The Gamer Guy’s Alphabet: Y is for YEARS- The Origins of Our Favorite Franchises Make Us Feel Very Old Indeed

And, lo, we embark upon our penultimate perusal of our dudely dudes' gaming world. Today, gentlemen, you'll need to bring your zimmer frames, dentures, old bastards' incontinence diapers, blankets that smell of piss and inabilities to achieve erections without medical assistance.

The lofty visuals of the latest installments of Egotastic!'s favored franchises are wondrous to behold. In Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance, as exemplar, Raiden's leather-restricted junk has never been so well-defined (so we're told. Can't say we've looked. If a guy wants to indulge in some crotch-squeezing skinny jeans or bollock-bulge speedos, that's his business. Our eyes shall be averted).

Much like the fine form of modern women, though, it was an arduous journey toward these visions of perfection. If Charles Darwin's beardy ramblings are to be believed, the first ladyfolk were monkey-people before one of them sagely suggested, hold on, ladies. Our hairy asses aren't sexy at all. If we shaved it off -with the vast array of grooming paraphernalia that we won't have for several hundred thousand years- we'd have enough for a fine shagpile carpet for the cave floor.

Resident Evil, Halo, Grand Theft Auto and suchlike were also as attractive as a wolverine's wiener in their formative years, as the gallery will attest. Back through the cloying sands of time we go.