In case you missed it, Seth Schiesel of the New York Times called Dragon Age: Origins “perhaps the best electronic game yet made” today (as opposed to The Beatles: Rock Band, which he called “the most important video game yet made“). We’ve been following Dragon Age as well – the dwarven metalworker-related strike, for one, and also the unfortunate condition of the over-blooded citizens of Ferelden – but we can’t help but wonder when Schiesel will finish his piece on “when there will be a Mad Men of videogames“.

The Canadian developers’ party. Srsly.

To the folks at [GAME COMPANY], let me first say I’ve [-ED VERB] all your previous games. For years, I’ve pre-ordered every new [ORIGINAL GAME CO.] title from [GAME SHOP], and I’ve appreciated the accompanying swag, particularly the [-ED VERB] edition [GAME CHARACTER] key chain. Unfortunately, the recent changes you’ve made to the [GAME] franchise have lost you a [NOUN].

I know, I know, [THOUGHT TERMINATING CLICHÉ]. But how can you provide us with so many brilliantly localized [NATIONALITY] [GENRE] games, titles with plenty of [ADJECTIVE] Menus and [ADJECTIVE] Inventory Systems, then 180 your lineup for a [CONSOLE] title featuring an adorable [ANIMAL] protagonist` and [NUMBER] mini-games?

[INTERJECTION], I understand that [ORIGINAL GAME CO.]’s CEO, [CELEBTRITY GAME EXEC] hopes to [VERB] the casual market, but what about the [NOUN]-gamer? Why must you suddenly ape [MAINSTREAM GAME], when your fans demand more titles like my favorite RPG [MEDIVAL TORTUER DEVICE] Dungeon [NUMBER], or even the much demanded sequel to [COMIC] Vs. [OBSCURE FIGHTER]?

[EXCLAMATION]!

I hope everyone who works for you [-S VERB]. I hope your parents, your friends and your [HYPOCRISTIC] hate you forever. You’re all [PLURAL PEJORATIVE].

Pull your [BODY PART] out of your [BODY PART]. [VERB] you, you [-ING VERB] [VERB]. May you rot in [PLACE]

[SNOWCLONE].
[SCREENNAME]

P.S. I’ve enclosed [CHEMICAL]. Die twice.

I know this is late, and I apologize, but I need to amend my original Christmas wish list.  No doubt your elves have built the modded SEGA Dreamcast I so dearly wanted weeks ago, but I’m sure there’s another young man out there that would love it. Maybe Other Chris. You’re Santa Claus, you can fix it.

Here’s my new wish list.

Chris Plante’s Wish-List for X-Mas 2008
1.) Valkyria Chronicles
2.) Sam Ryan, Dead

Ok, I know it’s an unusual thing to ask for, but I have good reasons. Namely, I love Stategy RPGs. As for Sam, I believe this wish won’t be a problem. I’ve attached his address along with a picture.

Love,
Chris Plante

———————–

Dear Chris,

I’m sorry young man, but holiday wishes exclude such Scroogey things as murder. As for Valkyria, we’ll see what ol’ Santa and his elves can whip up. No promises.

Yours,
Santa

———————–

Dear Santa,

He leaves for work every day at 8:50am, and usually forgets to lock the door. After work on Tuesdays and Thursdays he goes to the gym, returns home and promptly takes a shower. His shower lacks any real grip, and can become very slippery. If you were to sneak into his apartment during the afternoon while the other tenants are at work, and spread a thin layer of baby oil over the shower’s ceramic floor the whole thing would look like an accident.

No one ever said anything about murder. Well, no one, but you, Santa.

Regards,
Chris Plante

———————–

Dear Santa,

I hate to intrude, what with the holidays only a few days away, but I need to change my Christmas wish list. Ever since I left Chris behind in the final map of No Mercy in Left 4 Dead things just haven’t been the same.  I have reason to believe he has asked you to kill me, because he told me he had asked you to kill me. This has given me perspective about what’s important this Christmas. I’ve pasted my revised Wish List below.

- Sony Playstation 3
- LittleBigPlanet
- Metal Gear Solid 4
- Sanctuary

Sincerely,
Sam

———————–
Chris,

Forget the Nice Santa bullshit, and let’s talk business.

He left u behind?! Why didn’t u tell me, man? What a total d-bag! Amirite!? Operation Johnson & Johnson is in effect.

