The Hangover is the story of you. You awake in your apartment with an unknown women and your bank informing you that you changed your name last night. The goal? Get the approval form in triplicate to get the name on your debit card changed!
I knew it was only a matter of time before my bank opened a branch in my apartment. That would have been really convenient like five years ago, before I started doing all my banking online.
Also, I really want a t-shirt now with a little cartoon Jesus holding a Bible and speech-ballooning “This is the story of me!” Oh, wait, maybe I mean a cartoon whale and a copy of Moby Dick?
Also also, what the hell is a conine? Oh, it’s a poisonous alkaloid occuring in hemlock, according to the 1911 edition of the Encyclopedia Brittanica, which did not apparently give two shits about readability for the layman. “Whilst the benzoyl derivative is oxidized by potassium permanganate to benzoyl-a-aminovaleric acid” my Aunt Fanny.
Mostly Spoiler-Free Upshot: Yeeeeah. This game is not very good, and it’s not even not very good in new and interesting ways. It’s your garden-variety badly-written typo-laden untested underimplemented poorly-thought-out terrible horrible not-very-good game. I can’t even get excited about being mean to it. My hope is that the author is simply too young to have developed a taste level, and will eventually get better.
[spoilers begin here]
Pissy Little Sausages 