Last years undoubtedly reassured people that graphics aren't everything. Success of indie darlings like Hotline Miami and The Binding of Isaac, as well as studio projects like Telltale's Walking Dead showed that people could enjoy good games without the pretty 10k picture and seven simultaneous Oculuses. As for "grindhouse games", they always carved their own way into our hearts. Most of them are projects of passion that pay homages to things most precious to their creators. That's why they have this strange, but somewhat familiar and lovingly crafted style. It's not just some artsy-fartsy stuff. It's people's beloved treasures projected onto the other stuff they love the most – videogames.
As it's closely connected to the aforementioned homages, music in such games is often underrated. Most gamers think of it as an “assault on all senses” or “that cool guitar riff in the background”, as in reality, music adds quite a lot of depth to the overall experience. At important moments, it may be tender, mysterious, horrifying or just plain disgusting. It helps game underline the expressions it honestly wants to evoke in us, without screaming out loud. Just look at Shadow Warrior's finale. Game itself may look like an untamed beast hungry for bloody massacre as you slice through hundreds of enemies, but inside you may found sensitive puppy that only afraid of one thing – loneliness. _____________________________________________________________________________
Whew! It sure was quite a ride, ain't it? As you can tell, I am a sucker for such games. Yes, I love them. Love them for their whimsical nature, simple, yet affectionately honest stories, their passionate tomfoolery and unadulterated sense of fun. Love them for staying true to their individuality and being broken and perfect at the same time. You may not feel about them the way I feel, but please, be thankful to them. For they deserve it.
Thank you for reading thus far. Be well and love games.
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About Uncle Terrorone of us since 11:53 PM on 08.16.2014
Some fellas might remember me from times long passed. Passages like "hand me some freaky stuff" or "good Grindhouse gives me stiffy" may spring into your mind, but sometimes even I have troubles recollecting all them alphabet scoundrels in the correct order.
You see, boys 'n girls, the thing is... the internet doesn't stay in one place all day long. It's constantly moving around like some transcendental hobo with a terrifying tendency to shoot cute kittens doing cute business. And while old habits die hard, the internet is changing just like Bruce Willis and them other living fellas.
Now, I'm finally getting to the point I'm so desperately trying to drive home in time for supper. I may not be Uncle and I may not be Terror, but the person behind the name is still 99,5% good ol' Uncle Terror. Where the other half percent, you may or may not ask? I heard it went out for cigarettes and never came back, but it doesn't matter now, does it? What matters is in the now, with you and me, right here.