The Weekly WTF: ‘Revolution X,’ the Aerosmith-Branded Shooter

Ricky Wilson, frontman of Brit-tastic shit-tastic pop prattlers Kaiser Chiefs, once exclaimed that he would "...wank off a tramp for success." This probably tells you all you need to know about the depths celebrities will sink to. Hulk Hogan appeared in the worst breakfast cereal commercial ever in the eighties. Arnold Schwarzenegger hawked questionable barbecues on the shopping channel. And Aerosmith?

Well, those hairy bastards are (kinda sorta) responsible for Revolution X. It would've been better if they'd just gotten their hoboeroticism on, like good ol' Ricky.

This rail shooter hit arcades in 1994. It was later ported to every effing console known to man (PS1, Genesis/Mega Drive, SNES, Saturn), just to be sure nobody was safe from Aerosmith glaring menacingly and hairily at them from the boxart. Allegiance to any particular console would not spare you this ballache.

Here's the deal. The game is set in the distant, brain-bustingly unimaginable future of... 1996. But this is a dystopian vision, so we don't have the release of Resident Evil or MC Hammer going bankrupt or anything else awesome to enjoy. Instead, we've got dodgy military/government types taking over the damn world.

These guys are the New Order Nation, and they have devious megalomaniacal plans that rival any Bond villain. Such as... kidnapping Aerosmith. (Who could be assed to kidnap freakin' Aerosmith? Who?) We don't know either, let's just humor them.

So, yes. Revolution X begins in a Tinseltown bar. Our protagonist is there to see the Aero-dudes play, but it goes a little awry. When, y'know, the New Order Nation steals them mid-gig for no remotely explicable reason. Still, it's an excuse to send us off in gun-shooty pursuit, so why the eff not?

Your mission to rescue the eldery rockers will send you from the Amazon to the Pacific Rim, leading up to a crazy-ass climactic battle in Wembley Stadium. You'll think this is just a particularly shit dream throughout, but this is totally a real game that's actually happening to your face.

Despite all this piss-takery, one fact remains: In life, we don't get many chances to save Aerosmith's asses by shooting their captors in the effing face with a gun that fires CDs. CDs that are on actual fire. When one comes along, you've got to seize it.