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When you sit down and clasp your nervous hands around the smooth plastic of your Xbox or Playstation controller for the first time, switching on Assassins Creed by carefully clicking in the power button on your Xbox or running your finger sleekly over the power button on your Playstation console, a nervous sweat will bead on your forehead, in anticipation of playing this game which, like so few games these days, has been hyped so much that you are almost certain that it will be the best game of the year, a year in which so many other good games were released, a year of highs and lows, but perhaps more highs than lows, because you can feel from the moment you unwrap the plastic from your copy of the game that it will, like so few games these days, ask the important questions; How is this happening? What are they? Why them and not others? Why now? What does it all mean?’, and perhaps this is the game that will answer them, like an eager child quietly and quickly marking his choices for correct answers on his G C S E exam, worrying about his future and whether Assassins Creed will still be there when he arrives home from the exam, nervously scribbling away and thinking about placing the game disc in the tray of his Xbox or sliding it smoothly into the disc acceptance hole of his Playstation, hearing the whirring of the drive belt as it spins the disc and the almost inaudible machinations of the laser as is scurries quickly along its runner , reading the data on the disc and converting it into the loading screen of the game, which promises so much; futuristic graphics; a captivating storyline which grips you like a nervous hand grips a Xbox or Playstation controller for the first time, and the endless questions which run around inside your head as you play through the game, wondering why it’s all the same, wondering if you’re accidentally just playing the opening level over and over again, wondering if at any point the game will actually get good, wondering why the guards have such supersonic hearing, like bats which can detect you, their prey, despite not being able to see you, unless you decide to hide, like a hibernating badger, in the numerous carts filled with soft, wheaty hay, which hides so many insects and other miniscule creatures, like a sort of parallel, yet tiny universe to which you, as Altair the Assassin of some guy’s genetic memory, has access while he hides from the short-lived search of the guards of so many identical ancient middle eastern cities, cities teeming with swathes of identical citizens, including old women who will beg you for money or food like a child begs eagerly for a Christmas present in his list to Father Christmas, that most jolly of fictional figures who resides in our genetic memory like some mythical assassin of the tenth century, running across the rooftops without any effort or input from the player at all, repeating the same 15 minute routine over and over again until he collapses from sheer boredom, just because the games designers decided that the graphics were more important than including any actual game on the disc of either your Xbox or Playstation, consoles which promise so much and yet are home to so many duff games, leading to so much disappointment and crying of a night like an orphaned child who must endure the painful existence of living in a Victorian workhouse, or working for a master thief like some fictional character of the great novels of some Charles Dickens, evolving slowly like a pokemon like Martin Skrtel, documented in the annals of Charles Darwin, that most famous of tenth century assassins, who was featured in a much better game about running and jumping and fighting in the medieval Middle East, which was called Prince of Persia, but not its sequels because they were awful.
4/10
So I think I agree with you, but it's kinda hard to tell seeing as your review is one veeery long sentence! :P
When you sit down and clasp your nervous hands around the smooth plastic of your Xbox or Playstation controller for the first time, switching on Assassins Creed by carefully clicking in the power button on your Xbox or running your finger sleekly over the power button on your Playstation console, a nervous sweat will bead on your forehead, in anticipation of playing this game which, like so few games these days, has been hyped so much that you are almost certain that it will be the best game of the year, a year in which so many other good games were released, a year of highs and lows, but perhaps more highs than lows, because you can feel from the moment you unwrap the plastic from your copy of the game that it will, like so few games these days, ask the important questions; How is this happening? What are they? Why them and not others? Why now? What does it all mean?’, and perhaps this is the game that will answer them, like an eager child quietly and quickly marking his choices for correct answers on his G C S E exam, worrying about his future and whether Assassins Creed will still be there when he arrives home from the exam, nervously scribbling away and thinking about placing the game disc in the tray of his Xbox or sliding it smoothly into the disc acceptance hole of his Playstation, hearing the whirring of the drive belt as it spins the disc and the almost inaudible machinations of the laser as is scurries quickly along its runner , reading the data on the disc and converting it into the loading screen of the game, which promises so much; futuristic graphics; a captivating storyline which grips you like a nervous hand grips a Xbox or Playstation controller for the first time, and the endless questions which run around inside your head as you play through the game, wondering why it’s all the same, wondering if you’re accidentally just playing the opening level over and over again, wondering if at any point the game will actually get good, wondering why the guards have such supersonic hearing, like bats which can detect you, their prey, despite not being able to see you, unless you decide to hide, like a hibernating badger, in the numerous carts filled with soft, wheaty hay, which hides so many insects and other miniscule creatures, like a sort of parallel, yet tiny universe to which you, as Altair the Assassin of some guy’s genetic memory, has access while he hides from the short-lived search of the guards of so many identical ancient middle eastern cities, cities teeming with swathes of identical citizens, including old women who will beg you for money or food like a child begs eagerly for a Christmas present in his list to Father Christmas, that most jolly of fictional figures who resides in our genetic memory like some mythical assassin of the tenth century, running across the rooftops without any effort or input from the player at all, repeating the same 15 minute routine over and over again until he collapses from sheer boredom, just because the games designers decided that the graphics were more important than including any actual game on the disc of either your Xbox or Playstation, consoles which promise so much and yet are home to so many duff games, leading to so much disappointment and crying of a night like an orphaned child who must endure the painful existence of living in a Victorian workhouse, or working for a master thief like some fictional character of the great novels of some Charles Dickens, evolving slowly like a pokemon like Martin Skrtel, documented in the annals of Charles Darwin, that most famous of tenth century assassins, who was featured in a much better game about running and jumping and fighting in the medieval Middle East, which was called Prince of Persia, but not its sequels because they were awful.
4/10