It doesn't even have the hilariously awful quality of previous Sonic games, like in the last one where he tried to get his little furry leg over a human girl who was probably underaged, just in case it didn't completely creep you out.
Sonic Unleashed is so bad, so utterly putrid, that I can't even get worked up about it! It falls right off the edge of my critical spectrum into the black cloying void of dispassionate loathing.
I was looking forward to a delightfully horrible game to get good and angry at, but it turns out I was disappointed. It's a fairly safe assumption that anyone who ever had any actual talent in Sonic Team has long since abandoned the company to an invading force of leprous retards who create design documents by flicking fountain pens at a pile of shredded paper. I bought Sonic Unleashed to review because I was almost certain I would hate it, and I needed something to help me unwind in the stressful Christmas period. A more appropriate word would be "hog-wolf" or "wolf-hog" although I'm not sure he's even supposed to be a wolf, because wolves don't usually possess stretchy arms or run around ripping off God of War. During the night, you turn into a werehog - which, as I've been quick to remind everyone with assuredly insufferable smugness, is a misnomer! Because the word "werewolf" drives from the old English word "wer" meaning "man", so "man-wolf". During the day, you're lovable, drug-crazed has-been normal Sonic. You get to explore various thinly disguised countries of the world in either the day or the night. The particular substance Sonic is abusing this time around is dual world gameplay, because Nintendo were all over that for a while, and Sonic is nothing if not willing to jog sweatily along about fifty feet behind the band wagon. All he needs to do now is hang himself on a doorknob while having a wank. Paul's Cathedral and grind it into a fine snortable powder, hung around with a lot of suspiciously effeminate young boys, abused a number of forbidden substances, spiraled downward as inevitably as al-Qaeda Airways, weathered a few very embarrassing attempts to regrab the spotlight, and now his shows are attended only by people's dads, who can only shake their heads in despair at the unshaven drug-addled spaz on stage whose pathetic spurts of activity masquerading as entertainment only serve to highlight both his and his audience's mutual decline into inexorable piss-dribbling old age. He fronted a succession of extremely popular titles, made enough money to buy St. Sonic the Hedgehog is sort of a rock star of the video gaming industry.
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