Ripten Review: Rogue Warrior In the Park
I present to you, readers of Ripten, an exclusive dramatic reading from the Shakespearean epic “Rogue Warrior: The Worst Game of the Last Decade.” In this particular piece, the soliloquy from Act IV, the narrator struggles with the realization that the game is linear, boring, incredibly short, full of more unnecessary vulgarities than Kane & Lynch, and features the worst AI on this side of… well, Kane & Lynch again. Without further ado, I give you the first installment of Crappy Games That Shouldn’t Have Been Made Theater.
Mickey Rourke. What respect thou gained from The Wrestler,
Thou hast dashed across the jagged salt kissed rocks.
What made thee decide to lend a voice to such a wreck?
Instead of plot or substance this warrior was lost from its start
In the torrent of vulgarities from Demo Dick’s maw.
Alas, if I was owed one half penny for each transgression
More wealthy I would be than the greatest king!
Still yet, horrid writing and dialog of lacking be
Not the worst of all insults towards thee humble gamer.
No, not a single errant thread of goodness exist
Here between these evil models and textures.
Affix a sign to GameStops that peddle this wicked ware
It shall read “Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Purchase This New or Used”
Barter not with this game, for thou are bartering your soul.
Like the gates of hades in the worst of nightmares,
Narrow, straight, unyielding from one horror to the next.
Thou will feel the soul yearn for excitement and salvation
But none will be found from wall to wall.
Oh how cruel that even ghosts of enemies so slow,
They could not find their way from port to aft with map and compass.
Too dull and dark are the simple brains behind those skulls,
Cursed to walk these hideous halls for eternity.
Doomed to repeat the moments of their lives predictably.
No challenge can be found here amongst the rocks.
Perhaps thou wish to avoid all notice of enemy specters?
A wise and noble man, thee sticks to shadows.
But even shadows, no matter darkness, lack meaning here.
Meaningless, strategic silence has no reason,
The creatures here are but shells of men who ask for death.
A lumbering Oxen would be beheld with not a second glance
And allowed to rummage through the kitchen at its will.
This title terrible, I challenge our beloved Bethesda to a duel
For each positive they find in this loose entertainment
I shall pierce my heart ten fold with this deadly dagger.
For each negative I find amongst this tragic title,
Bethesda shall take this dagger from my shaking hands
And cut themselves but once a place they choose.
I worry not for my life, and know the truth so easily.
A heart I would have intact, while Bethesda would thus bleed free.
For only one positive I beheld amongst this driftwood,
This experiment in folly does not hold thee long.
Its weak grasp release thee from its clutch
Less than two hours hence from where thou began.
We shall color ourselves lucky of this fact!
Not even if this blemish were available to the poorest serf
Shall any deem it worthy of its value.
Of things I would rather do than play this game
I have fashioned to thee, kind souls, a poem.
“Than play this game I would brave darkest tempests,
Or dream of death on pale night midsummer.
For a gaming experience can be full coital bliss
Yet this Rogue Warrior isn’t yet a hummer.”
