[caption id=”attachment_1604” align=”aligncenter” width=”555” caption=”The Texas Chainsaw Massacre…feel the fear.”][/caption]
We’ve become so cynical that even the most mediocre manifestation of the Hollywood marketing juggernaut—the video game adaptation of a Hollywood blockbuster—is now regarded with a shrug. Blame it on decades of desensitization to low quality and quick-buck schemes, but even the most reliable pop culture critics (I’m referring to that spicy blend of hipster, gamer, and techie) reserve their outrage for Uwe Boll instead of pointing their Doritos-stained fingers at lousy games. Why? Because they are exhausted. Too many targets tire even the most Spartan of sniping critics. Their trigger fingers are blistered and their cartridges are spent. Movies make for bad games but this doesn’t stop game adaptations, and since movies don’t show any sign of improving—Beverly Hills Chihuahua, anyone?—the snipers have packed up their rifles and trudged home. Taking potshots at Billy Mays along the way.