No More Heroes Reader Review

We'll keep this brief. If you know any 3 of the following:

Takashi Miike.

Guitar Wolf.

Having a shitty job.

Having a NES.

ECW.

Akira.

Star Wars.

Crank (the Jason Statham movie).

Smart sneaks and funky-ass T-shirts...

You WILL get something from this game.

I have sat for 24+ hours, switching from laughing at the (genuinely very funny) banter, to bemoaning the utter uselessness of the mini-map, to screaming "EAT SHIT, BASTARDS!" at my TV and giving my girlfriend reason to rename NMH "That Infernal Racket". And even as the whiskey drains, take-out is hurriedly scoffed, and my chances of getting any tonight dwindle; only one thought is constant...

Do I start over so I can sort out that missing Wrestling Card? (The answer is yes... but I need to re-acquire the 70 t-shirts I've amassed...)

I'm by no-means a casual gamer. From Creatures on the c64 to Sin and Punishment on the N64, I've missed sleep, broken joysticks, slapped friends, phoned in sick, and invented curses so strong that they'll blister paint. This game equals EVERYTHING, and betters most.

Why? Because Real Life is a pain in the arse. It's cruel, it's tedious, and actual balls-out thrills are hard to come by.

Suda 51 not only knows this, but celebrates it. Money makes all the fun shit to do possible, but getting money is a chore; and that applies as much in Santa Destroy as it does in my front room. The meat of the game is to be worked up to... In fact, much of the 'working up' serves to piss you off to a point that once the battles commence, you (see also I) go bat-shit. Suplexes and massive, overkill lightsabre death are the only ways to truly feel... you know... like you're feeling alright

No More Heroes is officially my favourite game, EVER. Now... back to my hunt for t-shirts...