Super Smash Brothers: The DEFINITIVE Review (Do You Enjoy It? Only I Have The Answer!)
Well, it's been on the minds and in the sweaty, chapped-from-manual-stimulation hands of most of this blog's readers for nearly four days now, so let's discuss it. The Brawl, what with the Donkeys and the Squirtles. What do we think? Well, since they pay me to, I'll tell you what I think, and we'll move forward from there.
There's a lot of them, so that’s good. They didn't lose anyone I loved, and it's a Genesis-boy's wet dream to see Sonic tearing up Green Hill Zone on a next-gen system. I mean for the love of Prower, why the hell did Sega ever abandon the sure-fire “Sonic moves quickly to the right” scenario?
Some of the newbies are pretty pathetic in my hands (Pokemon trainer, don’t quit your day job at the Evergrande City Starbucks). But as my buddy Steve routinely handing me my ass with the Ice Climbers and Jigglypuff proves, Smash is a game where enough practice can allow you to piss off your friends with nearly any character.
And now, watch me garner the combined hatred of thousands of Internet fanboys with no more than two syllables: Snake? Meh.
Maybe it’s because at my house we play with items turned off (and the loser has to spend the night outside; we’re pretty intense), but fuck Nintendogs. Little motorcycle guys, you’re cool.
As for the rest, let’s not kid ourselves: they’re basically Pokeballs. Which isn’t bad, it’s just surprising that Nintendo found a way to cram even more first-party characters into what is essentially a huge circle jerk. A circle jerk with, you know, fighting and stuff. Like High School gym.
In case you hadn’t gathered, I used a forged doctor’s note to get out of High School gym.
I for one was a huge fan of those old cell-animated Marvel vs. Capcom games where if one (let’s call him “Michael”) were to mash all the buttons and wiggle the stick like it were his prom date Tad, a massive, screen-darkening final attack would materialize. With a few exceptions, the final smashes seem at least as cool as those.
And by a few exceptions, I mean Jigglypuff, who just gets even fatter like when your girlfriend eats her depression away after you tell her she could stand to lose a few, and Peach, who just plain eats her depression away…probably because the only guys she ever gets to sleep with are pudgy service workers and horrible dinosaur men.
I’d actually be really interested in hearing other opinions about this. Nintendo was obviously just as paranoid about it, what with the four controller schemes. I played primarily with the Wiimote+Nunchuck, which worked okay except I felt more compelled to jump with the stick instead of the button, which I hate.
As for the “just plain Wiimote” configuration, I have long held that any controller scheme that asks the user to reach for the minus button (roughly fourteen inches from all other buttons on the controller) should rate a clause in the Geneva Convention.
So what about it, blogosphere? Is this the game that finally highlights what a gimmick the Wii is? Or am I racist? Remember, it’s got to be one or the other.
When not blogging for Cracked, Michael serves as a subspace emissary for international sketch troupe Those Aren't Muskets!