It’s safe to say that ‘80s arcade shooter Duck Hunt hasn’t aged overly gracefully. The octogenarian great-grandfather of FPS games is rarely called by his relatives any more. The old guy is feeble, senile, and when they do occasionally visit, the stench of piss is overpowering. Duck Hunt now whiles away his days playing Checkers with the other old bastards, sprouting unsavoury foot-long grey hair from his ears, and engaging in bouts of incontinence. In short, the ancient innocuous wildfowl murder simulation is as archaic as they come.
It also features that hateful dog. Few characters in gaming have ever inspired such fury. It’s a vehemence so tangible, you could spread it on toast. (I’ve never seen Vehemence in the condiment aisle of the local supermarket, I’ll concede. Worth looking into, though.) Sometimes he’ll hold your bullet-ridden quarry aloft with a fantastically shit-eating grin that seems to say, Hell yeah! You got them right in the face! Duck stew tonight. None for you, gun-toting guy. They’re mine, bitch. I may need you to operate the stove and perform the finer tasks associated with food preparation, I suppose. But once that’s done, they’re mine, as I say. Try to take any, and I’ll chew your balls off. (It’s a remarkably eloquent grin, all in all, as I’m sure I’ve made clear.) Should you prove sucktacular at the game, Duck Hunt Dog will instead forego tact and simply stand there, laughing and pointing with all the malevolent gusto a hairy little three-inch-tall bastard can muster.
Either way, he’s an ass.
But enough nightmarish reminiscence. Here’s Crazy Duck Hunter, loosely based on the original assfest. It’s in three wondrous dimensions, and sans cretinous canine. Nonetheless, rest assured that it’s just as appalling as its predecessor. Satan must’ve been in an especially vindictive mood the day his pulled this from his asshole and thrust it upon us unfortunate mortals.
Twinno Software and Xing Interactive share the ‘credit’ for this crappy flash-type game. (Just so you’re informed as to which buildings to break into at night, take a dump in the wastebins, wipe your ass on the walls, and generally trash.) Presumably both companies performed some remarkably heinous acts in a past life, and being associated with this virtual ball-ache is their punishment. The 3d graphics of Crazy Duck Hunter are my first gripe, top of a list of issues as long as my penis (and I’m incredibly hung. We’re talking third leg territory). While it may seem to be lacking in the grotesque from the small screenshot, full screen it’s simply ungodly. Suffice it to say, a Baboon’s rectum is more aesthetically pleasing. During an attack of explosive diarrhoea. Special mention goes to what I trust is a rifle of some sort, pictured here. It more closely resembles a piece of driftwood with a nail wedged in the end. During my brief play period, I attempted to poke myself with that nail, in the hope that it was rusty and I would contract some horrific disease. A gradual, agonizing death, or Crazy Duck Hunter? It’s like Sophie’s Choice. You know, the remake, where she had a simple decision to make. (You have two choices. I either shoot you in the face, then shoot your hurting-bullet-face again, or you eat this cake. It’s chocolate, with those sprinkly bits you like.)
There’s a fair array of game modes on offer, in comparison to Nintendo’s original creation. All you need to know, however, is that they’re all equally balls. The survival-esque affair where you’re beset by the ferocious fowl had potential to be quasi-entertaining, but failed miserably. Whichever option you choose, it merely comes down to squinting myopically at the screen trying to make out your target amongst the horrifying pixel-mess. Have I sneezed on my monitor? On closer inspection, I think that’s supposed to be a duck.
Just for my own amusement, I’m going to provide the website on which I found Crazy Duck Hunter. You know, for easy access should the police require it for evidence.
The whole experience was so sucktacular, it left me yearning for Duck Hunt in its official, NES-flavoured variety. So bask in some nostalgia here. And remember the slogan: Duck Hunt: It Won’t Make Your Balls Shrivel With Disgust Quite as Much as Some of the Duck-Based Ripoffs. Accept No Imitations.
Article by Chris Littlechild
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