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MY REVIEW: Call Of Duty NaNoWriMo 2013

What is there to be said about Call of Duty? It is a war simulator, one not much unlike real war. For if, as a soldier, one were to configure their control scheme in the middle of a firefight, one would certainly find themselves dead on the ground, would they not? In this and many other ways it is an accurate representation of blood and battle. For man was meant to do harm against his brother and his brother harm against him. In the thousands of years man have lived, very few have been without war. So where does Call of Duty stand on the long list of current video games wherein the subject is, or pertains, to the subject of WAR?

I submit that it does.

There are many guns in the new Call of Duty. There are dog companions. These companions can be utilized at the WHIM of the user in order to attack and defeat the enemy. A boundary has been crossed; the Woman is now allowed to partake in the war. She brazenly stands amidst the fire of battle wearing only a ponytail to protect her from the MANY BULLETS that traverse the atmosphere of the digital field. The brazen woman is a post-modern feminist of the highest degree. This is a great change for the Call of Duty series that plunges it into the morass of modernity.

So far I have been enjoying the game. I sit back in a slight recline, controller tightly clamped between white knuckled fingers. The tension causes my anus to clench. My teeth grit down to the roots. The bag of Cheetos sits STALE on the counter from NEGLECT; the excitement is too much to bear. But then the ringing on my ears begins. It increases in volume, gradually, until it reaches excruciating heigh

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The congressman stood on the podium. The people were clapping. The one armed man stared at him from the crowd; he could feel his sweat drops being probed by the mans wandering blue eye. As he made his promises, the crowd erupted in uproarious applause. His stomach turned at the sight of an old shriveled woman, with Beelzebub grin; a mouthful of yellowed teeth.

The one armed man walked towards him. Droplets of stress water leaked down to his lower extremeties, and collected in the folds between his fat stomach; folds created by years of sedentary relaxation; a metaphor for his lack of inactivity on office. The one armed man knew this, and pointed the bloody stub of his arm in his direction. Flashes, erotic images, passed through the mans mind. He felt his cock twinge, slightly, going half erect.

"YOU DID IT IT WAS YOU" The one armed man doth spake.

And then the congressman knew; the wife. The woman at the bar.

It was the one armed mans wife, all along. And soon, he would pay for his sins.



The primary method of Game Play in Call of Duty Ghost is to engage in a multiplayer affair over an internet connection with anonymous, young, supple opponents. Smooth skinned ten year olds will yell at you viciously through microphone, their innocence taken from them with the age of anonymity. The Decline of the West comes full circle with this realization, as a panic seizes your heart; this is not the way the world is meant to be. But play on you will. Your pathetic attraction to material things and entertainment demands your full participation.

A Hollywood movie mentality penetrates the entire experience, swabbing it with wet, Michael Bay inspired pre-cum. You wonder about life, for a moment; is this what it is meant to be? The game sits in bins, untouched, in stores across America as dust collects in the folds of the cheap plastic used to wrap it. A Best Buy employee stands on the top of a ladder and screams, emptying his bowels on to the SD card rack below.

My head aches. The throbbing will not stop. When will these penetrating screams s=jj


"This is the city you helped to create."

The burning image of lady Theotokos, imprinted on a bottle of Absolut Vodka the congressmen had been wrapping his fat, wormy lips around, had guided him into the alley way between the nightclub and the bowling alley. There were cats, everywhere. Cats, pawing at one another, chewing the matted fur from their paws; fucking in the dark. A tabby opened it's gaping maw, and made several loud wailing sounds, and the head of a rat began to poke its way out. Suddenly, dozens of cats were giving birth to dozens of rats, orally; the rats left streaks of slime behind them as they scurried into the darkness.

A homeless man was seen, masturbating furiously in the dark, clenching his manhood with a filth stained hand.

He winked at the congressman, who vomited upon himself and passed out on the pavemen


In short, Call of Duty is a limited experience, a microcosm of our falling society today. It would receive a score, but numbers are unbecoming as the summation of the full experience. It will make you question your resolve to subsist in the modern world. You will be tested, physically, and mentally. And like many of your peers, you will fail to transcend the experience.

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About Joel Petersonone of us since 8:14 AM on 11.07.2013

I write the things other people don't write, with liberal fart jokes thrown in for good measure. I like old games, old computers, old consoles, and old pizza.

Here are some blogs what I done did and were promoted to the front page.

Location: The Cold And The Beautiful

The Great Quest of Stupid

Fathers Day

I Have No VR And I Must Scream