One of my greatest disappointments in life is that thanks to my tiny bone structure and girlish wrists, I will never attain the ridiculous size of Mike Haggar from the Final Fight series. 6’6 and 297 pounds. Walking around shirtless with stiff musclebound arms spread wide as if summoning bystanders into a crushing yet warm embrace, punching my way through closed yet unlocked doors and daring—DARING!—people to look askance at my sweet yet disturbing uni-suspender. An enviable life to begin with, but then you add to that the fact the man is mayor and capable of completely disregarding the very laws he is sworn to uphold, and you have the makings of a Sawyer-esque yarn of epic proportions. Also check out that sweet mustache, because DAMN.
It’s probably a little annoying when your daughter gets kidnapped so often, but what was she expecting going out dressed like that? A bulky and mayoral champion of the people doesn’t need to wear more than pants and accessories, but just because you’ve sprung from the glowing red loins of Mike “I’m motherfucking Mike Haggar” Haggar, it doesn’t mean that you get to do whatever he does! This goes double at least (once for each X chromosome) if you’re a woman and biologically incapable of making good decisions.
Thanks for the article suggestions, Conservative MLA Doug Elniski!
It wouldn’t surprise me to know that Haggar paid some thugs to kidnap his daughter to: a) Convince her to dress more responsibly, like an adult and less like a dancer from an
80s INTERNET music video with George Michael MUSIC YOU DAMN KIDS LIKE, so she is not constantly kidnapped and tied to chairs and b) Give him a chance to get out of the office and his stuffy, restrictive shirt.
Is it weird that I like to imagine Haggar has a gigantic closet full of the same shirt which he frequently rips by accident while getting dressed? No, that’s not weird. I’m really heterosexual so it’s probably nothing weird. I enjoy making love with women. I also love trucks.
Maybe I’ve talked enough about Mike “Dream Angel” Haggar for the moment. Let’s move on, shall we?
Hey, who the fuck is Guy? Even his name is bland: it might as well be “Dude” or “Bro”. (Sorry people whose name is Guy! I apologize for your boring and probably French parents.) I’m not going to waste any more time talking about him, save to say that you can also play Final Fight Guy as Guy, but why bother? Really, don’t—you’re cheating yourself out of an amazing steroid circus if you do.
You might have noticed by now that I haven’t really touched on the gameplay of Final Fight Guy. It’s pretty standard side-scrolling beat ’em up and if you’ve played the other Final Fight games you have a good idea of what to expect.
In conclusion: smile, ladies. I don’t want to get shit for something when I have no idea what.