongy brain, I sat down to play my first game of 2010, Darksiders. As titles go, "Darksiders" does very little to actually inform my spry mind of what it is about to experience in the next few hours and does it's best to feel riddled with cliche and juvenility. After all, this is a videogame. With a quick shake of the head I cast aside all aspersions with the best interest of enjoying the game, only to realise that the title was merely a fullstop on the game's inky web of clichedness.

The main character for instance; his name is "War". Who the fuck calls their child "War"? Oh yes that's right, he's one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. My mistake. Jesus.

Moving on, I'm hit smack on the bridge of my nose by deja vu. The game's combat reeks of "Devil May Cry", so much so I must relentlessly apologise to each person unwittingly hit by the stench emitting from my TV. And heck, the apocalypse has happened, now the streets are littered with 3D renders of a 13 year old's sketchbook, ready for me to wage "War" against I presume.

Placing aside the completely unoriginal combat I force myself upon the rest the game has to offer. And boy would it make Baudrillard feel good. Dungeons are identical to Zelda. I presume that once Link reached puberty, he realised the green tunic was a bad look, grabbed some armour (and a cape) to reinstate his masculinity and applied for the apocalyptic horseman job. Superb. Next time he rescues Zelda he wants a fucking blow job.

I could continue with this pessimistic description of what is overall a solid game, but I feel you get the point. The game is cliched, completely unoriginal, blatantly derivative, and yet surprisingly enjoyable, unless you've devoted your life to disproving the works of Jean Baudrillard. In which case you're a tool.

Buy it, play it, but don't be surprised when you see a pair of black cats.

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