I want to make a lot of witty comments about the possibility that BioShock Infinite DLC may feature a new companion character. However, two problems arise. First, I’m not really witty. Second, anything I can come up with is quasi-spoilerish and I ain’t going that route.
Without question, Bioshock Infinite has proven itself as incredibly troubling to the novice reviewer (played by myself). It’s not that the game is overwhelmingly challenging, or so perfect that I find it difficult to find fault and give a balanced account, but more that every element has been considered and given such attention: making just about everything worthy of mentioning. It’s an overwhelming game to process, but I’m going to try for you, though, because I fucking adore you. Seriously, you don’t even know.
To smash the face of your enemies is the most grand of human experiences. To drink their blood from the crystal chalice of your superiority is to achieve the pinnacle of Darwinian success. It is with this irrefutable notion in mind that I postulate the following: every fucking video game should have New Game+. Every digi-polygon experience should allow those of us who have rose up through the darkness of a Level 1, Devoid of Equipment birth to return to those who felled us at the beginning of our journey with fury. We deserve to smash their teeth with our litany of new abilities. We deserve it, god fucking dammit. We earned it.
Remember how last week I was all excited for life? This week is the glorious inversion of such a feeling. A viscous ladling of ennui is rattling around my belly, daring me to frown. There isn’t so much a reason for me to be sad, rather I’m just like “oh hey, I exist.” Eh, what can you do. Some weeks are more thrilling than others. So I turn to you, dare readers, in this newest of Monday Morning Commutes. Tell me what you’re enjoying this week. Inspire me. I beseech thee. And thee. And thee.
Hit the jump for my tepid chocies for the next seven days.
Sup fuckers. Don your war crest. Paint your face with the blood of those who have fallen before you staves, swords, axes. This is getting real. The following week is filled with enough revelry to burst my little heart. Were I a coward. But I am not such thing. My arteries are thickened from excessive, caffeine-fueled pumping. The next seven days are a gauntlet of awesome that justify this meager little column. Nay, these seven days justify my generally effusive demeanor. This is MONDAY MORNING COMMUTE, the column where we pontificate on the various little objects filling our hurt-holes. The arts, farts, funny books, and video games we are using as a salve to soothe the general burn of existence.
It’s eerie to waltz around a world I’ve seen in trailers on and off since 2011. Eerie and awe-inspiring. Columbia is another City 17; avid gamers will hopefully feel happy to hear me draw the comparison.
There’s been so much said about the game, both from two years’ worth of previews and advance (groan) exclusive reviews over the past week. I won’t waste your time with fluff; here are some (spoiler-free) thoughts from my five-hour foray into Columbia so far.
Remember when everyone was freaking out about how generic BioShock Infinite’s cover was? And Levine was all, “chill out. We need to do it”? And then they offered a vote for a reversible cover? Here are some pictures of the end product. In Japanese. Hey, don’t get choosy on me now.
Mine eyes cannot comprehend the beauty of this BioShock Infinite trailer. In less than six days, I’ll be running around all vigorous, skyhooking myself to shit and pew-pewing like a mofuckah. The Faux Bot will be doing the same thing, and we will do it together courtesy of Skype. Two dudes, no shirts, pictures of Ken Levine covered in fluid.
Folks, BioShock Infinite has almost arrived. The game that I have been sweating only second to HL: Episode III in ferocity. Yes. Yes, yes, yes.