Ms. Pac-Man


Wakka wakka wakka wakka wakka wakka.

A classic noise that everyone even remotely familiar with video games will instantly recognize. Is it even possible to live in this era without having heard the passing of a Mr. or Ms. Pac-Man?

Wakka wakka wakka wakka wakka wakka.

In Somalia, a small child huddles for safety in the cabin of a boat beset by pirates, and yet somehow he hears this noise.

Wakka wakka wakka wakka wakka wakka.

Deep in the Amazon Rainforest, an animal you’ve never even fuckin’ heard of is bopping its tiny misshapen head to the beat of Pac.

Wakka wakka wakka wakka wakka wakka.

I don’t need to review Ms. Pac-Man, because we’ve all reviewed it already. It’s inside all of us.

Wakka wakka wakka wakka wakka wakka.


F1 ROC 2

It was a hot night. He sat at his desk trying to think, the floor shaking to the bass-line in the dance club below.

Who was the ROC? What did they want?

It had been a week since the phone calls started. Every day at five o-clock – whispering. Madness.

He had to get out of here. He tucked his keys into his coat pocket and closed the door behind him.

His car sounded like vibrator stuck in someone’s teeth. I’d better go see that Hispanic mechanic, he thought. He’s the sort of person I trust touching my engine.

You're such a tease, Hispanic mechanic!
You're such a tease, Hispanic mechanic!

But the Hispanic mechanic was trying his hand at research and development. He didn’t want to fix the car, he wanted funding so that he could fix the car later.

“Fuck that,” he swore. And he left.

It was getting dark.

It was only a few miles to Moon City. His white Stratistastic grumbled like a whiny bitch as he pushed his foot to the floor.


A few metres into the Moon City and people were already making bum jokes. Bum jokes, he thought, are the refuge of the sad and alone.

Suddenly, headlamps appeared in his rear-view mirror. He moved his hand to his holster.

As the car pulled up alongside his, a young blond-haired man poked his head out of the window.

“Beware the pit!” the yellow god shouted, and he spun the wheel hard.

“What a douche.”

The cars collided with the sound of a machine gun going off inside a bouncy castle.

He was out of control. He couldn’t turn out of the skid, and he was sure he was going to die.

But the red circles on the side of the road just bounced him back to the centre of the road. He didn’t even lose any speed, and there was no damage to his car.

I’ll crash some more, then, he thought, compelled.

Boing! Boing! Boing! He was having some seriously pointless fun.

Soon he came to a sign that said “Pit-Stop.” Well, that was just fine with him. He needed an engine jobby, anyhoo.

He drove his car down the narrow pit-lane, looking for signs of life, but none appeared.

“I’m out of luck,” he muttered, cursing his fortune.

A wave of blackness came. It wiped the world from his eyes.

“The Race of Champions,” cried voices all around him.

Ghostly fingers and slow hands moved over his face. “We are the Race of Champions.”

The stench of death hung thick in the air.
The stench of death hung thick in the air.

They were all around him. Swarming. A phantom pit-crew with phantom tools, pouring non-existent gasoline into a full tank, tightening screws that weren’t loose.

It was over as fast as it had begun. The specters raised their arms in salute as he pulled away.

A rush of cars sped in front of him. The Nordic god pulled alongside. “Yo, Gumby, what did I tell you about the pit? Now you’re almost a lap behind!”

His car still sounded like a toddler’s treadmill.

Curse the Race of Champions!


Demon’s Crest

Undead dragon? Fine by me!
Undead dragon? Fine by me!

Since I started writing for Every Game Ever, I’ve played a lot of SNES games that I was unaware existed back when I was young enough* to play SNES games. For the most part, I don’t feel as though I missed anything, but Demon’s Crest is a bit of an exception. Much like Disney’s Aladdin, I like this game. Perhaps not coincidentally, it’s also a Capcom game. I like Capcom. I don’t love them like I love dice, drugs or clever improvisational wordplay, but as I mentioned back in my Aladdin review, they usually manage to create a product that’s at least decent.

Good work Capcom! When the final judgment arrives, I will ensure all of your deaths are relatively quick—such is the mercy of my great beneficence. Praise be to the DARK STAIN OF ABADDON AS IT SPREADS UNCHECKED THROUGH THE MORTAL REALM! CRUSH THE COPTICS AND RUN THE STREETS RED WITH THE BLOOD OF THOSE WHO OPPOSE HIS FRACTIOUS LOCUSTS! ABADDON! ABADDON!

I like the fact that you can fly around in this game. Tap the ‘A’ button once to jump, and hit it a second time to hover in the air! It almost makes the game a little easy since you can sail over the heads of your unwitting foes. You can also spit fire and smash statues—not all of the statues, mind you—both of which are quite enjoyable. The graphics are pleasing to the eye, and I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that the main character is modeled after one of the villains from Ghouls ‘n Ghosts, so that’s neat.

Supposedly there’s also an RPG element to this game, but I didn’t play far enough to reach it since my duties keep me otherwise occupied in the NETHER ZONE**. As the flesh sloughs from the twisted faces of the poor wretches caught in the maelstrom of the unholy furnace, I will look and them and laugh and remember fondly the controls, graphics and perhaps even the music of Demon’s Crest!

But most of all, I’ll remember you, reader of Every Game Ever. You almost taught me what love was—if only it hadn’t been too late. Too late for the world you know: too late for your mothers and fathers and sisters and daughters and brothers and sons. Remark now the sky as it is blotted out with Abaddon’s minions and remark now the earth and its crawling darkness.

* I am too old for this shit. I’m about to retire. Gonna sail around the world on my boat, the “Not Get Killed in a Hilariously Stereotypical Fashion Just Before Retirement in a Way That Inspires My Younger and More Action-Oriented Partner to Seek Revenge Against Multiple Opponents Who are Significantly Less Capable Than Him.” The name of my boat seems to annoy the people at the marina for some reason.

** This can mean basically whatever you want it to mean. Go crazy.