Over the past few years, gaming has grown from a mostly-juvenile form of entertainment and escapism to a legitimate medium of artistic expression. Story and characters have evolved tremendously: whether you consider Bioshock’s Andrew Ryan, whose madness is chronicled through tape recordings placed conveniently throughout the failed utopia of Rapture, Half-Life 2’s (yes, Half-Life 2, specifically) Gordon Freeman, who never speaks a word, yet develops a near tangible bond with Alyx Vance, or Portal’s Glados, a maniacal A.I. who practically is the game’s story, you can’t deny that gaming — plot and character foremost — has come a long way.
Oddly enough, however, of all the colorful characters gaming has produced in the past couple of years, I find myself most drawn to the main character of a game that, for all intents and purposes, stuck its fingers in its ears and loudly sang “Lalalalalala” while other titles pushed gaming forward. The game? Devil May Cry 4. Now, I’m not saying DMC4 is a bad game; it’s an over-the-top, sword-swingin’, demon-bashing, good time. But if you can — without averting your eyes — tell me that it does anything other games in its same genre haven’t, then you probably also draw creepy, homoerotic pictures of characters from the series and sell them on Ebay, and you scare me. Now go on — shoe!
Of course, by now, anyone with even a passing knowledge of DMC, probably would’ve guessed that I’m talking about perennial uber-badass, Dante.
And they’d be wrong.
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