Gamers, sensitive creatures that they are, are disappointed more often than alchemists who poison themselves blind and deranged in their tireless search for gold.

Our exhausted brains clench in disgust at every offensive new sequel or relentless remake. It's what gives us our charming vitriol, which is the source of Florian's savage dominion over his crowd of nubile groupies, or "Florites".

It was therefore with relish that I consumed "Downward Spiral: Game Series That Jumped the Shark" over on Games.net. In regards to my darling Twisted Metal:

But the magic was wearing thin by the third installment, which piled on disappointment after disappointment. The bouncy new physics system meant that the slightest breeze could flip over your car, while the newly-nerfed arsenal meant that rockets became about as damaging as spitballs. The result? Competitive matches that drug on for hours at a time, set to ear-splitting industrial noise (thank you, Rob Zombie).

And who tops the list? Bond. James Bond. It was all downhill from Goldeneye, my friends. Eliza gauger

Downward Spiral: Game Series that Jumped the Shark [ Games.net]

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