Downloadable content is to games as cannibals are to surgery: Both are meant to make things better, but both can eat my asshole. DLC allows developers to make extra content for their fans in the same way swords allowed people to go to neighboring villages to help carve turkeys. Virtual clothing packs cost more than entire independent games, but at least virtual horse armor is now the good old days. Modern DLC is paying developers to discover the exact minimum quality gamers will accept.
These are the assholes who fell short of that minimum with all the grace and subtlety of a long jumper missing the sand because they were trying to pick the judge's pocket as they ran by.
5Paying For Temporary Titillation
The Saboteur was the final release from Pandemic Studios, a developer owned by EA at the time, and it played like the bailiffs hauled it from the building along with the coffee pot and vending machine. It was definitely filled with things developers might one day turn into a finished game, but not something you should spend $50 to sit down and play. The game ran like the Matrix on a 486 with stuttering animations, random glitches, and AI that occasionally decided it would rather die than keep playing. Either that or there was a subplot with the unquiet spirit of a dead cat randomly possessing people to stand on high places, run out across roads for no reason, then suddenly lie down on the ground.
But the studio didn't have time to finish the game. Instead, they developed the worst DLC in the history of the world. The Midnight Club add-on charged $5 to add nipples to the simulated strippers along with some basic bullshit gambling games, aka: "things you not only find for free online but things you can't help BUT see online." This game charged real money to add what most people install Adblock to skip.
"If only those were SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT PIXELS!"
It's the purest possible expression of true DLC: They hadn't even finished programming "enemies die when you kill them as opposed to when they get bored by your presence" but shifted resources to "replace these cartoon pasties with cartoon nipples." In other words, the smallest possible addition an idiot would pay for.
"Oh yeah, feeling really good about my life right now."
So you've just paid 5 bucks for electronic areolae. You'd think things couldn't get worse. But getting-worse-ology seems to be EA's entire business model. Because once you'd bought your literally bit-ty titties, EA had your money and that's where their interest in the situation apparently ended. So they switched off the servers and kept all the money. The nipples disappeared forever -- a virtual nipocalypse -- along with every other element of the paid expansion, and anyone complaining was buried under endless pages of end user license agreement and the crushing knowledge of how far they'd fallen in life.
4Tiger Woods Excruciation
Golf is the rich people equivalent of licking the entire countryside so that nobody else can use it. The only human activity to use more ground for fewer people was the Apollo moon landings. Electronic golf is a great idea, because golf was already the most utterly artificially contrived challenge it was possible for humanity to construct. Switching it to software saves people the bother of walking.
Faithfully simulating the "whacking golf balls in front of crammed hordes you
don't even view as real" dynamic.
Unfortunately, Tiger Woods PGA Tour 13 treated your first $40 as an entry ticket to the Tiger Woods PGA 13 golf market. You didn't buy a game; you bought an advertisement. Over half of the game's courses were locked behind paywalls, and EA's insistence you could get them without cash didn't fool anyone for a single second. Because the process took weeks.
You had to earn coins to rent the locked courses, then use your rental time to complete "Gold Course Mastery" challenges. Which were on par with hitting a gold ball through the eye of a needle that already has a camel wedged in it. And was equally aimed at rich people. By the time you unlocked the courses through game play you'd be too busy being presented to the Vulcan Ambassador as the oldest human alive. The exchange rate between playtime and new course rental was about the same as trying to buy real golf courses by working a minimum-wage job cutting the grass. But less fun.
Even Dragon Ball Z would consider the amount of time taken to earn this ridiculous.
All this in a game with loading times that felt like swimming through a molasses warehouse after an earthquake and DLC adverts after every 30-second pause. A more enjoyable and less agonizingly drawn-out version of home golf would be swallowing the balls whole and trying to shit them onto a moving Roomba.