Happy Memorial Day to ya’ll living within the Empire! As a child, most of my worldview was shaped by the World Wrestling Federation. And to be honest, I’m almost positive I’m better for it. And one thing I learned is that those who turn their back on their country are thick-jawed, dastardly pieces of shit. (Like Sgt. Slaughter.) Don’t be a Sgt. Slaughter. Give big ups to those who have served in a moment of fleeting, momentary clarity. And then go about your proper Imperial means of celebration. Charred animal flesh. Excessive drinking. Maybe a jingoistic, statistically inaccurate proclamation about Whatever You Really Like In America.
Every Sunday night we die, and every Friday evening we are born again. Those of us lucky enough to be afforded weekends. Those of us lucky enough to have a job. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Sometimes it can be a drag. Being a cog in Immortan Joe’s Extraction Machine. But sometimes it’s right to be like, “fuck, yo. I’m really glad to have a job that keeps the Aqua Cola running and the GasTown diesel powering the lights.” So with that quickly eroding gratitude, let’s open up the Weekend Open Bar.
Hey friends! Pull up a stool. Pound your beverage of choice. Be it monkey urine, which is empirically proven to make you stronger, and run faster. Like the Reebok Pumps of liquids. Or be it alcohol, which will make me more appealing, and less annoying in your eyes! Whatever you drink of choice, slam it down and then enter this column. Weekend Open Bar. Where we shoot the shit for the 48 hours that The Man lets us have to pretend we live fulfilling lives. Or, if you have to work, bitch in here about how the Weekend Grind is a condemnable offense in the Eyes of the Lords of Kobol.
It’s Friday! Friday! Friday! Which is probably less exciting to me. Being on semester break. Funny thing about weekends when you’re unemployed. They don’t quite mean so much, except you get to hang out with all your working friends. But none the less! Fun shall be had. By me. Food shall be consumed. By me. And I’m going to frequent this goddamn insane column, Weekend Open Bar.
Morning! Morning. Commute! Commute. Mondaye! Mondaye. The column where we share the various endeavors we’re looking forward to (or dreading if you need some catharsis) in a given week. Generally these endeavors are of the arts and farts variety, but if you’re looking forward to picking+eating your toenails frankly I’m with you sharing that too. Me? This week? Guardians of the Galaxy, Boston ComicCon, and more!
Let’s dance the dance eternal.
It’s no surprise that most of my favoured games this year are download-only: games free of the constraints of large publishing deals and the costs of physical media. I like those physical artifacts as much as the next self-respecting hoarder, but when it comes to gaming and the creativity that I’ve seen flourish within the digital marketplace, it seems all the more difficult to pine for the past. The future of gaming is increasingly digital, independent and passionate: a fact well-displayed by some of the better releases this year. As Bobby Kotick plots to overthrow Steam, kill Gabe Newell and eat his heart to gain his strength, let us celebrate the games of 2012.
It’s difficult to review Binary Domain without getting caught up in the history of third-person cover shooters and how they are typically defined by western developers. Just for you though, I’ll refrain. After all, why would you want to hear my ramblings over how lackluster Gears of War 3 was, or how Quantum Theory is one of the worst games ever spawned from Satan’s shitty asshole? All you need to know is that Binary Domain is one of the most surprisingly entertaining and rewarding games I’ve played in years.