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Penny Arcade - Comic - Hideocalypse
Dog
Registered User, Administrator, Vanilla Staff admin
Registered User, Administrator, Vanilla Staff admin
Penny Arcade - Comic - Hideocalypse
Videogaming-related online strip by Mike Krahulik and Jerry Holkins. Includes news and commentary.
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"You can see the crabs, the whales, all things, they all have these umbilical cables. Norman, as he stands up. It’s a very important part, this connection. That’s the keyword. What people are playing today in open-world action games, or linear action games, it will compare naturally to them. It will feel familiar. But after an hour or two of playing, you will start to feel something different, something new that you haven’t played. The story is about connections, what you call “strands” in psychology—how people are connected."
That's some Peter Molyneaux right there.
Still makes pretty good games so it's probably a tad harsh to wheel out comparisons to Moly just yet.
don't be ridiculous - sharks are virtually neckless.
The difference is that Kojima talks about big ideas and emotional connections whereas Molyneux talks about actual features he thinks the game is going to have. They might both be blowing smoke, but Molyneux is the only one who's actively lying to us.
No, that's what the two Move controllers are for. Watch as friends prank each other with ketchup squeeze bottles.
but, there's not really any clear, visible, transition, on a shark, from what's obvious shark-neck, to what's NOT obvious shark-neck--I mean, they have giant, gaping, ever-hungry 'Muppet Beeker'-mouths lined with an automated organo-factory for continuously churning out scores of bitterly sharp spear-teeth; long, slender, pale necks that go all the way down...lined with gently but continuously throbbing, pale pink gills, don't forget those...with convenient fins stuck on, for rough or easy handling.
That's like over 98% neck-ro-philiac goodness. Stick dead eyes like a doll's eyes, and a bunch of bloody razors, on a giant neck, distill all it's desires into a relentless, dull unthinking lust to consume the world and all it's children, give it near-immortality, more muscle-mass--pound for pound--than any three tigers, and a supernatural ability to sniff out the weeping wounds of the dying and the damned; and you've, basically, got a shark.