By Jared Chausow
By Katie Toth
By Elizabeth Flock
By Albert Samaha
By Anna Merlan
By Jon Campbell
By Jon Campbell
By Albert Samaha
FREESTYLE METAL X
Developer Midway Games
Publisher Midway Games
Rating 6 (out of 10)
I grew up in the sticks, spending my pre-teens smoking pine needles rolled in Bible paper (the poor boy's cigarette), popping caps in BB-gun battles, and listening to Guns N' Roses. Unfortunately, I moved away before getting ahold of real firearms (my older, non-hunting brothers cut down trees with borrowed shotguns) or muscle cars, four-wheelers, and dirt bikes (my town's ubiquitous, motorized white-trash modes of transportation) Finally, with Freestyle Metal X, I get to take crotch rockets off-road. While not exactly the Gummo of extreme sports games, FMX combines trucker-title anti-aesthetics, below-the-belt humor, and skill-building requirements best fit for bored kids. What more could you ask for?
Boobies, of course. We get those in pairs, I mean spades: Two of the available bikers put even Lara Croft to shame. (The game's other big guns include nine actual pros, all men. You may also choose from a ninja or the dreadlocked "Bob Gnarly.") In order to pull the game's 100 or so nutty stunts, you'll have to grab air and push more buttons than Jerry Falwell10 to achieve the "catnac scissor kick." Rack 'em up to fill your "rad-o-meter." ("Bob, you're our head of marketingare kids still using the word 'rad'?" "Totally, dude!") If you're quick, the full bar enables super stunts. Two things, besides the lack of a true multiplayer option, set Freestyle Metal X apart from other ex-games: the option to link its unlockable environments, so you can speed directly from the seaside into a snowstorm; and its soundtrack's handful of classic metal tunes from Twisted Sister, Mötley Crüe, Megadeth, and Motörhead. I'll take Lemmy over Bob Gnarly any day.
Lara Croft wins yet another wet T-shirt contest
(photo: courtesy of Eidos Interactive)
That the lovely and talented Angelina Jolie had to stuff her bra for this franchise's first movie confirms the obvious: No one wants gaming's best-known heroine to get anything off her chest. And yet Lara Croft's sixth adventure on the small screen attempts to flesh out the large-breasted one's personality, via a typically convoluted, conspiracy-theorizing plot: Lara gets framed for the murder of an old associate in Paris, and therefore implicated in "Monstrum's Dark Renaissance," which somehow involves 14th-century "Obscura Paintings" an "unholy alliance," and some dude named "the Alchemist." Heyit worked for Dude, Where's My Car? But guiding Lara from one cut-scene to the next would frustrate even the most patient player. In the forthcoming Tomb Raider movie sequel, Jolie opens a can of whup-ass in search of Pandora's box; she need look no further than this game's bundle of flaws.
Theoretically, The Angel of Darkness represents a leap in gameplay. As you explore the nicely rendered levels, solving puzzles and picking up clues, you're able to climb, swing from pipes, sneak up behind enemies, and swim underwater. But attempting to do so makes one appreciate the natural fluidity of, say, Splinter Cell: The camera almost never points where you need it to, Lara moves erratically even as simple tasks like opening a drawer require precise maneuvering, stealth mode is buggy, and opponents are all too easily dispatched in crude combat. It's a real bust.
Sure beats sipping Cristal with Puffy at Mission
Buy, rent, or pay to play PS2 and Xbox ti-tles at Game Time Nation's new location, located on 12th Street between Third and Fourth avenues.