chris-littlechild - November 9, 2012
Find a clothes peg for your nose and a cork for your rectum, gentlemen. There's every shade of shit you can fathom right here. Beyond that, though, today's installment is a salutation to the games that commit to lofty levels of nut-numbing awful. Merely sucking King Kong's five-foot phallus will not suffice. These guys have devoted their existence to strenuous running across beaches in slow-motion training regimes (as rousing rock encouragement thunders in their beleaguered ears at several trillion decibels. Presumably, Joe Esposito's You're the Best is on repeat for the full half-hour it takes the guy to traverse a couple of yards) to achieve the very pinnacle of dire. For that, we salute them.
Superman 64 (subtitled The New Adventures or Not this Festering Heap of Rats' Bollocks Again!) reprises its prestigious role from our recent ode to ball-achingly bad superhero games. Primarily so we can dub it, in New York, New York fashion, the game so shitty, we mocked it twice. Also above, behold the wonderment of typing simplistic phrases to KILL ZOMBIES IN THE FACE.
What other godawful confections from the depths of Satan's ballsack make an appearance? Hit the gallery.
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