Thursday, 27 June 2013

Video game sleeve art comparison - Strike 3

Ah, there you are and as you're here, why not pull up a chair and make yourself comfortable.

Yes I know it's been a while since the last chunk but it matters not as you've hardly been starved of material...

I cordially invite you for light supper, a glass of milk and forgotten splashes of scrawls which on some occasions, suggest that the artists climbed the insanity tree and bumped into every twig on descent.

It's obligatory to feature international scrawls and while most are awful, some are decent and a select few are even good.

Adding bits with the bobs will demonstrate further detail and unless stated, all screens are from the arcade.

Crystal ball, crystal ball, who is the shittest of all?
Techno, Power, Domination etc,
Immortal, Twisted, Confusion etc;
What, The, Fuck etc!
Yes, this is what we need to brighten up any mood.  A salivating, psychopathic prehistoric pervert intent on bludgeoning the boy in blue with a fossilized boner.  Meanwhile, the guy in red satisfyingly sticks one on the green and finally, the blue rags of romance is failing to grasp the hint that yellow isn't in the mood for a game of 'chase me, chase me'.  The illustrator was battier than a witches broth and less stable than a hobo with a limp.
'Master'ful 'System'atic pain as these misfiring bazooka types wallow in flatulence.  This woeful fuck pile is seriously lacking in style. 
I love this one, I seriously do, like a constipated cow likes the roll call for the next run of Big Macs or Whoppers.  Ignoring the Star Destroyer hanging back in the distance, why the FUCK was a ninja sent throughout time to rescue his comrades, thus defeating the evil Gylend?  I guess he'd be great at dodging bullets in The Primitive Age and fit like a glove during Roman orgies.  I crack an embarrassed smile at such bullshit especially when... observe the sprite used in the 1987 original.  Oh, this was called Time Soldiers (despite the strange name change for the home computer versions).  Hmmm, it appears that the deadly art of research was neglected.

Don't tell me, the dude draped in animal skin is Gylend?  No, I don't wanna know...
I can't really remember Conrad having an eyepiece but this isn't really that bad with a decent assortment of pretty colours. 
A strange variation but again, not too offensive I suppose.
The original is usually the best and this doesn't rip up the form book.  You can look at this standing on your head and it still looks cool.  Well done, good show and high fives all round.
Sometimes in life, you have to take the rough with the smooth but here, we cruise with the perfunctory and putrid.
How absolutely ridiculous.  Felons come in all shapes and sizes, intellects and cunning but the final sensation that these wannabe angels will savor is missing the car completely and giving the road a fresh coat of gore.  Here's a free tip fellas, Superman can fly and while we'd all like to, we can't and never will.  The driver and passenger must have promised heaven rather than the alternative.
How the gun sparkles, unlike this depressing fountain of pig slurry.  Behind the shades lie shame and unapologetic ignominy.
A sorry slab of steak that has less dignity than a corpse with a hangover.
When in doubt, shove a generic picture of a glorified woof woof that hopes to inspire joy and hope that the pixels you play, will actually be better than the cover you hate.
The muscles ripple, the veins pop and when I hunt them down, their limbs and fingers may be left broken in several places.
Wild Thing, you make my heart sink, you make it everything and nothing, wild thing, I think I despise you, and this shit makes me know for sure.  Thanks to this, choking on phlegm now seems like an excellent way to waste the day.
Somebody should swiftly inject a brain melting, eye streaming mixed Phaal to ease the dreadful pain of this brain drain.
It tries, it fails and sucks more viciously than a straw enthusiast.
The subtlety of a silhouette is admirably captured.  
If this was one of my favourite sandwiches, this cheese needs a bit more maturity before rubbing substance with the average Stilton. 
The masked individual is fairly well drawn but is unfortunately slaughtered by a terrible mix of awkward posture and cliched attacks.  Just look at this masterful mountain of misery.
Okay, it's another example of stupendous sterility but even with the unnecessary throwing stars, at least the arcade's title screen is captured.
The symbol that rocks the cradle, is the symbol that rules the world...
Back in the late 80's, this machine greedily gobbled up several old fashioned silver pieces in seaside insert coin haunts.
Ray Davies mused 'Thank you for the Days' and while in totally different circumstances, I wholeheartedly concur.
This attempts to be mysterious but instead, rants and dribbles like a deranged loony.
We see him and he sees you but does the artist see that we're not impressed.
How many more positions can the ninja base itself around?  Well, lots and this hardly dances in the moonlight.  It falls down quicker than a one-legged ballerina pirouetting on a slippery when wet mattress. 
Fair enough, it isn't great but is a damn sight better than the blitz of bullshit that we've been forced to endure. 
Three, is a magic number but thanks to this, blue, is not a magic colour.
This brings a little light to a depressing eclipse.  
It's an armoured infiltration unit, without the gleaming sophistication or sassy style.  This asshole is notorious among assholes, even those who take pride in cleaning their respective orifice after bowel evacuation.  
Our man explodes into a hulking monster but he couldn't hope to scare an incontinent snail who lost his shell to a gang of filthy slugs. 
Wow, judging by the awards, who needs the Oscars?  On another note, I can't help thinking of Directive 4. 
Same artist, different position and no other effort deserves to polish his gyroscope, (including the garish Amiga version).
This port was synonymous as this and the arcade went practically hand in hand.  Of the topic in question, Scooter and the geezer must be questioning why matters were made to be so unbearably shitty. 
This succeeds by throwing caution to the typhoon by taking itself not too seriously.  Who needs electricity when you have these flying skulls? 
It's also quite nice that the above is largely based on the end situation. 
'From the depths of a cosmic sewer' rises an amusing tagline straight out of the alien phrase book that was created by idiots, tested by dorks.  The actual monster looks like some kind of model rather than a painting as the background is a prop.  Let me show you why this is not a random creation.

