Almost Every Game 1.0

Almost Every Game is a laughably, obscene, repulsive, detestable, offensive, abhorrent, repugnant, abominable, execrable, odious, ignoble, unhandable, ugly, stupid, smelly, rotten, no-good excuse for a “game.” Not only does it lack even a pathetic imitation of 3D graphics, it also fails to include any Mel Gibson-voiced characters.

Instead, it usually relies on antiquated 2D hand-drawn graphics, sometimes even failing to make us believe that the game environment is real. Its developer is a single acne-ridden male who suffers from a chronic case of trench mouth, as well as an unspeakable sucking neck wound, probably incurred by a unfortunate accident with one of his 101 incontinent Dalmatians.

Yes, this is a review of Almost Every Game in the whole wide world. Except, of course, those with the following shining attributes:

• Developed by more than 30 people.
• Insane, intense, unbelievable 3D shooter action, with ultra-realistic graphics optimized only for the latest industry-leading graphic cards.
• At least one mention of “hot bullet-on-zombie action” on the box.
• Ships on more than one CD, or preferably a DVD, just to hold the accompanying film-length anime feature.

All games developed by a single person just piss us off. There is nothing more annoying and aggravating then to download a game, expecting a multimillion-dollar graphics bonanza, and getting some little ball of shit banged out by some unpaid wannabe over a two-year period. That really burns our blood clots.

An Independent Game Developer hard at work.

Nothing could possibly be more disgusting and repugnant than a game not developed by an industry-experienced team of fifty 30-somethings. Why these people think they have the goddamned right to write their own bloody game, we just don’t know. And the worst of it is, some of them even have the gall to encourage gamers to exercise their synapses as part of the “gameplay.”

More like “gamework!”

Screw you, independent developers. You suck monkey-nuncles. For your inconsiderate crimes against humanity, we award you all a shit-smeared 11.0. May you die from an incurable, painful disease at a tragically young age, and may thistle grow over your forgotten mass grave.

Download Pathetic Independent Games

Evening came. The tempest faded to a distant howl, and all was quiet on the homestead. The mournful strains of a solitary bagpipe drifted over the darkened hills . . .