When I go to Game,
the only thing that annoys me more than the fucking staff ("Can
I help you, sir?" - "I very much doubt it”) are
people who buy Prima Strategy guides to match the game they've
just bought.
It's not so bad if it's a manual for a fighting
game or something. "Lobster boys" might know the moves
- doesn't mean they can do 'em.
I really despair, though, when people buy something
like Resident Evil with a step-by-step walkthrough. It's no so
much ‘strategy guide’ as ‘source code for the
'Idiot Programming Language’.
I also despise cheat codes which make success
a formality. Collision detection hacks are the worst ("Hey,
hey! Look at this! I've just found a cheat that turns this shit-hot
shoot-em-up into a Sunday stroll through limbo!”). I just
don't see the point. You might as well just pay someone who's
completed it to describe to you what happens at the end.
Surely the whole point of The
Sims is to make it all up as you go along.
It’s open-freakin’-ended. That’s the fun. WE
DON’T WANT TO KNOW
‘HOW’ TO DO IT.
Having made a pretty clean case for the desirability
of gaming fidelity, I've now got a dirty confession to make...
I've been cheating.
It all started on the way to the checkout. I'd
just pulled a right little charmer called Pro Evolution Soccer
3. She was dangling prettily on the end of my arm, when a right
painted Jezebel of a jewel case called coyly to us as we walked
down the aisle.
Her name was ‘Update’. She said
she liked the look of us and promptly suggested a threesome. Initially
shocked, PES3 and I warmed to the prospect – especially
when we found out just how knowledgeable she was. She knew the
proper team names and everything.
The cashier barely noticed my stalk-on as I
slid the pair of them onto his desk. When I got them home, I left
them alone to get acquainted. Re-emerging wearing an England shirt
and a comedy frog jockstrap, I was re-assured to see how well
they were getting on.
Edwyn Hesquee sticks one past
Giovanni Van Bouffant, while Troll Schampbell and Fabrizio
Cannatomato
look on – AND THAT’S HOW IT SHOULD BE.
Between the pair of them, they'd turned a panoply
of non-actionable teams ('West London Whites') into internationally
recognised giants of club football (um, ‘Fulham’).
Fantastic times, but it didn't take long for Update to make her
move.
"She's not good enough for you", she'd
say. "You shouldn't be struggling through Master League with
that squad o' shite! You should have Ronaldo and Zidane."
"I couldn't even pay Heskey's wages last
week. How the fuck am I supposed to afford Ronaldo and Zidane?"
I snapped back.
"Ssh..." she whispered. "I can
make it happen. Let me talk to her again. I'll open her up so
wide you could park your car in there".
I eventually agreed, and let PES3 and Update
explore each other. It didn't take long to get everything I ever
wanted. After playing two games with Default XI, the stars came
to shine.
My first signings included Ronaldo and George
Best at his shandy-dodging prime. By the time the transfer window
closed, I had Van Nistelrooy up front, Zidane in the middle and
Michael Owen washing the Chairman's car.
Pierluigi Collina. He’s
the best referee ever and he KNOWS when you’ve been cheating.
And yet...
I'd cheated on my beloved PES3. She knows it,
too. How else do you explain the fact that my Southampton XI of
All-Time All-Stars were trounced by fucking Pompey? I've er...
never had this problem before...
Things can't go back to normal, now. What should
have emerged through a loving relationship was revealed in a heartbeat.
There's no hope for PES3 and me, and I never want to see this
‘Update’ again.
I've lost them both, and can only hope that
this serves as a stark warning for anyone else considering gaming
adultery.
PAP, February
2004.
Comment
Here.
____________________________________________________________________
Things to 'Make' and 'Do'.
Loads of PES3 cheat codes, here. DON’T
CLICK IT!!
The proper
PES3 site, courtesy of the true-hearted folk at Konami.
PES Stadium. For all your ‘soccer’
needs – cheaty or not.
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