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"Before heading to the wharf, I get a severe attack of déja vu as we see EXACTLY THE SAME SCENE from earlier. All that's changed is the dialogue. Clay is still pissed, TikTok offers some words of wisdom, Clay laments having to leave Sandy behind, and they all look up at the window. EXACTLY THE SAME AS BEFORE. If Crapcom dragged this game out any more, it'd probably snap in two."
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Posts Tagged ‘cooking mama’


I love my dead gay son fruity pink DS

I’ll probably use this space mostly to talk about DS games. Between a general drought of interesting games on real consoles and the fact that the DS is pretty much the most awesome platform ever, that’s kind of all I play. Unless you guys want me to talk about World of Warcraft in this space, and I can almost guarantee that no one wants that.

Of course, if you’re not into brain teasers, Pokémon, or gay lawyers in fuschia suits, what does the DS have to offer you? Only the most enthralling gaming experience known to man: Cooking Mama.

Cooking Mama combines three of the things I love most in this world: videogames, cooking and amusing Engrish. Yeah, sometimes Mama makes me cook things like mustard-filled lotus root (and I just realized how that comes off) but it’s mostly making delicious food and seeking–no, craving–Mama’s bright-eyed approval. Actually, I realized that I deal with Mama the same way I dealt with my own mother. In the first Cooking Mama, Mama was all smiles and delight at everything I did, and when I did make a mistake, her angry disapproval just made me want to be better! So Mama wouldn’t be mad at me anymore! But in Cooking Mama 2: The Adolescent Stage, I decided Mama was being kind of a bitch. Whatever, Mama, I totally blew on that pot at the right time! I’m not perfect, okay? If you’re so fucking good at this why don’t YOU do it? You use ketchup in everything, anyway! You don’t know anything!!! Turning off the DS was as cathartic as slamming my bedroom door. So I’m assuming that Cooking Mama 3 will have me back to being best pals with Mama again, only with the stipulation that she’d like me to call her a little more often.

And if Mama is supposed to be my mom, I really don’t want to talk about unlocking new clothes for her to wear, like the cheerleader outfit. Dude, that’s my mom. Stop looking at her like that.

Posted by Sam at 12:08

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