I never really wanted to play Bioshock 2. It wasn’t primarily for all those obvious complaints the game gets about being a rehash or a blatant money grab or anything like that. My aversion to the game was simpler than that:

I felt extremely uncomfortable playing a video game where the only word the protagonist could utter was “HRRUUGGGHMMMMMMMM.” And if that wasn’t bad enough, the game had you fight all these Big Sisters whose vocabulary consisted entirely of “SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.”

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Seriously, having to fight a Big Sister meant dealing with vocalizations you’d expect to hear from a drunk Banshee suffering from explosive diarrhea. I pity those who had to play with headphones.

But a while back I got my hands on Bioshock Infinite, which made me miss the first Bioshock. Knowing nostalgia to be a potent drug that offers little satisfaction, I decided not to replay the first game in the series, but rather the one I skipped. And being someone who occasionally writes about video games, I thought it would be cool to, you know, write about what I’m playing, since I sadly don’t have much time to game these days.

But the thing is, I don’t know what the hell there is to say about this game. There’s no point in writing a review, and it doesn’t really give you anything interesting to think about—the story and trappings of the game are entirely defined by being the opposite of what existed in the first game. Oh, Andrew Ryan is an objectivist who idealizes the individual? Well then we’ll give you Sofia Lamb, a collectivist who stands for the Family, whatever that is. Thought playing as a puny human was lame? No worries, now you’re a (wimpy) Big Daddy!

“HRRUUGGGHMMMMMMMM” isn’t actually a bad way to describe this game.

Hey, how about this: a review where instead of talking about the game, I argue with the character I’m supposed to play as. That could be fun. Just not with this game.

“HRRUUGGGHMMMMMMMM.”

I hear Sleeping Dogs is pretty cool.