I’ve often wondered what it’s like to be the final boss in a video game. To live those final moments. To have to endure the sheer cheek of some helmeted twit kicking down the barricades to your secret science city. To watch him kill your royal guard and sneer at you from what is, for all intents and purposes, your living room door. It must be frustrating. To wield such power and watch it all unravel in the face of a pipsqueak 1/15th your size. A bouncy little flea who hops out of the way of your earth-shattering attacks. Who chugs a health potion every time he scrubs his knee, while your wounds seep and fester. Who is essentially killing you by poking your ankle with a toothpick three hundred times.
It must be painful.
This is the killer pitch of Nefarious: to finally see it from the other side. Lots of games have thrust the player into the role of the bad guy, but never with such direct intention. You’re not just any bad guy, you’re an SNES-era platformer boss and your nemesis is a dollar store knock-off Mega Man. You’re the unfair final boss of a turn-based RPG, flaunting your statistically superior to-hit chance and massive HP pool. You’re the stuff of strategy guides and late-night Power Line calls. They built an industry to stop you.
Sadly, this is only the pitch. Nefarious tries hard and there is a lot of heart at the core of this game, but it fundamentally fails to live up to its promise in a way that is hard to forgive.
via destructoid http://ift.tt/2jOnTJM