South Park: The Stick of Truth and its Hilarious, Prostitutes-and-Diarrhea-Infused Gaming Past- Chef’s Love Shack

Or, if we're being pernickety, Chef's Luv Shack. But giant gorilla gonads to that, we aren't among the pre-teen legions that idolize Justin Bieber, warbling pop-ballache from the depths of the Devil's foreskin that he is. As such, ‘luv' is a word that will be forcibly ejected from our vocabulary like the dude with the fiber-deficient diet ingesting copious quantities of Ex-Lax.

But our tenuous train of thought is rapidly departing, so let's board the bastard. Here is another of Acclaim's really-rather-craptacular bastardizations of the South Park license. It's a half-assed party/quiz affair, interspersed with minigames that run the gamut from mildly entertaining to punch your own ears, nose and throat in the face in your outrage at this ineptitude. In summation: It's Mario Party, with less board game-centric shenanigans and more shooting giant, rotating, technicolor asscheeks in space.

With Chef as the host, naturellement, Isaac Hayes' inimitable songs about simultaneous lovin' and/or sleazy innuendos are also supplied as standard.

The trivia is provided by means of a farcical quiz show, for one to four participants. Each will take the role of one of the series' quartet of merry miscreants: Cartman, Stan, Kyle or Kenny. You'll be given a selection of ludicrous categories, and Chef will propel a related question straight into your bewildered face. (From the category ‘Hippie Crap,' for instance, you'll be asked ‘What year did the hippie freak festival Woodstock occur?') From here, a typical buzz-in-and-opt-for-one-of-the-multiple-choices-provided mechanic ensues.

The major departure from I could see that on any dire cable channel normality occurs betwixt rounds. There are 23 minigames to indulge in/enjoy/shoot yourself in the eyeballs to. Beyond the aforementioned shooting-floating-asses-in-space shenanigans (which they could have dubbed -prepare yourself for this witticism, because you may shit- assteroids), there's a pie eating contest (an instantaneous victory for Cartman, presumably), a peculiar zombie-tinged Whac-A-Mole affair, and other capers inspired by vintage arcade games.

South Park: Chef's Love Shack is beset by the quintessential party game shortcomings. To wit: it's utterly and thoroughly wank in single player. The minigames will be entirely bereft of any computer-controlled opponents, which oftentimes means that you can merely sit there scratching your ballsack on the couch, giving no shits about the virtual pie consumption unfolding on the screen, and still emerge victorious.

The time-honored South Park snark and endearingly crude humor is attempted here, but it's in scant supply indeed. As such, we'd venture that this is another feculent nineties offering that ought to remain obscured back in the sands of time (see also: The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, M.C Hammer's parachute pants and those youthful crack addictions which we certainly did not have).

Header image source: www.gamefaqs.com