The smell of chimichangas and bad aftershave stained the room. Beer bottles scattered everywhere, pancake mix that had expired two weeks ago spilt all over the floor, and a bathroom in a state of rancid decay stared from me across the room. What had happened the last couple days that transformed my clean review space into a quarantine zone?
That's when I glanced at my TV screen, with PlayStation 3 on and hard rock blaring out of its speakers. There slouched in his arm chair, scratching his junk with a gun, was the source of the Godforsaken mess that has appeared in my man-cave. Some people call him Wade Wilson, but everyone knows him by his anti-superhero name: Deadpool. The fools over at High Moon Studios gave him his own video game, unleashing his madness across consoles and PCs around the world.
To be fair, "gave" is not the word I'm looking for; more like, "threatened to blow up the studio if they didn't take his crayon-written proposal into consideration." So, uh, yeah, Deadpool: The Game. It's violent, bat-shit crazy, and may cause indigestion and heavy fevers if not played properly. It's also more fun than a barrel of Wolverines shot out of a cannon towards a crate of Nightcrawlers that has been flung from an ACME giant slingshot.
What's it all about, Alfie? Well apparently Deadpool is contracted to kill Chance White, who is currently corrupting TVs everywhere with crappy television that's more about shock value than actual storytelling and character development. (Wait a minute...sounds familiar.) Unfortunately Mister Sinister gets in his way, killing Chance and keeping Deadpool from getting more money to buy pizza. In a fit of looniness he tracks Mister Sinister to the former mutant haven Genosha, killing as many clones as he can toss at him.