Have you ever been inside of a frat house the morning after a big party? It is a digusting sight, a truly singular vision of decadence corroded into misery. The first thing you notice is the smell: Half-empty beer cans spilling warm gutter alcohol onto damp floors, the foot-stench of dance-floor sweat that has hardened into human mildew, a few half-eaten pizzas lying around the kitchen, cigarettes on the porch. You will see thrown chairs, busted lights, probably a window broken. Lovingly-assembled party decorations have been torn to pieces. The poor sap who fell asleep on the community couch has unmentionable things scrawled across his face in permanent marker. A few girls are sneaking out the back exit, debating whether last night was a mistake. Eventually, around noon, the frat dudes wake up and start the clean-up process. As they mop up cocktail residue and fill trash cans with red cups, they all have the same sour expression on their face. (The bigger the party, the worse the hangover.) All they want to do is go back to sleep. But someone has to clean up the mess.
That is a close approximation to what it feels like to play through the Gears of War trilogy, which comes to a fascinating, flawed end today with the long-awaited release of Gears of War 3. (This being a videogame series, I should note that “comes to an end” really means “reaches a satisfyingly ending-ish pause point before the inevitable cut-rate cash-in prequel-sequel bonanza, Halo-style.”) READ FULL STORY »