Signed,
Anon (jk, it’s Claus… time stamped pic attached for da proofz)

———————–
Dear Chris,

Please forgive me for leaving you behind in No Mercy. I wanted to save you, but you kept dicking around and I wasn’t sure I could trust you. You ran around picking up every godamn gas can and propane tank, throwing them near me or Charlie. I think it really pissed Charlie off, but he’s kind of quiet and he wouldn’t say anything. I mean, I know it pissed him off when you told him to stand by the gas station, and then you shot it and it blew up and killed him. That was a dicky thing to do.

Yeah, you know what, fuck you. And fuck Santa, friggin’ goody-goody poser. I know he’s going to take your side because deep inside he’s a griefer, just like you. Guy gives coal to peeps, just to feel superior.

Whatevs. You should move in with him at the North Pole. You two can be as cold on the outside as you are on the inside.

Go fuck yourself,

Sam

———————–

Dear Mr. Christopher Plante,

I’ve tried to contact you by phone and have stopped by your apartment a few times, but you seem to be a tough guy to pin down. When you get a chance, please stop by the station; we’d like to ask you a few questions. We have a Mr. Claus here. It seems he tried to break into the apartment of your former roommate, Sam Ryan. Don’t worry, Mr. Ryan’s OK, but, as I said, we’d like to ask you a few questions when you get the chance.

Detective Tim Elliot

———————–

Dear Sam,

I apologize. I overreacted. Let’s be brosephs again. Left4Dead Wednesday at 8?

Chris

———————–

Yo dude,

Sounds great. I’ll invite Charlie.

Your broseph,
Sam

———————–
Dear Chris,

Please answer my calls. Jail isn’t a safe place for a pleasantly plump and blush cheeked  old man.

Please don’t tell Mrs. Claus, but when I tried to break into Sam’s I couldn’t fit through the door. I decided to grease myself with the baby oil, but that only got me stuck in the doorframe. Now the other prisoners, they can smell it. They can smell the baby oil. They treat me like a greased man toy. They call me Pickled Porky Pig.

Please help me.

Your friend,
Santa

Good morning, Chris. As you might have deduced from the emptied drawers and excavated closets, I’ve finally chosen to leave you. No doubt, this comes as a shock as you’ve always been a bit dull.

Funny, finally getting that off my chest, it recalls the many (MANY) miserable times you were just so gosh darn dull.

Like whatabout that time you took me to the cheap Italian restaurant on 3^rd street for our three-year anniversary, and when the waiter pulled out the chair for me you sat down. You sat down in my chair. And then you farted and told everyone “I was a queefer.” Do you even comprehend why that’s both rude and strange?

But your recent actions are most despicable. It has become apparent that I no longer play a role in your daily routine. You may love me, Christopher, but you’ve chosen Dreamcast.

At first it wasn’t so bad. Heck, I even enjoyed the occasional trip through San Francisco in Crazy Taxi. And I won’t deny you the fact that Sonic Adventure is the last decent Sonic game.

But Soul Calibur has three sequels, Shenmue is no longer (nor was it ever) innovative, and NFL 2K2 cannot compare to Madden 08. Grow up.

Chris, it’s time for you to be honest with yourself: you suck at 2D fighters. Yes, I know you suck, because I can beat you. And don’t say that’s because the controls are broken, and don’t say I win because I button mash. I win because Storm/Cable/Cyclops make a solid team with protective anti-air combat, a strong core, and a quick battery. You lose because you choose Wolverine, Strider, and Ryu off appearance.

Who are we kidding, Chris? I’ve been seeing someone else. Other Chris. He’s a respectful man, and very funny. You know that already because his posts always get the most hits.

Feeling inadequate, yet?

Other Chris treats me well. He has an Xbox 360—that system you were too cheap to buy us. He buys me games. New games. Nice games that I can show off to my girlfriends, and they all say, boy, I wish I had a boyfriend like Other Chris.

He doesn’t buy me used games from some tonkatsu-smelling Japanese corner shop in Chinatown. Nor does he download them off the internet and burn them to a CD-R.

He doesn’t play Beats of Rage just because it’s homebrew.

Other Chris treats me right. We got to Best Buy and they carry the products we want. We play with other friends. You had me convinced I could play with only four at a time, but you were holding me back from bigger and better things—like 16 person multiplayer.

Which brings me to my reason for dissolving our relationship. I’m sorry, but his games are bigger than yours. They have better control, they last longer, and, unlike yours, they’re smooth, not crooked and blocky. I know, I told you your games are smooth and big, but they’re not. They’re crooked and blocky and short. And rarely do I even feel like playing them to the end.

Oh, and you’ll love this. He just bought a camera for the 360. Sometimes we go online and play together in front of everyone. But I shouldn’t get into it. Let’s just say we’re in the movies.

May your life be spent between fugly Shmups,
Your Girlfriend.