SPOILER ALERT: Awful. Just awful.
Once upon a time, our two year old nephew was going to get a Wii for Christmas. Bad Idea Jeans, but it wasn’t my kid, so whatevs. I did some research for suitable games for kids who barely have the motor skills to karate chop a dog in the face, and came across this. We bought it for him in anticipation of holiday gaming, so naturally, that shit fell through. We ended up getting a Wii of our own, so when I dicked around and waited too long to return Super Duck Fuckler, we found ourselves the proud owners of a stupefyingly terrible game. Last night, I finally opened it up to play it.
This is an amazingly bad game, even by Wii standards. It’s all well and good to trumpet the Wii’s ‘revolutionary’ controls, but when all you apply that to is Rubber Arm Yakuza Dudes and Lightsaber Jackoff, then it ultimately means nothing. The blaster is a no-brainer for the Wii remote, and in all honesty, the safety orange shotgun peripheral is far and away the best thing about Chicken Blaster.
AT FIRST…
Here’s the deal with this stupid, stupid gun: once you get the remote AND nunchuk (oh yeah, you need both the remote and the dumb nunchuk) wound and wrapped and shoved into place, you find out that the shooting mechanic is completely counter-intuitive. Your trigger finger? You use that to reload. Your hand supporting the barrel? Your new trigger finger lives on that hand, and if this were a real shotgun, you would blow that fucking finger right the hell off.
But you know what? I could overlook all of that if there were anything fun or engaging or even mildly distracting about the actual gameplay. Graphics are bad. Sound is annoying. There appear to be no more than four different enemies, and once you shoot your quota of them, the rest magically fade into the ether, probably out of a deep, Japanese-like sense of shame (educated guess). There are a few different weapons to use, but I couldn’t stand the game long enough to see anything other than the pistol.
And that’s the other thing; no blood. At least give me that! When I blast a chicken, I would appreciate an appropriate explosion of feathers and viscera. Instead, I get a yardbird with a helicopter backpack spiraling his way to the ground and vanishing into a retarded barnyard hell.
Unacceptable.
UNACCEPTABLE.
UNACCEPTABLE.
SCORE: Chicken Blaster gets a 1 out of 5.
