34: Telltale Texas Hold ’em

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Deep in the bowels of Telltale HQ, where they somehow create one passable adventure game every month, dialogue is mined on an industrial scale. There’s huge spoil heaps of nouns, intense chemical verb refinement and the never-ending quest to split the infinitive. There’s vast banks of writers, chained to their desks, whipped remorselessly by a man in a black hood. In the background you can hear nothing but crying and the steady, pounding sound of the drums of adventure, huge cow-skinned cylinders that are struck to the beat of iambic pentameter. When one of these hardy, grimy souls unearths a pile of raw dialogue ore, he must measure it, weigh it, and write this information down in the Great Book. An army of clerks scour over the Great Book, searching for the great, the good, the alright, and the awful, categorising appropriately. The great is sent immediately to the frontlines of adventure, to shore up a hole-ridden plot. The good is polished and sent with equal haste, to add colour and character to a drab and sterile scene. The alright is kept on file, used to fill gaps where silence would be unacceptable, a sort of verbal polyfilla. And the awful? The awful is flushed into the gutters that surge past those rows of desks, into a mighty drain. None knew where this heap of oral shit went, they were just glad that it went away. None knew, that is, until today.

For even deeper in the bowels of Telltale HQ lies a man with no hair on one side of his body, with massive goggles instead of eyes, a man who greets the torrent of terrible dialogue flooding past him with a manic glee. Just as one day somebody decided they were going to use reconstituted bone offal to make burgers, this man decided he was going to use these offcuts of language to make a game. He would charge $8.99 for it. He is history’s greatest monster, and he had created Telltale Texas Hold ’em.

“Join poker’s most outspoken players for a hand of Telltale Texas Hold’em, the card game stacked high with personality. Quips will fly, chips will fall, and you may just end up rolling in the aisles.”

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Or, more accurately, “It’s a game where you play terrible poker against plasticene people who won’t shut the fuck up”. Every check, every raise, every fold, every win, every loss. There is no multiplayer, there are no modes, there’s no other opponents, there’s just the incessant chirping of the 4-piece choir of the damned and the hope that the future will not contain this game.

0 stars, 30 minutes played.

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