The original Serious Sam became an unexpected hit when it received the approval of Old Man Murray. While other games were trying to be dark and mature, Serious Sam reveled in pure, goofy run-and-gun action. It was like Duke Nukem if it was made by a backwoods folk artist. This sequel is somewhat of a technological upgrade, but the art design still looks like the work of someone just learning how to use 3-D Studio Max, and that is the game's charm. The enemies range from run-of-the-mill space marines to exploding clowns to giant cigar smoking mechanical T-rexes.
Well, this is a Zelda game. The formula has remained unchanged ever since The Ocarina of Time. The princess has been abducted and you must work your way through the various dungeons one-by-one, collecting a new power in every dungeon. Each game in the series introduces a new game-play element. In the case of Skyward Sword that is its (supposedly) precise motion controls.
Skyward Sword requires the use of the Wii MotionPlus controller. While it's definitely an improvement over other games that have tried to use the standard WiiMote as a sword, you still end up just flailing your arms like an idiot. The key here is to realize that the game is forgiving enough to allow you actually to take your time and be precise for many of the bigger battles.
The story is implausible and Nick Cage is as ridiculous as ever, but the stylish direction makes this an entertaining thriller. It opens with a ten minute long shot and keeps bouncing back to that same moment in the plot to show different perspectives. Once the baddies are established things quickly fall apart but by then I was invested in whatever little plot there was.
My copy was bought used and man-o-man does it smell musty. The odor is, at best, like a stack of old newspapers in the dampest bayou floodplain basement, or, at worst, the bouquet of the finest Trader Joe's wine. I'm not sure if the author's intent was make his readers recoil in disgust, but, if it was, mission accomplished. Okay, it's unfair for me to judge a book by the way it smells, and, as we all know, a book's scent is not set by the author. It's set by the publisher. Damn you Crown Publishers, Inc.!