… otherwise we’ll sic Jessica on you. And you don’t wanna get stuck in an everyday conversation with Jessica.
My terror of women has just increased that much more.
So yeah, another XBIG game I grabbed recently was Don’t Be Nervous Talking To Girls. Or rather, my so-called friends grabbed it for me because they thought it would be hilarious or something (hey, those were my 80MSP!). And yeah, I played it — but only so that I could ace it quickly in front of my buddies before jumping straight back to impressing real women and stuff.
I’ve never really understood the dating game thing, mainly because I think that canned interactions with a pre-defined AI are about as useful to one’s social skills as a therapy session with the local chat bot. And sure, Guitar Hero doesn’t let you rip the riffs just because you can steamroll Cherub Rock on medium, but at least it’s a fun process. Dating titles, on the other hand, seem to harvest hormones and desperation in place of cool game mechanics and meaningful experiences. I wouldn’t call myself a veteran of the genre (no, honest, I wouldn’t!), but most of the ones I’ve encountered (by pure chance or accident) are just a teensy bit rubbish (and didn’t star my kind of women anyway).
I’m not saying that the core premise of these titles is sexist (well I actually kinda am, though I’d strap a mountain of boobs onto Desktop Dungeons if my colleagues stopped erasing the damn code). But would it kill developers to make something that’s fun to play through regardless of the gratuities offered? There’s about a bajillionty-one games out there already flooding us with all sorts of sexploitive crap in between the good ol’ gameplay, but some of them are distinctly more fun than others. Sure, maybe half of Lara Croft’s fan base just want to stare at her ass for most of the game, but anybody who’s actually interested in the challenge at hand will probably be more focused on the tiger that’s trying to rip their throat out or something. Hell, I dunno, I never even bothered with Tomb Raider.
In closing, here’s Ivy from Soul Calibur:
Why yes, she does have nice ankles.
Aaaand that’s our blog’s monthly quota for sexism and general poor taste well and truly capped. Next week’s feature: horrible spelling!