Home Upcoming Reviews About
Ethos and Riddles talk about video games...
            Can you handle it?
by Ethos

Call Me Lameish – Game of the Year 2010

Sunday, January 2nd, 2011

May I have the envelope please…

On a more personal note, thanks to everyone who’s voiced their support for the Call Me Lameish video series. Since I signed on with this venerable troop of misfits earlier in the year, it’s made all the difference in my motivation to continue writing and producing the best content I can. See you in 2011.


Call Me Lameish: Grab Bag the First

Monday, November 29th, 2010

Call Me Lameish – Donkey Kong Returns Review (Welcome to the Jungle…)

Monday, November 22nd, 2010

Ethos and I had a chance to get together and return to Donkey Kong Country.

It was fun.

Anything else you hear about our time together is filth.

Dirty, slanderous filth.


Call Me Lameish – Force Unleashed 2 Review

Monday, November 8th, 2010

Additional comments:

1. Whenever you take a hit, Starkiller grunts/whines like and Jack Russel Terrier with a cleft pallet. It sucks.

2. I wouldn’t have made it as far as I did if not for the hidden Guybrush costume. That helped.

Call Me Lameish – Fable 3 Review

Monday, November 1st, 2010

“An objective and impersonal comparison of Deathspank and Fable 3.”

Certain parties, who shall remain nameless for the sake of tact, would have you believe that to know one action RPG is to know them all. I would hope that a careful cross-examination of my previous review with this one would reveal to even the dimmest of viewers the reasons why this simply is not so. For any unfortunate souls whom these plain facts escape, here is a much abbreviated list:

1. John Cleese

2. Art Style

3. A Story

4. DnD Jokes

5. John Cleese

The list goes on and on of course, with Mr. Cleese’s name appearing at regular intervals.

Here are my impressions of Fable 3. Enjoy.

Call Me Lameish – The “Virtue” of Hardcore Mode

Monday, October 25th, 2010

When I heard Fallout: New Vegas was going to offer a “Hardcore Mode”, the particular gland in my body that harbors my perversion for masochistic challenge swelled with anticipatory trembling. In HxC, the simulation of post apocalyptic survival becomes brutally accurate and unforgiving. Your character must be fed, hydrated, and well rested if they hope to survive their sojourn over the irradiated plains of the Mojave Dessert. Failure to sate these integral human appetites will result in crippling handicaps that leave you limping across the sands like a wounded fawn, the likely prey of any number of ravenous, disfigured, nuclear-abominations.

Shit gets real.

Naturally, this sort of masochistic dogma isn’t one the vast purchasing public subscribes to when it comes to how they spend their leisure hours, so HxC is optional. I contend, however, that anybody playing the game on “regular” mode is doing himself or herself a great disservice. Consider the following anecdote:

To ensure a nice humble onset from which you can enjoy the fulfilling process of character development, you begin your existence in the universe of New Vegas by GETTING SHOT IN THE HEAD. I awoke to the face of a man who had been kind enough to fish the bits of bullet out of my skull. I can only hope he was a qualified medical practitioner. After fending off a pack of invading bandits from the town of my savior, I began my virginal foray in to the Mojave Wasteland. I soon discovered that since I had awoken atop the good doctor’s table, I hadn’t eaten a single thing. I was weak from starvation and I was marching headlong towards the men who’d put one bullet in me already. Necessity drove me towards a den of coyotes burrowed in to a rock face. Rather than risking a frontal confrontation, one that my mal-nourished husk of a body would not likely survive, I crawled through the irradiated muck on my belly and picked them off from afar.

Their meat would suffice, but there was a chance that entering the den would yield further spoils. Rifle held tight, I stepped cautiously in to their acrid lair. As my sight adapted to the shadowy hollow, I heard the hushed baying of a much smaller creature. Coyote pups, born to a more harsh and brutal world than their parents I had butchered. Cowering in a corner, the braver of the bunch bore his fangs, snarling. I looked at them and I understood for a moment that we were alike. Both of us, wide-eyed and ignorant to what fathoms the evils of this world could descend. Would our fragile selves weather these trials and continuously emerge stronger and wiser than when we had begun them? Or would some roving giant crush us without thought or emotion in the common pursuit of survival? There we both stood, huddled together in a black pit, with the frigid wind of an unforgiving world howling just past the cave’s narrow mouth.

Their meat was sweet.

In any other game where morality is a factor, butchering infants is unanimously considered nothing short of nefarious, but in New Vegas… -in Hardcore Mode, we are humbled. Morality is shown to be luxury of the entitled. While there is a difference between picking the bones of a sacked caravan and pulling the trigger point blank on a 6-month-old blind orphan, it is a subtle one. I found HxC to be an examination of poverty and moral relativism. It allows the players to find their own answer to the question: in a nation of have-nots, is theft still a crime?

New Vegas has successfully created one of the most effective interactive story-telling experiences of the post-apocalyptic genre. You walk from your shelter in to a world where morality and ethics were vaporized along with the highways and high-rises of the old world. For the second time in its existence, America is once again a frontier; an untamed wilderness steeped in constant, un-sleeping peril. It is against this lawless backdrop that the game then hands the pen to you, the player, and bids you answer the question: what happens next? When civilization is erased and the contemporary human entity steps out to have their eyes stung by the dawn of a new day, will we prove that we have extricated ourselves from the destructive, base compulsions of our evolutionary infancy? Or will our delusions of reason as being the only definitive characteristic of our species be brought to a violent and humbling end?

New Vegas shows us that as a species, we are capable of both, but in our medium,

it all depends who’s playing the game.

Call Me Lameish will return next Monday  with a fully illustrated review of Fable 3.

Call Me Lameish – Enslaved: Odyssey to the West Review

Tuesday, October 19th, 2010

Once again, my apologies for the tardiness.

Only hours before making this post, I turned in the $75 EB Games gift card my parents were nice enough to get me for my birthday, and got my hot little hands on my very own irradiated little copy of Fallout: New Vegas. I’ve yet to extricate the new and exciting fetid aromas of the Capital Wasteland from their vaguely sexual, cellophane bondage. I’ll be providing a detailed report on my body’s various responses to said aromas on next week’s CML. For now, here’s what I thought of Enslaved: Journey to the West.


An Obligatory Consolation

Monday, October 11th, 2010

To any and all who have recently learned the definition of, and become the subsequent victim of a Turkey Dump: my most sincere and heartfelt condolences. Keep close to heart, the fact that life is long and the next four years will be a veritable wilderness of toga parties, keggers, and other bold-faced challenges to your liver. They will leave you dehydrated, grease-hungry, and just a bit more world-weary. Take time to grieve, but when it comes time to leave the shelter of your former bedroom that your parents have maintained should you crumble under the weight of Academia and tumble back in to their ever-loving arms, hold your chin high, clutch tightly your red plastic cup, and remember that Call Me Lameish is here to listen to your squalid blubberings every Monday, for about three and a half minutes or so.


A Maiden Voyage.

Monday, October 4th, 2010

Don’t panic.

My name is Lameish, and this the flagship episode of my new editorial series, “Call Me Lameish”.

Riddles and Ethos are still very much in charge, but in the din of this website’s deafening, un-seen machinations, it has become necessary to employ a number of subservient underlings in order to facilitate the sating of your ever-swelling appetites. I am the most recent twittering (strictly in the archaic sense) homunculus to have entered their employ.

We hope you will enjoy.