Wherever those games were taking place, the baseball of 2K10 usually appears to be unfolding here on planet Earth. When batting, you will have to be patient in identifying pitches, rather than taking a rip at everything thrown. Pitchers often straddle the outer-edge of the strikezone, and a batter caught trying to pull a ball way out there will often tap weak grounders to the pitcher and second baseman. Derek Jeter’s most enviable quality—the ability to sit back on a pitch and go with ...

Let’s not drag this out too much, it hurts.

TB2 is all spectacle, but it’s well done. Gargantuan sluggers take powerful rips at incoming pitches, practically jumping out of their cleats; pitchers throw fastballs almost exclusively in the triple digits and curveballs with such acute breaks that head-high tosses end up low and outside. Line drives scream from the batter’s box to the wall; retrieving fielders send missiles back to the infield. An alarming percentage of balls hit are homeruns (and more are doubles). Many that otherwise would ...

Things appear promising enough from the outset: players are treated to their team warming up while introductory commentary is provided by Gary Thorne and Steve Phillips. The reliably ineloquent Jon Miller/Joe Morgan duo has been retired, but readers familiar with Firejoemorgan.com or, more generally, the sport of baseball, will understand in short order this new team is not necessarily an improvement. The stadiums are bright to the point of appearing somewhat cartoonish, but they do sport the tr...

I’m a beat-‘em-up enthusiast.

There is a brilliant idea that inspires Uplink: Hacker Elite, and it largely rests at the intersection of the state of present day technology, and the timeless intrigue that surrounds crime and criminals, so deeply-rooted that it taps human nature. There have long been games depicting crime, going all the way back to the Atari 2600, and the monumental Grand Theft Auto series is inarguably the one that has most recently brought the issue of game crime and violence into the limelight...

There is a glee about Sly Spy, a maniacal urge to so blatantly steal and simultaneously disrespect the source material it pays cynical homage to, the wonderful 007 canon, that makes it a grotesque spectacle, somehow both irritating and intriguing at the same time. I’ve always appreciated poorly made side-scrolling action games that are in obvious replication of the James Bond saga (I’m one of six living fans of the campy and tedious Rolling Thunder), and I couldn’t help but ...

Mug Smashers, though devastatingly threatening by name, is more of a womanly slap across the cheek than any truly bruising smash. It isn’t as good as Final Fight or Streets of Rage, and certainly doesn’t appear to be too worried about it. It’s bad, and surprisingly content with that.

Perhaps more than any other video game, Ken Griffey Jr. Presents Major League Baseball is firmly entrenched in a part of my mind from which it cannot be uprooted, forever connected to a reality that is experienced by most boys in childhood – one that involves baseball and summer days that arrived and parted too quickly. For this reason, I am not merely biased; I am so maniacally obsessed with Griffey, so overexposed to its elements from years of play, that, to me, it really has los...

It’s difficult to say which side of this battle is the more feebleminded; it’s a close race. Enemy henchmen run on-screen and fire a shot at you within a second of appearing. Because they are unbelievably stupid, they can fire only on a line – they don’t duck down or aim upwards or diagonally – just straight ahead.

But do not fail to take advantage of your craft’s second capability. While you fly along idly, perhaps through a rare spot of peacefulness where no foes dwell and your guns lay resting silently, a gold, magnetic electricity will surround you on all sides. Should certain models of enemy spacecraft come in contact with your unique force field, they will be subject to your own purposes!

The settings don't just differ from area to area --- they completely change in theme within stages. Your five-minute horseback ride --- during which, as in every level, you battle with a midpoint boss --- is followed by an entry into a high tech, futuristic enemy base, where the enemies no longer toy with spears and ninja stars, but rapid-fire ammunition.

Starbuck faces shortcomings in technology that don’t hinder his enemy. When he manages to pop an enemy’s singular balloon (to William J. Starbuck’s advantage, he has two balloons!), they have parachutes that allow them to fall gently, often allowing them to float above nearby suspended rocky ledges, as opposed to the infested waters below, where Kazak the space mutant fish would surely like to devour them.

There’s little you can’t do, and there isn’t much that can’t happen, especially over the course of a full race. Fight off the aptly named WAR HAMMER with your bare fists or with an available weapon; swerve in and out of the lanes, avoiding traffic and, on rare occasions, wildlife; and outrun the law to avoid being busted, disqualified from the race, and fined.

Your average encounter with Jaws himself plays out just like any other confrontation; he’ll swim back and forth as you spew rice at him. He’ll swim in your general direction, but unless your deep-sea diver suddenly loses all of his motor skills, the shark will never catch you.

Streets of Rage 2 is, apparently, one of the most beloved Sega Genesis titles ever created – rarely have I found so much near-unanimous gushing praise for a side-scrolling beat-‘em-up. I’ve read more than once that this is the best brawler of its generation. The problem: I don’t see it.

At first, you’ll be reduced to throwing lowly rocks at a being so untouchable that, according to the films, shotgun blasts don’t even affect him.

C&D is a monstrous freak, imprisoned in the cage of the side-scrolling beat-em-'up. The difference between this one and its more popular peers is its unrelenting willingness to be absolutely out of its mind. Any boundaries in the odd or hilarious set by Final Fight or Streets of Rage, C&D ignores with reckless abandon. The result is a title made wholly satisfying by its own outrageous spectacle.

SR humors us, and tells us lies. In chronological order, the first lie is that in the Old West, there were cowboys named Bob. I know one thing: Bob is not a cowboy. Bobs are office productivity consultants. Bobs aren’t gun-wielding lawmen.

The Back Then