Do the milkshake the milkshake do the shake
Fruit. They’re pious fuckers. “We’re so full of vitamins, minerals and fibre and shit, we make you see better, we stop you getting scurvy...”. Blah blah – pithy, pippy, pulpy pricks. You’re not the only sources of healthy stuff, so shut the hell up.
Or, why not shut them the hell up yourself? Yep, Halfbrick have known the score for a while with their portable fruit slashing escapades, and now it’s time to get all ginsu ninjitsu on the big mofo screen.
If you’re unfamiliar, read the last paragraph again. Fruit’s chucked about and you slash it up. That’s it – mouth breathing’s harder to master.
There’s arcade mode (time stress and bonus bananas), classic (survive without slashing three kaboomy balls (OK, ‘bombs’)) and zen (90 seconds of bomb-free a-slashination). Want to step up the Three Stooges-like physical comedy? Two can play simultaneously. The keyword here’s “ouch!” – or possibly “Why-I-youghta!”.
Fruit Ninja has, unapologetically, never been deep, rather something you can slash and burn for a couple of minutes then get on with existing. It’s the same here, just fiddlier to set up. Still, once going it’s a fab, affordable party backgrounder, with peeps able to go fruit saladistic sadistic before carrying on with the flirting, imbibing, chundering and such.
Whereas on iStuff fingers are your deadly bladey weapons, here it’s full body – the ‘Kinect’ in the title perhaps a spoiler. As such, your Kinect-nabbed live silhouette’s plopped onscreen and you flail arms to go hacky on those varmint fruitses. We’re not sure if you’re supposed to, but when we missed the odd strawbererry and it was about to exit, stage bottom we often managed to catch it with a swift kick.
Fuck damn it, this is exercise! That goody-goody fruit never gives up with the bloody healthy agenda. Smarmy bastiches.
This review originally appeared on gamesblip:
Kinda like 'blipverts' in Max Headroom,
but not as seizure-inducing.
(Reprinted with permission)
Pop culture nutter who plays lots of games and scribbles often barely intelligible nonsense about them in hope of avoiding becoming The Simpsons cat lady.