In Defense of the Genesis (Part 1)

Tonight, I have decided to devote my mind and body to my good old Sega Genesis. After scavenging it out of the recesses of my closet and plugging it into the tiny television I keep on my computer desk, I am now prepared to spend an evening with one of my favorite classics, Streets of Rage.

(Cue the Primus shuffle.)


Hah. The white character has less hops than the black guy. Can't jump as high.

I forgot about how fun this game was. It was such a spectacle of violence back in the day. You punch through a phone booth and find a corn dog on the ground. You eat it, and your ruptured ribcage and open fleshwounds suddenly heal themselves. Then you proceed to punch another phone booth, shattering it once more into oblivion. Instead of a magical corn dog, you find a lead pipe. You pick it up and use the next wave of thugs as baseballs. Even before the techonology of Rumble Paks, you feel those swings of the pipe connecting with and destroying your enemies. Of course, your character insists on holding every badass weapon in the most awkward of positions, almost in some sort of strange attempt to hold its arm at a perfect 90 degree angle. What a world I have found myself in.

Dominatrixes and rocket launchers aside, Streets of Rage boasts an extremely detailed and imaginative setting. The colors are varied and artistic, and the city itself seems to hold some untold story of anarchy and urban rebellion.

When the character jumps, it looks like he's performing some horrible stripper pose in mid-air.

This game is awesome. Time to watch some Dragonball Z movies.