Latest Comics

Reeking cryptids Skunkape Games, not content to merely exhume the Sam & Max classics, have now turned their profane, necrophile lust toward the beloved Poker Night At The Inventory. Inexplicably, my alter ego is featured in this game and continues to be even after these warlocks completed their dark ritual.  But we love to challenge the reader - and lies are a great way to start.

Sixteen years ago one day, I was walking down the street - you know how it is.

Fortnite oversaw the transition of Battle Royale from game to genre, and I think ARC Raiders performed the same trick for Extraction - and in a very similar way. Tarkov and PUBG are both loping, all fours, half-clad man beasts with their dicks out in a public park. Their own skin feels too tight, somehow; they're scratching themselves on the rough bark of trees just to get a moment of release. Fortnite and ARC Raiders are, by way of comparison, videogames.

I think we have to just establish - verbally, conceptually - that we have entered into a kind of vortex where traditional assumptions about the industry have been annihilated. Megafauna are collapsing under their own weight; they're loaning their treasured IP to tiny, scampering creatures so that something useful might be done with it at all. They're slicing and sectioning themselves into charcuterie boards, or tarting themselves up for handsome saviors. The return of the demo, an attempt to thumb the scale in a world where making a good game appears to be a solved problem but people knowing you exist is increasingly impossible, means I've bought more games in the last two weeks than I have in the last two years. Escapees from "triple a" have gnawed at its root, drawing from it a dark strength. Or, you know, gotten utterly annihilated. Like I said: Vortex.