8 years ago
While masquerading as a virtual monument to a self-important blowhard and his sycophantic hype-men, upon closer inspection, Curtis Jackson's "50 Cent: Blood on the Sand" stands tall as a poignant and subversive opus, a marvelous diamond in the midst of a claustrophobic coal mine of color-by-number shooters. Whilst most gamers toil as the hollow, misguided patriot, wasting innumerable resources on a virtual nation that cares for them as little more than a statistic, informed gamers are stepping into the over-sized boots of one 50 Cent to remind the bourgeoisie that there is a limit to how far the proletariat may be oppressed. You may make us play music composed of nothing but one-syllable words amongst a desert people who can't understand them anyway; you may influence us to feel the need to paint skulls on the skin of our steroid-infused deltoids; and you may offer us small, insignificant victories, like allowing Yayo to expound upon his profuse knowledge of 15th century architecture; but we will die before we let you disgusting power hungry tyrants abscond with our hard-earned crystal skull in yet another of your Apache helicopters. Curtis Jackson sounds the cry that he, for one, will not be denied in his most commendable pursuit of stacking his paper to the ceiling; and we gamers, as both awestruck witness and capable enabler of Jackson's quest, should not be denied, either. To quote the Good Book, "Is a worker not worthy of his wages?" 50 Cent was owed a crystal skull. He is to be paid what he is owed.
yes: I recommend this product