Another manly Monday, and here at Every Game, we like to roll our sorrows into a ball and chew it like tobacco. See, we’re a manly bunch. We like to grip things angrily and shout menacingly. When we shop for clothing, we purchase shirts that button on the right side, IF THEY BUTTON AT ALL! Because even the word button offends a deeply manly disgust for words of French origins. French is for girls! Give us words with Scandinavian origins, like snug, rig, or wicker. Words that put hair on your balls. And if you don’t have balls, they put hair on your dog.
All this to say, one of the extremely manly things we like to do around here is play beat-em-ups on the SNES. Especially when they are assigned to us in alphabetical order. So, to prepare for this review, I’ve masturbated eleven times, very violently, and silently. After all that was done, I started up Rival Turf, expecting ANGER to ensue, as it always does.
Much to my dismay, everything about this game is girly as all hell! Observe!
Okay, so maybe it’s not so much girly as gay. I’m not really sure where it fits on the scale of masculinity. This game takes place in San Fransisco. Men in tight clothing fight other men in tight pink clothing. At the end of the first level, a genie attacks you with a sword. He is wearing purple. In short, this game is a terrible stereotype gone awry, ultimately becoming irony. Maybe even satire.
It’s a bad excuse for a beat-em-up. You can win by jumping back and forth kicking in the same pattern throughout the entire game.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to clean my bathroom.