Review: Moron Mission

[Fenrir-Lunaris]

Terror. Shock, and terror. A world lacking sense or reason, where walls are floors and ceilings furniture. A world where men are poorly done palette swaps of each other and an eerie inappropriate music wafts through the air as though borne by the shrill whine of a thousand off-key flutes. Enter the world of Moron Mission, and mind that bloodied inconsequential pulp behind you on the floor as you enter. That's what's left of your sanity. You won't be needing it here.

We enter this game and are suddenly thrown into a world that for all intents and purposes is Vikings of Midgard, albeit with the tiles scrambled. We can tell because it uses the exact same opening sequence of panning across some trees and then up the side of a building. Except the trees and the buildings have become... an inexplicable blob of floor tiles and portraits of Joe from Arfenhouse. This is the story of armless men with no pants, who must go on to preach the gospel to the heathen masses.

The game gets stranger from this point on.

Our missionary, who is Frumpy but with a green collar and a different name, enters a room built of train tracks and god knows what else. The lost souls wandering around offer no help, so our missionary journeys north through what I assume is a wall into the familiar hall of Odin. Now I'll admit I like furry characters, but these are vile, twisted mockeries of the lovable characters they once were, threatening our missionary with castration and death. Swell. So we're off to prove the resurrection of Christ to these heathens by finding "proof".

So we then enter the world outside with gaping holes in the terrain where the sprite sheet has collapsed in on itself. It would appear the Langoliers got here first, and chewed great gaping holes in the landscape. It's more or less un-navigatable unless you're intimately familiar with VoM again. NPCs run around as always, being unhelpful and unfriendly. I managed to work my way to the Inn, where I was greeted by a familiar elder god. I asked him how things were and even stayed the night, mostly to humor him. I am quite surprised he didn't try to stab me in the back, but I knew this was a one-way trip, and I would not be coming this way again.

Somehow I managed to work my way east, where the scenery grew somewhat recognizable. A few weak encounters with enemies gave me strength enough to go onwards until I discovered a Rupee from the Legend of Zelda. I trudged back through the town and couldn't figure out where else to go. Something about Bob the Hamster, some werewolf on human action, and that convinced me it was time to go. I had seen enough. There were no guilt pangs in doing so, no further interest to stir me on.

There will come stronger men than I. Men who delight in path-finding unrecognizable terrain, and charting a course through what might be better off as pitch blackness. Men who will complete this unto the end, if there is one.

[King-BBB]

Not worth the space on my computer and thats just sad.