Spotlight: Hotline Miami

A Hot Line

A LOOK AT A GAME THAT EXISTS BY PETER FRANKO

This pea brain thought Mr. Fists of Fury would accept charity.

So I've gotten into this so-called Hotline Miami mess over the last few days and it has entertained me thoroughly. The top-down indie shooter packs much more punch than an iron-fisted RZA and is fucking badass. You feel like a Pulp Fiction goon pumped up on methadone, coke, and likely other substances, trampling through luxury apartments and reigning terror like a skull-bashing phoenix.

What's not to love?

Party on, Garth.

Pumped for some 8-bit tail.

Not only is it exhilarating, Hotline Miami is gaming art. Simultaneously paying homage to games of decades past and gluing eyes to its avant-garde visuals is a task it manages flawlessly. Its soundtrack mixes flavorful synth tunes with booming bass and an eerie, nightmarish twist and evokes images of a club soaked with neon, hookers, speakers and guns. Speaking of speakers: if you have a richter-scale stereo system, this game is infinitely better. The music fits so well, you almost forget about the hundreds of people you're slaying.

Your character can put on various masks that aid him on the shag-carpeted battlefield. After experimenting, I found a cheetah mask that makes you punch thugs' brains out. And that's that.

Overall, Hotline Miami is a dating sim for psychopaths.