Indie Cred: Me, Myself, and An East Coast Hurricane
It's monday again, and once again we're desperately searching for ways to cling to those lost hours of days gone by. As we lament the loss of our weekends and our free time to soul-sucking immerso-gaming, looking disdainfully and regretfully on those 5 hours spent watching 2 1-hour cutscenes and completing 2% of a game, we wonder to ourselves, "what accursed devil-man would be so cruel as to create something so engrossing that would deign to infringe on my time so surreptitiously? What manner of beast does such a thing, what mind of malevolence and spite would wish such abyssal weights upon common beings such as we? Curse the gods. CURSE WHAT GODS HAVE MADE SUCH MEN."
People really just have all the wrong ideas about luchadores. The revelatory film Nacho Libre really exposed the sports dark, gritty nature and humanized its often objectified participants. Luchadores are people, people. They're people. Never forget that.
Sake Express is a love letter to luchadores.
It was also featured on the Indie Games Blog, where Tim Wee and the crew are doing a consistently great job at digging up indie game gold.
As cool as luchadores are, luchadores inside a jet plane tasked with shooting down neverending swarms of clone pilots and collecting soda pop and filtered water would be infinitely cooler. Take out the luchadores and all you get is Jet Pilot GoNOW!
This is still pretty cool, though.
We all remember when Afterburner first came out in arcades and the rush we felt just watching that game play itself. I don't care what anyone says about the dangers of reliving those glory days. I'll live in the past my entire life if I want to, you bastards.
Of course, the game looks best in action.
And last, but not least, is a game that will pretty much take up the rest of your day because you're an addict and you can't get enough high-scoring block-breaking combo-making lazergun-shooting cape-jumping block-breaking high-scoring sprite-drawinged block-breaking combo-making...
If any of the above contains any grammatical, spelling, or logic errors, it's because of this game.
Deceptively simple, destructively difficult, slavishly addicting. You will not survive.
You think you can stop. You think you ought to stop. You think that maybe stopping might actually keep you from dying from apshyxiation. But you can't stop. You can't stop. You will not survive.
You are your greatest enemy. Your greatest weakness, exposed to yourself. Your shining moment, your deadliest foe, your nerve-wracked brain, your trembling fingers, your poor keyboard. Your poor, poor keyboard.
Once your best friend has called the paramedics and revived you from your asphyxiative coma, proceed to gander and gaze upon the images found in this thread.
Godspeed, Gyossait.
Well, I don't think these titles will do you any better, addict.
People really just have all the wrong ideas about luchadores. The revelatory film Nacho Libre really exposed the sports dark, gritty nature and humanized its often objectified participants. Luchadores are people, people. They're people. Never forget that.
As cool as luchadores are, luchadores inside a jet plane tasked with shooting down neverending swarms of clone pilots and collecting soda pop and filtered water would be infinitely cooler. Take out the luchadores and all you get is Jet Pilot GoNOW!
And last, but not least, is a game that will pretty much take up the rest of your day because you're an addict and you can't get enough high-scoring block-breaking combo-making lazergun-shooting cape-jumping block-breaking high-scoring sprite-drawinged block-breaking combo-making...
Once your best friend has called the paramedics and revived you from your asphyxiative coma, proceed to gander and gaze upon the images found in this thread.
Godspeed, Gyossait.
