6 Completely Inexplicable Video Games Starring Rock Stars

As for Icon, you can acquire extra points for sacking your opponent in time to music. Your rewards are straight out of an episode of The Price Is Right, co-hosted by Vanilla Ice and Michael Bay. There's everything from twinkling hubcaps to fireballs shooting out of the ground. If this trend had continued, the fourth game would've been Transformers-themed, and T.I. would gain the ability to transform into a hovercraft.

If you're thinking, "Hm, this sounds like a game that should play 'Space Oddity' or 'Life On Mars' in the background, or at least in the commercial," then you aren't alone. Game director David Cage decided to bring in David Bowie for the soundtrack ... and also the storyline, level construction, and design of two characters. One of whom, we have to guess, was supposed to be Bowie as imagined by someone who hadn't been completely sober since roughly the age of six.

Roughly 100 percent of players had to ch-ch-ch-ch-change their underwear after seeing him for the first time.

His other role was playing the frontman of a rock band trying to bring down the system -- an admirable goal slightly undercut by the fact that, rather than cranking out hardcore-yet-uplifting protest tunes, they specialize in playing unreleased David Bowie material. We can only guess that the omnipotent dimension-ruling supercomputer has a weakness for weird English guys. There's no real way to tell.

The bad ending is "Let's Dance" blared at 500 decibels while your "off" button freezes forever.

What's interesting is that the game doesn't ever play any music by the band. Instead, we're treated to countless hours of Lemmy grunting his way over (much like Super Mario) the best synth-rock that the makers of this game could buy.

It sounds like someone took a Deuce Of Spades.

Then there's his hitherto-unknown magical abilities. If you beat up enough dudes, you can collect special "Golden Motorheads" that fill your magic meter. Once it's filled, you can do anything, from turning your guitar into a magic lightning bolt gun to summoning a demon groupie who will sex your enemies into a coma of a refractory period, allowing you to kill them and giving new meaning to the phrase "dick move."

For those who stick with this game, there's also a bunch of mini-games that have you take part in such traditional rock 'n' roll activities as smashing up rock hotel rooms, picking up groupies, drinking 'til your eyes pop out of your head, and eating a ton of sushi. That last one might seem strange, but trust us; we modified this to replace Motorhead with Led Zeppelin, and you don't want to know where those fish ended up instead.

Enter Xplora1, a game so incomprehensible that it reads like the dictionary of a dead language, and then smacks you upside the head with that very dictionary. Made as a companion to his 1992 album Us, Xplora1 is what happens when narcissism meets hedonism in a weird yoga class on the wrong side of Portland.

Alongside an encyclopedia of his life, as well as a tool that allows you to play his collection of exotic instruments, the main task of the game is to ... fill a suitcase with his stuff. You aren't told what stuff precisely, and in some parts of the game, you can't progress until the right stuff has been located and packed. But yeah, go get 'em, tiger. In hindsight, this doesn't read like a game so much as an experiment in how much bullshit gamers would put up before smashing their heads against a wall.

But don't worry! If you ever get stuck, the floating head of Gabriel will appear, as if someone read from the wrong religious text under the blood moon. He gives you hints, chats with you, or encourages you to move your mouse if the whole experience insta-atrophied your brain. And that's not all! Dotted around the environment are a series of random mini-games, including tic-tac-toe (Tic-tac-toe? Are you kidding, Peter? Did you not get the rights to tag?) and a weird one co-starring Brian Eno in which you have to match famous musicians to their music.

This game was released in 1994, so needless to say, it got its ass kicked by such releases as Final Fantasy III, Warcraft, and ... wait, it won a ton of fucking awards? Well, shit. What do we know?

You play Randy Rhoads, who's on a quest to rid the kingdom of an ancient demon king called the Black Slayer before he can usurp the Crimson Emperor or the game writers could rip off any more band names. You're accompanied by Zack "This Guy" Wylde and later adopted by Ozzy Osbourne, proving that -- even with the help of magic -- Child Protective Services is as worthless as a candle in the wind.

If you didn't know you were playing as rock royalty, you'd assume that this was a standard old-ass Nintendo game ... which is to say that there is literally nothing else to do with rock music in this game. There's no music, no themed levels, not even a single drink anywhere. It's like the manufacturers were forced to make a rock game as part of their contract, and made the most incomprehensible piece of shit ever out of pure spite. Which itself is pretty rock 'n' roll, you guys.

When you think about it, this game also puts you in the really awkward position of having you fight demons and otherworldly nightmares under the banner of fucking Black Sabbath. This is a band who, if they ever ran across a demon, would be more inclined to high-five it and take it to a strip club than magic-murder it. That's not to say that we'd want a game where you blow up angels and shit, but ... seriously, guys.

Be sure to check out The 5 Most Absurd Video Games Starring Rock Stars and The 5 Most Baffling Celebrity Appearances In Video Games.

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