Gears Of War is very much like the product of when you let a 5-year-old boy cook you dinner—they go into the pantry, grab the canned frosting, marshmallows, chocolate chips and cereal, toss it all in a pot and turn the heat up full-blast. Smoke fills the house and sets off the alarm. You rush into the kitchen—your son is kind of scared, but is smiling from the thrill of creating a cataclysmic event from his own budding creativity. You want to yell at the stupid kid “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!” but then you remember that it was YOU who agreed to let him cook dinner in the first place. What were you thinking?
Your son stares up at you: he’s got his mother’s big brown eyes. You feel like a real jerk. You ask yourself, “What would a father character in a quirky movie about modern family life do this very moment?” You grab a spoon and stare down into the chocolaty, gelatinous abyss. It’s a bit scorched on the bottom. The marshmallows on top are only half-melted, but it looks more than eatable and you’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth.
“Why wouldn’t this be good? It’s melted chocolate, cereal bits, frosting, and marshmallow. I know I shouldn’t, but fuck it. I’m going to eat this. I’ve always wanted to make and eat something like this but was always afraid to...”
You sit down at the kitchen table with the pot and a couple of spoons.
“Thank you son for cooking dinner tonight. Now, go grab us some grahamies from the pantry to spread this on…”
So yeah, I’m alluding that Gears is that bubbling cauldron of sweet goo, thrown together by Epic Games—the industries biggest band of overgrown 5-year-old boys. Much like your son’s dinner, Gears 3 is an amalgamation of rich, sugary goodness, with a few burnt patches on the bottom of the pot.
Thanks for making dinner Cliffy B., now go grab some grahamies from the pantry to spread this on.
Graphics: (****) Heavy-Metal Harryhausen, deep-fried and double-glazed.
Story (*) About as sincere as a love letter from a convict doing time for double-rape.
Music (*) Nothing is “badass” about a symphony orchestra.
Gameplay (***) Like playing football with water-balloons.
Shotguns (*1/2) Firing a shotgun into a monster at near-pointblank range should never feel like a pillow fight.
Bosses (**) Bugs (literally) you stomp over and over again, but refuse to die.
Series As A Whole (***1/2) Prolonging male adolescence, one chainsaw bayonet at a time.
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