The Last Express Entry #1: Jackpot

Sup!  Phil Jakes here to tell you what’s good with this week’s game: The Last Express.

As others have said, this game is from the golden age of gaming when Myst was the bleeding edge of gaming.  You were white knuckled trying to find pages while being impressed by the then state-of-the-art renderings of a tree and what looks like a door.  Full Motion Video was hot shit and made your computer stutter like a Skrillex remix.  When I was a wee lad, I remember putting my hours in trying to decide if I should get the blue pages or perhaps the red page.  Turns out that *SPOILERS ON A FIFTEEN YEAR OLD GAME* you wanted to get the pages for the green book.  For it’s time, it was cool to see.  I definitely played more Street Fighter II and Mario Kart than Myst.

That brings us to the game.  It has a basic (read confusing) interface.  It tells me there are clues everywhere!  Yet for some reason all the doors look the goddamn same.  I go in the bathroom, I leave the bathroom.  I go in the bathroom, I leave the bathroom.  Why aren’t there any towels in the bathroom?  Why can’t I clean up the hella-incriminating bloodstain on the floor of my cabin?  Why can’t I sleep through the whole trip from Paris to Istanbul? Why can’t I just run past the cops when we get to the first stop?  Why don’t I check my dead friend’s pockets for a passport?  It’s 1914, right?  I’m pretty sure they didn’t have pictures on passports then.  For a guy who’s a wanted criminal, Robert Cath doesn’t seem too smart.

So the game starts with you catching a ride from some sweet-ass ginger broad, making the leap off her motorcycle onto the train.  Since you apparently can’t be punctual for anything, your boy gets air-holed.  Also missing is a giant Cadbury egg.  Luckily, some schmuck left his/her scarf for you to sniff and jack off to later.  Dr. Cath, the main character and player avatar, takes a good long whiff and gets half a chub.  Must smell like…money, tobacco and musk.  Maybe hot sauce.  Maybe ranch dressing.  Who knows?  I certainly don’t because Cath doesn’t say shit about it.  Awesome.

The body of my boy is in the way.  What do I do with a bloody corpse?  Examine it?  Hell no!  I pick it up, thereby ruining my pimp suit with bloodstains.  After getting four game overs and getting stuck in the bathroom for twenty minutes, I discover I can’t wash my jacket.  No, I have to get the smelly old coat left by my living-disabled friend.  I unceremoniously drop his corpse out the window and put on the moth-eaten green coat, which totally doesn’t match my socks.  The porter/conductor dude informs me a Herr Schmidt wishes to see me in the dining car.  Now where the hell is the dining car?

After wandering around the train like Mr. Magoo for fifteen minutes, I discover the dining car.  I see a fine-ass lady in a fetching vagina hat and try to smooth on up in her.  She turns me down because she’s on her period or something.  I show her the scarf and she says it isn’t hers.  Whatevs.  I didn’t want to talk to you anyway.

I take a seat at Herr Schmidt’s table.  He asks about gold.  I believe this man is really into gold, because he seems pretty mad when I don’t have it.  He also has something he wants to sell me.  Whatever it is, it needs to go down after we reach Munich.  Cool.  Whatevs.  Where can a player get a drink in this place?

Turns out you can’t get a drink.  Lame.  I try to go find a TV and see if the game is on.

Advertisements

About celibob

I'm just your average streetwalking cheetah with a hide full of napalm. Just a runaway son with a nuclear A-bomb. I am a pretty bad gamer so I'm sure everyone here at the Gaming Graveyard will own me in every category. I hope to bring some pleasure to your readings.
This entry was posted in Players' Posts and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s