Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle and Friends

I hate you, Bullwinkle.

I am taking a brief break from downloading pornography to review the SNES game “The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle and Friends.”

In the interest of full disclosure, it should be mentioned that I have a very poor attention span in general, and for video games in particular. Not giving games more than a second chance is the way I roll. One of the ways I roll. I have many ways in which I roll, most of which are too obscene to write about, even on the Internet.

I had to play “The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle and Friends” several times to write a review – next time I would rather be waterboarded. This game sucks. I will list some ways.

First, I hate Rocky and Bullwinkle. I watched the cartoon because it was on television and I was a child who watched a lot of television. I hate the jokes on the show, and their 4th wall breaking makes me want to murder an actual moose and squirrel, which I would then dress up like the titular characters to beat their dead bodies into a fine red paste with a hammer. Even as a dumb, easily-entertained child I expressed this opinion, which was a ticket to a series of psychological evaluations. Here’s a tip for you, kids: don’t talk about mutilating dead animals with a hammer! You will have to explain your feelings and drink a lot of calming teas.

Second, this game is insanely difficult. Maybe it’s the years of substance abuse, but I just can’t seem to get very far in this game without giving up in disgust when fucking Bullwinkle is crushed to death on top of an unforgiving mountain, Dudley Do-Right is struck and killed by a train, or Sherman is toasted by a stoned-looking dragon while Mr. Peabody looks on with his typical smug indifference. If Mr. Peabody was my dog I would have him neutered without anesthetic.

Third, this game somehow manages to be uglier than the hideous cartoon. How is this possible? I experience actual physical revulsion when I look at the game’s title screen; I grow short of breath and my hands claw at my eyes. I consider calling the paramedics – they would understand, right? One of them has been a paramedic for 20 years and he looks at me and says “My God, I thought the nightmare was over. Why would someone play this game again?” He runs a shaking hand over his weather-beaten face as he prepares to tell my loved ones that it’s too late.

Fourth, fuck this game. This is the game you give as a present to someone you don’t love.