An Ode to PlayStation 4: Sony’s Next Generation Jackboot to Gamer Hearts, Minds, Wallets and Gonads Everywhere

Everyone in the gamingsphere, we'd wager, has ventured into some footage of Sony's wiener-waving PlayStation 4 conference by now. Wednesday afternoon in New York, the much-ballyhooed ‘PS4' deigned to make an appearance (of sorts, in a "Here's several shades of holy shit marvel-o-footage! What? You want to see the actual goddamn console itself? What is this madness? Nuts to that" sort of way), squashing some of the increasingly-preposterous rumor mongering pertaining to the device into a squelching, blood-bleeding mess of lie-blood on the shagpile carpet.

This thing won't do your taxes, wash your poodle's anus as you scratch your nuts indolently on the couch or have the graphical capacity to surpass ACTUAL REALITY (thereby sucking us all into a Twilight Zone-esque parallel world of horizontal rain and our own disconcertingly attractive and youthful mothers). Nor, it transpires, will it have a moniker any more inspiring than the rather spartan ‘PlayStation 4.' What is being propelled directly into our eyes, ears and other bodily orifices here, is a little insight into just what Next Generation may mean in video games.

The Wii U, with its Usain Bolt-aping haste to suckle the sweet, sweet money-teats of the world before its competitors got their shit together, has been beset by disdain, mockery and flaming sacks of excrement left on the doorstep of Nintendo's HQ. Why, prithee? Because, the naysayers and internet nerdassins proclaim, it is not 'next generation' at all. 'Neath the lid is a finally-HD-enabled steely heart with similar capacities to the Xbox 360 and PS3, which are both a nigh-decade old (shriveled, tits-drooping-on-the-floor-like-a-Neanderthal's-knuckles pensioners with bladder problems in video game years). As such, Wii U has thus far not succeeded in replicating the meteoric rise that its predecessor enjoyed. The 'meteor' in this instance is being laboriously heaved by a wheelbarrow -sans wheel- across a badly-cultivated field somewhere in Iraq, by an elderly hobo with no legs.

Incidentally, though, Nintendo's tablet-tastic new controller is quite a wonder ergonomically, and allows an array of local co-op chicanery if you can withstand that tooth-enamel-eroding primary coloured cartoon-acy that is the company's penchant. But a little harmless piss-takery never hurt anyone.

The pertinent point, nonetheless, is that (allegedly) for balls-out gaming that is old enough to drive/drink/has hair on its nethers, family friendly frolics are not the way. As such, it is Sony and Microsoft's latest ventures that herald the next stage of gaming. Bill Gates is otherwise occupied being massaged by supermodels and wiping his ass with dollar bills, so PlayStation 4 got there first.

And what a proposition it is. While the technological advancement is made plain by the footage of Watch Dogs, Killzone: Shadow Fall and Destiny we brought you Wednesday (check them out, you'll shit), there's a greater paradigm shift than glorious graphical prowess here.

Connectivity is the new favorite word of Sony's suit-wearing-hawkers-of-shit division. It's a notion that pervades the tedious, real-life world of 2013 for everybody, whether they've seen that thar Ecks Box before or not. Today, as you'll all attest, we can scarcely take a dump without some bastard taking a photograph, uploading it to Facebook and garnering it its own Twitter fanpage before it has even stopped steaming (well, we sure can't. Yesterday, a turd had accrued seventeen parody accounts and eight million friend requests before we'd even flushed. It was like being Justin Bieber, without the phenomenal ability to be massively dickish). This notion is deftly paralleled by Watch Dogs, in which cell phones, security cameras and other electronic doohickeys can be tools of liberation and oppression simultaneously depending on the wielder.

The social aspect of gaming (not to be confused with Farmville or similar ballaches) is vital to PlayStation 4. With the 'share' button, we can entreat fellow players for tips, tricks and so forth in real time, and flit back to the game before our protagonist has had time to scratch their wonderfully-rendered crotch. When trophies are accrued or new games purchased by friends, your console will keep you informed, like having a Facebook feed that is actually interesting (if that asshole from high school that stole our clothes while we were in the showers after gym class before pointing and laughing at our shriveled wang isn't now morbidly obese,we give no shits!).

Stick with Egotastic! for everything you'll need to know about PlayStation 4. With an impending gaming behemoth of this caliber, you'll need to know it all.