"Notice the beautiful symmetry between the player's car and Wolf's, as the two drivers engage in a Kafka-esque battle to avoid the social alienation afforded to the defeated and broken loser. The smoke trails from the tyres are the billowing transparency of the human soul, a soul this game sets free to disseminate and soar high upon the wind and look down on this cacophony of colour from the heavens above. The cones stand by, silently and ominously regarding the action as dread, brave sentries that serve as a symbolic reminder of past glorious and a Byzantine warning of what may threaten the unwary and the complacent. To play OutRun2 is to live and breathe again! To love and be set free by love!"
The windmill. Symbol of industry, its firm shoulders supporting the blades which once fanned the flames of a thousand fallen empires. See how it gazes and smiles, its comforting, eternal presence negating the transient nature of the game experience, simultaneously enthralling and reassuring the player of their part in this glorious history. The windmill speaks not, but sees everything, turning its wings to the blue sky and absorbing all that happens. Should you pass through the windmill's shadow, you shall never be forgotten. Your heart shall never die as long as the mighty wind powers the turbines of this land's heart. Your driving shall be recorded on the millstones that transcend all time and shall be replayed as long as the wind blows. Go! Drive faster, young spirit! Your time here is so brief. So very brief.
The fleeting and precious nature of life is epitomised by the ever-ticking Checkpoint timer. 58! 57! Rush, young thing, for your life is short and before you know it shall be in its autumn years. 56! 55! Quicken your mind and heart, open your eyes and bathe in the light and colour that fills even the darkest winter day. 54! 53! Hurry, my sweet! For your tender arms shall know no other embrace once the time limit on your stay here reaches the zero hour. 52! 51! Drive! Set yourself free and live for every joyous second! Do not pause or rest! Rush fast and see everything at 148 miles an hour! Be fast! Hitch up thy breasts! Depress thy clutch! Force thy pedal to the floor as hard as is humanly possible! Don't let sadness overtake your dreams.
The blood-red car shines, its liquid skin reflecting the sins of its owner. Is this corner the last one you shall take, or does it lead to a warm bath of victory and ever-lasting adulation? Our heart burns, our fingers bleed, our minds full of danger and revenge. To be safe is good enough, but to be dangerous gorges the spirit within! Push the limits! Embrace death, for you shall meet it one way or another, and to crash and burn in a beautiful manner is surely the end you deserve! To kill or be killed? What evil lurks in the mind of your competitor? One shall burn, one shall stand triumphant. History will not record the manner of the fight, only the victor. Ram thy opponent into the embrace of the barriers! Fashion your own destiny! The meek will only be remembered by the cowardly.
A site about games and game paraphernalia and how nothing's as good as we remember it, probably because we used to inhabit a FANTASY WORLD.
What are we half-heartedly skimming RIGHT NOW?
Each post .02% worse than the last.
THE HTML ERAS
When men used to till the pages by hand.
12 years of wheat and chaff in one vast and impenetrable mass.
Some updates weren't universally hated by the entire world within seconds of being uploaded.
Links to that blog of yours you started up and were excited about for a whole weekend.
Some people we might've MET. Or at least seen in a room and been near.
Other sites we are happy to officially endorse without requiring Adwords spend.
Having one is compulsory, apparently. Ours is here. It is not meant to be funny.
People off the internet. Quality and commitment levels may vary.
It came with the template. Maybe in 2014 we'll jump on board the Twitter train and put that in here. Or a radio. That'd be nice.