By Kevin Kauffmann on July 15, 2013 at 3:09pm
Look, as Deadpool, Mr. Wade Wilson himself, I’m no stranger to disappointments. My skin makes me look like a burn victim, all the girls want Wolverine for some reason, and I swear to god those chimichangas are avenging Montezuma or whatever. I swear I’ll stop eating them once they stop being delicious, but right now? Not the case.
But Come ON, High Moon! We had a *#%d@mned deal! [No we didn’t, Marvel signed us up for this. Did they intend for us to go to the lowest bidder?] Look, if you two would shut the hell up, I’ll get on with this. I swear, when we had the little yellow boxes, this really wasn't that complicated.
A game starring me had all kinds of things going for it. Swords? Check. Guns? Double check. Moral ambiguity in spades? I have no idea why a spade is a unit of measurement, but we’re going to say check. [You do realize Google is literally a mouse click away? Or BING! Microsoft, call me later. I’m sure you got my number somewhere.]
So I have to ask them, what the *&%$ happened?! I played this game for seven hours, and even I was sick of myself Am I really that annoying from the outside? Every other second I was ogling some sweater muffins or chasing the schoolgirl skirts of women who are way too old to dress that way. Trust me, I know I like the ladies, and none of them ever give me the time of day (except for Outlaw, Death, you know, the d-listers), but I don’t spend all of my time thinking about women with lovely digital curves (although God blessed Lara Croft and her polygons). I’ve saved the world twice, and I barely remember that first time. Hell, with my memory problems, I’ve probably saved it six or nine times, but the last episode of “Gilmore Girls” is taking up that space in my head.
[Hey, we liked that show.]
My point is, I’m not the guy they’re showing. Something in the last few years has turned me from someone with genuine emotions and feelings into a goddamned clown, and I’m sick of this. For a long ass time, I was trying to be a hero, still am from time to time, and what High Moon decided to do was give the option for players to force me to make a stink pickle. [Well, it kinda looks like a pickle. That doesn’t make it better.]
But really, when it comes down to it, High Moon had no reason to call it in like this. My game is a tedious hack and slash mixup with henchmen who really had no business coming against me. I’m a world-class assassin, and High Moon sets me up against waves of clones created by Mr. Sinister. As much as I like my man in the Crow makeup, it makes for a dull experience that is made only slightly better because of the VOICES in my HEAD, and I’m around them ALL THE TIME. [We try. No we don’t.]
No. You really don’t.
That’s the problem with this game. It’s a &*#$ing cashgrab that’s capitalizing on my newfound cult status. It doesn’t matter how much attention you’ve paid to me or if you’ve read “Cable & Deadpool”, “Deadpool”, or any of my other series; this a quick and dirty rehash of a hundred tired video game clichés, some of which don’t even work. Their solution to increasing the difficulty in the later stages? Flood the stage with more of the exact same enemy types, many of which can practically snipe you from across the room. I ended up having to use cheap, repetitive tactics just to get through the day.
If you don’t know me, I tend to get bored having to do the same ole’ $%*&.
Aside from a couple of set pieces [Love me some oversized boots!], including an entire section dealing with one of my old flames. [She looked good in the Dia De Los Muertos getup. Yeah she did!] There just really wasn’t much brought to the table. If you have a world-class assassin like me, *&$^in’ USE me. Throw me onto a rooftop and get me to snipe some asshole, throw me up against some symbiote dinosaurs or Hell, maybe let me pretend to be a hero. You know, really make it so there’s a reason to keep playing.
Except there isn’t one. I’m not too proud to say I didn’t laugh from time to time, but I was really expecting something a little more intelligent than “Duke Nukem Forever”. The only reason I kept playing was that I’m a narcissistic little so-and-so, and I’m the only one who can use that excuse because I’m the only Deadpool. [About that…] Shut up! I’m closing my monologue! [Can we have one?] No, and if you don’t stop asking, I’ll put a bullet in our head to teach you a lesson!
Where was I? Oh, yeah, closing up on my little speech. Screw it, I forgot where I was, so I’ll just repeat the high slash low points. [Like there ARE high points…]
There’s immaturity off the scales, gameplay is repetitive, it feels like a movie tie-in with little-to-no-story-worth-paying-attention-to-how-do-I-stop-these-hyphens, and none of the quick wit that you know me [and us] for. Turn off your brain, and you might like it.
It’s disappointing, because even if they just followed something from my long and illustrious career, we could have had something great. Hell, I wouldn’t have minded to catch up with Taskmaster again. I have NO idea what that guy is doing.
Buy this trainwreck if you want, but at least wait for it to come way down in price [Gamestop has games or something. You hack, who doesn’t use Steam these days?] But between you and me and me and me, you’re better off playing something WAY better.
D@mn it! I just realized that Wolverine has the better game, too! High Moon, you sack of SH--
