Road Rash: A history in rust (One)

Road Rash was always a favorite game of mine. I always enjoyed playing it on my Sega Genesis Entertainment and Gaming Console System. There were always some things that bugged me though; well, there were a lot of things that bugged me. In fact, the whole game pissed me off...which is why I'm here to write an angry rant about the fact that I have all this suppressed rage from a game I failed to beat 10 years ago.

First and foremost, you play as a no-name biker. You're simply known as "Player A." Player A? What are you, on drugs? Not "Player 1" or "Untitled" or something? You play as Player A? What the fuck. Now, that isn't even the worst of it. That doesn't even scratch the cusp on the imagination of how bad this game pisses me off.

So when they start you off, you're, of course, in 15th place. I like how they choose to start you off in last place. Even if you win the race and come in first, there you are, very next race, in 15th once again. And why 15th place? They couldn't find another person with a stupid gimmick name to enter to make it an even 16? Why 15? Fuck 15, that's stupid. 15 makes me feel like I fucked someone's wife in the ass to be stuck here. 15 makes me feel like they just stuck me here in the back to because my feelings would be hurt if I wasn't allowed to enter the race. After all, look at my clothing. You think to yourself, "This isn't racing attire! This isn't racing attire at all!" It looks like you stole the jumpsuit out of your local Shell station's bathroom closet, and decided to race with it. There's going to be a Mexican cleaning some feces who is going to be mighty freakin' pissed. Fucking 15.

They make you feel like a complete fucking moron when you play this game. The guys in front usually have the best bikes. I have a rat bike piece of shit with tires made out of old sweaters. "These aren't tires! Maybe in the land of Firestone these'll qualify, but not here! Not in Alaska!" I cheated before. Yep, I did. I was given the mega sex ball buster bike 2000, with the cup holder and the built-in Venus 2000 sex toy penis massager. Yeah, it's pretty sweet. It's got all the works, goes 205 miles per hour, blows you when you're sticking a dude in the face. Pretty cool. But if I have the best bike, and am going 200 MPH to start off a race, HOW are these dudes with their shitty power bikes ahead of me by a mile and a half? That just makes no sense. No sense at all.

The best part of the game, obviously, is the rashing. I never understood the title of the game, exactly. "Road Rash." Is it some kind of herpes-like disease your first crummy bike gives you? Does it give you the road rash? That's disgusting. "Win the race, get the rash, that's how it works around here." Oh, thanks Bella Donna. Bella's the local penis intake around here, usually places 4th or 5th, only after being knocked out like a little dyke from my CLUB OF DEATH. Yes, the CLUB OF DEATH is very influential. See, you don't just buy a CLUB OF DEATH. You must acquire one by ripping it from the hands of its very owner. Is that the "rashing"? Knocking some dumbass unconscious with your CLUB OF DEATH?

The weapons in this game, simply phenomenal. You have your standard issue CLUB OF DEATH, your chain, your wet towel, your milk jug, your personal sized vibrating dildo. There's a big selection. There's nothing more satisfying than beating a cop over the head with your dong. There just isn't. Name me one thing better than beating the living crap out of an officer of the law with something blunt. "Well, I heard sex is pretty good." No no no no no, this is much better. Much much better. And then when you get his health down in the red, you begin to wonder if you killed the cop. "Oh no, I think he's dead! Is he dead? Is - is he dead? Is the pig really dead? Did I bone him too hard?" So now you killed a cop. What happens if you get busted next time around?

Officer 57: You're coming with me, big boy. You'll like it in there!
-$5000
-$25000 Officer killing fee (Good day!)

What I love about this game is its overall cheesiness. Yes, it was the 90s, but still. You don't see people named Biff or Rhonda anymore. There has never been a Lucky Luc. And each one of them has something to say, pending the outcome of your race. You win?

Sergio: Say, essa, you're goin' down next time.

You lose?

Sergio: Told you you'd go down, essa. Better luck next time!

This makes me realize what arrogant jerks they are. Even when you knock their tails unconscious, they still talk. They're still talking. It's unreal.

I was playing on the final level, and it was in JAPAN. Japan of all places. Nope, no motorcycle races there. And the weird thing is, there were little to no Asian riders. That's weird. But this level, JAPAN, gave me a diabetic seizure. And I'm not even diabetic, so you know this level's fucked up. And the cops in this level are WHITE! There's no little Japanese men with their tiny automobiles chasing you, there's nothing like that. The cops in this game are all white. There's no Japanese with swords. I like cops to have swords, that'd be fuckin' grand. Samurai Cops, f'real.

Another level I quickly enthused through was Brazil. Yes, Brazil. I had to burn several rain forest for these Kevlar-coated tires. You see, I'm not an environmentalist by any means, but I need my Kevlars. Or, I could have the tires that once they deflate, you pour green ooze in. I need me some of those. I'd like, purposely get the challenges wrong on Double Dare to steal me some of that green ooze for my tires.

Marc Summers: Derek, Joe Carter was, A) The 39th President of the United States, B) My latest crush, or C) A hippity hoppity baseball player?
Derek: I don't know, Marc... I'm gonna have to ask Mo.
Marc Summers: That's "GUTS."
Derek: Do I haaave it?
Marc Summers: Do you have what?
Derek: The GUTS?! Now give me that fucking slime, neat freak.

But I am in Brazil, and I'm cruising along, going 205 MPH in my super sex dick polishing bike when all of a sudden, I run into a cow! A fucking cow! In the middle of the road, there's just a giant, fat-assed cow! Who the hell curtails their livestock in such a way that their cows interrupt my victory lap? Those assholes. And on top of things, as this game is #1 in the realism department, the cow didn't even budge. But as soon as I was flung from my sex machine 2000 penis contoured bike, I run up to the cow and tip that bitch over. On foot! Yes, I can run into a cow and kill it, but I can't run it over going 205 MPH. Ooh, hear that Electronic Arts? It's the logic police, and you're getting taken in. Bastards.

The thing I'd like to see most from this game, other than more people named after their dogs, is a movie. Yes, a movie. And the perfect man for this role is Tom Hanks. Forrest Gump himself in this Spielberg epic masterpiece mega-motion picture production. The teaser poster'd look a little something like this:

I'd lick balls to see that. Serious balls.