So I just finished Heavy Rain. Yes, I’m slow (and not in the retard sense of the word.) My delay in completing it can be attributed to two facts. Number one: I was late in gettin’ to the GameStop – I only bought it a few months ago. Shame on me. Number two (heh, number two): I can only play it during daylight hours. With someone next to me. Why yes, I am chickenshit. Disturbing things haunt the deepest recesses of my imagination. Show me a picture of Carrot Top and I won’t sleep for days.
For those of you unfamiliar with Heavy Rain, it’s a dark thriller video game about a serial killer called the Origami Killer. Oft described as an “interactive drama”, it tells its story by switching you between four main characters with interlaced plotlines. Your decisions and actions affect the outcome of the game.
It’s essentially a Choose Your Own Adventure book meets Se7en (that serial killer movie – with Morgan Freeman and Pepper Potts’ head in the box – that’s directed by David Fincher, who’s doing that Facebook movie The Social Network, which is actually more about the dramatic legal shenanigans of that Zuckerberg dude than the Facebook experience – like sending mildly suggestive Pokes to that boy you’ve like, totally, like, been crushing on or stalking old high school classmates and the sadistic joy that comes from seeing how fat they’ve gotten. This is the longest parenthetical tangent ever.)
Where was I? I’m not doing much to combat the whole not-slow-in-the-retard-sense-of-the-word thing. Look at me, bringing this post full circle. I’d end it here ‘cause let’s face it – you’re not gonna get much more closure than that, but I haven’t even really said anything of substance about the game yet. Here goes.
It’s amazing. Me like. Buy it, goddammit.
Favorite Game Moments:
– When that Mad Jack fellow (the only black dude in the game) yells “HEY, CRACKA!” I’m gonna be quoting that one ad nauseum. Heavy Rain may be about slowly drowning children to death, but goddamn if it doesn’t lighten up the mood with a little comedic stereotyping.
– Playing out that interactive sex scene. While sitting next to my dad.