Meet his 'tail'?  You wanna see his friend?  Okay, he's not shy.

Don't be eyeing up his body and limbs as we're only interested in his head.
Is it Jason?  No it's Rick and enough variation ensured a lawsuit wasn't encouraged from those responsible for Jasonmania.  Anyway, let's have a mosey to see how the Terror Mask wearing hero laughs in the face of chaos.

YEAH BABY!!!  Take that you slithering slimeball and give my regards to Broad Street.
The dual chainsaws devastate and corrupt my soul and the representation of Rick makes matters even more laughable. 
While nothing sparkling, a bit more fluidity equals more likeability. 
Roar, growl and slobber.  Hey 'P'rick, watch out for that eight armed fiend as I think he wants a cuddle and a kiss, met with wedded bliss.  For more guffaws, just cast your eye over the habitual threat that exists in a pink xenophobe and stock spirit.  Fucking deplorable.
The mask is on, the shirt's off but Mr Bullshit is still squatting.

This is pure coincidence but because the above degredation is showing grey matter, it reminds me of a Licker from Resident Evil 2 on PS1, minus the deadly lance like tongue.  During a CG sequence, you are looking at how the ugly git is officially introduced.
I'm surprised SNK allowed Haohmuru to look this goofy.  The crest of a wave and light poking through the orange hue is nice but as for our central protagonist, he looks stiffer than a neglected loaf of bread.  Still, we all know that around the same time, Ryu and co suffered similar rigidity.
The feeble item toss and general lack of imagination means that a torrent of abuse, followed by a good kicking was already arranged for its designer.
This looks decent in theory but I hate pseudo representation of in-game action on cover art which is why it reeks of a toilet cubicle that needs to be left for several minutes...
This is the same kind of thing, but this dessert smells slightly more fragrant.  For those who don't know, the FM Towns Marty was a technically powerful but unsuccessful CD-based console that was released only in Japan.
While struggling with the effect of suppositories, Renton stumbles across 'The Worst Toilet in Scotland'.  Therefore, I'm making it my pet project to make sure that those responsible have their head(s) dunked down a similar bowl, swimming with the same shit smelling foulness that I don't even want to imagine.  As I'm on free play, the punishment will be repeated until I reach the pinnacle of intellectual fulfillment.
Holy Macaroni, this boss isn't even on the right background.  Peek here, Captain Cheer.

What's wrong with this picture?  Everything, that's what.  I'm consigning this as been a truly magnificent failure.
Green flamingos stagger and sway, rhinoceroses smile in disarray and elegant penguins drift in clay.  The purpose of establishing eye contact burdens most with bewilderment as it bubbles without bliss so I fail to understand the gist of this.  Therefore, I sentence thee to the depths of depravity.
That's yer' lot for now but fear not, the adventure will continue.
Copyright © 2012-2018 Nukes and Knives™ All rights reserved.