The latest Zero Punctuation is online, and this time Ben tears into “The Witcher.” Normally I’d just link to the page, but it seems to be loading like ass, unlike the video. So here you go, sweet embedded goodness.
Also, if you are a 360 owner don’t forget to cash in on your free download of Undertow. You’ve got until Sunday.
Speaking of the 360, I spent a fair amount of time cruising around Paradise City in Burnout Paradise with Bongweasel last night. The game is occasionally fun, and ridiculously gorgeous, but it’s amazing how much they fucked up a good formula. This whole open-world scenario may be great in theory, but in practice it is incredibly tedious. After your first race loss leaves you halfway across the map from your original starting point, and you realize that you must now haul your mangled car all the way back there just to get another crack at it, you’ll curse the fuckwits who decided to implement this concept. And why are there no fucking laps anymore? If you’re not going to give me the option of restarting a race, you could at least use laps so that I wind up back where I started. I don’t know when “annoying the user” became a hip new game developer meme, but believe me guys, it needs to go the way of Uwe Boll’s financial backing, post haste.
And finally, there’s nothing like combining my lust for gaming and my lust for baked goods. Check out this ridiculously awesome Katamari cake, and these Mario and Pac-Man cupcakes. The latter two were baked by a lil’ Australian chick, and I’m very happy to say that she is not particularly attractive. Not that she’s ugly, but definitely not hot, and that is a Harry Knowles sized relief. That would just be too fucking much for me, a hot slice of pie baking me nerd-centric cake goods would just completely screw up my expectations for the female of the species. It’s kind of like how Bolt is always saying that the first girl who blew him was a fellatio champ, whereas every subsequent mouth has brought the tragic taste of disappointment. It’d be like that, but with enough weight to inspire crippling depression and eventual self-imposed celibacy.
Actually, that last line sounds like most nerds that I’ve met over the years.
