Right, that's it. You know, I've played a lot of weird, crazy, messed up and downright awful games, but I've reached my limit. I've had enough - I have been broken. You win, Internet; you've finally beaten me.
After more than two years, I've realised just how pointless my reviews really are. In fact, I could probably say my very existence, and the existence of all other beings in the cosmos, are equally unimportant. Because in my search for a bad game to review this week, I hit the mother lode. I came across a game that just might be the single worst piece of data on the Internet.
Worse than 2 Girls 1 Cup. Worse than Goatse. Worse than Manga Watchmen slash. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the apex of bad. This is Platform Robot 2.
What you see in these screenshots? That is the game. That is all of the game, contained in just a few simple images. Just looking at these pictures angers me. OK, so you control a passport photo in a really bad MS Paint world that consists of one room. Who is that guy? Why is he staring into my soul like that? Stop it, strange man! Stop it!
I think I may be suffering from some kind of mental breakdown. My brain has decided that it doesn't like the images my eyes are sending it and has decided instead to use memories of puppies running around a garden to the sounds of the Banana Splits theme. I don't think I'm alone, either; here are examples of the comments that have been left for Platform Robot 2:
"This is not a game. Do you own a gun? buy one; kill yourself."
"im so scared ;["
"You Sir, are a genius."
- Magical Zorse
Platform Robot 2 is kind of like the video tape from Ring - you play it, and then several days later you collapse into a quivering heap, mentally devolving to the state of an infant as you ponder the time you gave this game. The strange middle-aged man creeps out of your monitor to steal your life force, which is then used to promote the game on other websites. It's a vicious cycle that will never, ever end. In five billion years the Sun will explode and die and the only thing in the entire Solar System to survive will be an external hard drive containing the complete works of Emily Dickinson and Platform Robot 2.
I don't know how I'm supposed to review this game when there's nothing to review. If you fall off the platforms or the ground or even just walk to the edge of the screen the weird man falls off and disappears. The only thing you can do is reload the page, asking yourself, "Why are you reloading the page!? What's wrong with you!?"
The answer, of course, is that you've been sucked in. You've finally discovered a game so bad that it makes you want to punch orphans and you can't take your eyes away. It's like when 9/11 happened and every news network on the planet continuously showed that footage of the second plane hitting the South Tower - it made you sick to your stomach watching it, but you still watched it, trapped in a state of unfathomable shock. Platform Robot 2 is the 9/11 of online games.
Naturally Geirki, the creator of this abomination, had something to say to all the haters:
"FOR EVERYONE COMMENTING ON THIS: Nobody ever said you HAD to play this and I am trying to make an actual game but I don't know how. I am currently learning how, anyone that would like to help with that process, please leave a SHOUT on my page"
So what we have here is a person barely capable of writing a "Hello World!" program uploading their half-ass attempt at a platform game on an unsuspecting world and getting upset when the world doesn't electronically fellate their genius. Well, I've got a shout for you, Geirki - YOU RUINED MY LIFE! You took my very being and put it through the God damn wringer! I will hunt you down with dogs and then I will shove pineapples into every orifice in your body!
But just when you think it can't get any worse, you remember that this game is called Platform Robot 2.
As in, the sequel.
Oh God! It's the exact same game! It's the exact same game!
Geirki made the same game twice!
OK, I'm done. I... I just don't know anymore. I don't know what makes sense now. I need to be alone for a while. I'll be back next week, but... I don't even know why.