Posted by Sir Cucumber at on Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Now that’s what I’m talking about! If I’m gonna spend ten hours with my arms outstretched clawing at two horribly painful controllers until I have to guzzle rapid-release Tylenol and lay flat on my back, it might as well be for a title that actually takes advantage of this revolutionary new motion-sensitive gaming technology, instead of cheaply re-purposed multi-platform crap.



Except for the three-dimensional bone rotation. I don’t do well with the three-dimensional bone rotation. In eighth grade I had to put a bunch of pegs in holes for some lady with a stopwatch to get a psychological exemption from wood shop before Mr. Cirillo flunked me for repeatedly failing to make a box. So I do appreciate continuously variable difficulty levels and have no qualms about using it.



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Spatial retardation and an instinctual avoidance of excruciating pain are why I played the first Trauma Center on my DS, and as enjoyable as I find this game I wouldn’t be suffering through it if it hadn’t been Doomeru’s holiday gift to me. I got him one of these, but don’t tell him because I didn’t order it until realizing he’d bought me something so it hasn’t arrived yet.



Anyway, what I love about this game, besides the impossibly inane plot and dialogue, is that it’s really fucking hard. I’m no Dr. House, nor even Dr. Turk, but I imagine the satisfaction- not to mention complete and total exhaustion- I feel after finally finishing a level (on the ninth attempt) is about a fraction of what an ER surgeon must feel from finishing a day without killing anyone or getting sued. Minus the shitty hours and constant risk of infection, of course.



But getting back to the inane plot and dialogue- why is it that every single person who comes into contact with these magical doctors inevitably gets sick and has to be operated on? What aren’t they telling us about this “healing touch?”



And, you crazy fucking japs, its one thing for a lonely misunderstood Solid Snake to be constantly jabbering at anyone foolish enough to give him their radio frequency and something else entirely for doctors to stop and deliver long-winded soliloquies about their drive to save lives while their patients are cut open and bleeding to death on the table.



Now watch my Trauma Center Montage!









