Gaming often puts one in the situation where the bowel weakens and the jaw tightens. Furthermore, every gamer has had that one experience where a particularly unpleasant game makes you completely 'bust' your pants.
Consider yourself now in possession of a mounted, solid gold pair of Y-fronts - the Nasty Pants award. You can give it to one game and one game only based on its ability to fill underwear faster than a diet of Bran Flakes and Bombadier Bitter. Moreover I hereby promise that, in the event of one game being the outright winner, I'll write to the developers responsible and demand a refund for the appropriate volume of garbaged bloomers.
For my part, I hereby give the Nasty Pants award to:
Alien vs Predator (PC)
If ever there was a game where you wanted to rewrite the code and give yourself a different objective it was this one. The idea of trooping into the very situation that made the movie Aliens so bleak and terrifying is one thing; doing it in first person with a torch, a rifle, chocolate teapot and a motion tracker is another. In the Marine mission, at least, every corner and door is of the 'please Mommy, hold my hand' variety, while 90 percent of the scares are generated by your own paranoia and the delibrate cues of the environment. Unfortunately, that leaves another 10 percent to be filled by menstruating aliens that come hurtling along the walls and ceilings or out of the floor, wanting nothing more than to either prick your arse or suck on your face.
Truly the most awful test of a man's guts the video game industry has produced, though admittedly that's pending the release of 'Night On The Tiles In Cardiff Simulator' by Codemasters.
*shudders*
Incidentally, you'd have thought the option of playing as an alien would offer a kind of malicious catharsis to the marine experience. Tragically, however, as an alien you're more likely to run around like Stevie-****ing-Wonder than leap viciously onto your prey; the omni-directional controls are about as efficient as playing with a grocery bag on your head. Rest assured, by the time you've got your bearings and struck an suitably alien-like pose, the marines have polished their weapons, made the tea and biscuits and blown your xenomorphic nuts off.
Consider yourself now in possession of a mounted, solid gold pair of Y-fronts - the Nasty Pants award. You can give it to one game and one game only based on its ability to fill underwear faster than a diet of Bran Flakes and Bombadier Bitter. Moreover I hereby promise that, in the event of one game being the outright winner, I'll write to the developers responsible and demand a refund for the appropriate volume of garbaged bloomers.
For my part, I hereby give the Nasty Pants award to:
Alien vs Predator (PC)
If ever there was a game where you wanted to rewrite the code and give yourself a different objective it was this one. The idea of trooping into the very situation that made the movie Aliens so bleak and terrifying is one thing; doing it in first person with a torch, a rifle, chocolate teapot and a motion tracker is another. In the Marine mission, at least, every corner and door is of the 'please Mommy, hold my hand' variety, while 90 percent of the scares are generated by your own paranoia and the delibrate cues of the environment. Unfortunately, that leaves another 10 percent to be filled by menstruating aliens that come hurtling along the walls and ceilings or out of the floor, wanting nothing more than to either prick your arse or suck on your face.
Truly the most awful test of a man's guts the video game industry has produced, though admittedly that's pending the release of 'Night On The Tiles In Cardiff Simulator' by Codemasters.
*shudders*
Incidentally, you'd have thought the option of playing as an alien would offer a kind of malicious catharsis to the marine experience. Tragically, however, as an alien you're more likely to run around like Stevie-****ing-Wonder than leap viciously onto your prey; the omni-directional controls are about as efficient as playing with a grocery bag on your head. Rest assured, by the time you've got your bearings and struck an suitably alien-like pose, the marines have polished their weapons, made the tea and biscuits and blown your xenomorphic nuts off.
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