Toby rediscovers the joys of a game where you have endless amounts of, er, pee.
By Toby McCasker on September 4, 2013 at 8:54 pm
Last night I was in an absinthe daze and when I came to I had purchased Postal 2 for $2.50 on Steam. Shame welled in my feet and grew black in my veins, climbing up through a broken-legged chair of a man in the hue of 1am until I was mostly skin and bones. My soul, then, became a mess of coalfires never burnt, just buried, and I peered stricken up into the backlit canopy outside. I wondered about the stars, and if I would ever see them again after what I was about to do. What I was about to do could not be undone. It was to be one of those nights masquerading as the day, and the walls shuffled closer, stained wet with an animal panic.
I had been reading a few books and fancied myself quite literate at this point. Postal 2 would fix that.
Five minutes later and I’m swearing and drinking and putting #YOLO hashies into articles and feeling normal again. Not sure what the hell was with that opening para. Man. It was almost as annoying as Postal 2, which is only annoying because I… love it. Of course I love it. Don’t get me wrong, it is a pants game, mechanically speaking. It really is. It probably even was when it came out in ’98. In fact I think a lot of publications give it a big chubby ‘zero.’ It’s not that bad, gosh. It still works and everything. But yeah I kind of want my $2.50 back. Neweeeell!
What I love about it is pretty similar to the only thing I liked about Duke Nukem Forever, which was self-aware scatology of picking up a handful of someone else’s poo – WITH A NUT EMBEDDED INSIDE IT – and hurling it off the walls in great smears of last night’s $5 parma. Duke would even moan at times, “What am I doing?”
That, to me, was worth 100 years or however long it took for Duke Nukem Forever to come out. If you have forgotten, Postal 2’s Postal Dude is blessed with the fountain of forever in his bladder. I have never pressed the ‘R’ key so much. Do that and he unzips with callous disregard for anything but the need to piss endlessly, everywhere.
I am not too proud to admit that I spent three hours of the grim dawn hosing down anyone within pee-shot. Is there some other point to this game? Because if there is I don’t want to know about it. People cough and splutter as your curiously greenish wee drips off them. Some people vomit. Those people are my favourites. I piss all over everyone until I find myself a vomiter. Preferably at the top of a hill. That is where the most urine-coaxed merriment is to be found, because I tell you, the only physics that matter in this game are the ones that affect the trajectory of a man’s spew as he unleashes a recycled luncheon hell onto a slanted angle. Look at it flow down that hill, in a race against time and space and against my limitless stream!
You’re fired. –Ed