The New Deal

The New Deal
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Brett Staebell | 8 Sep 2009 12:03
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What do custom rules and moonshine prove? That homebrew means a humdinger of a time! Change the name of the game and you'll be fedora-deep in replay value. Do our troops proud and fill the Kaiser's squareheads with daylight using only a bayonet! Speed run your way from "sorry as a slug" to "swift as a swinger"! Using your noggin is just the ticket out of the used game gallows.

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"Tell it to Sweeney!" you say? Don't make tracks just yet! I can tell you aren't the type to abide any flim-flam, and that suits me swell. Just to prove it, I'll show you what the fat cats in those silicon slums don't want you to know!

For starters, your consoles are packed with more wonder than your white bread. Sure, CEO so-and-so will give you the razzle-dazzle - megapixels, gigawatts, the kitchen sink. It's a Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings, but you're the turkey. Why? All that zip under the hood and it boils down to smacking a button. Real flashy and enough to make a cute tomato go gaga for graphics, but the real scoop is the features that aren't on the box!

What we have here is Joe Schmoe's 360, a miracle of science and how General Electric is duping you into putting its kids through college. The only thing hotter than its games is its CPU. So what are you going to do when your modern marvel catches the old Scarlet Cyclops? If you're half as broke as I am, nothing! The man at Microsoft wants to spin you two ways from Tuesday with the Warrantee Shuffle when you haven't lost a system, but gained a real sockdolager of a heater!

Imagine: You stumble back from a rough day at the docks ready to relax with a good meal when you discover the gas company has put the kibosh on your heat. No worries! Just pull out a can of pork and beans and presto-power-supply, hot grub! Your own spa, dryer, iron, curler - it's a veritable slice of high-living pie for the missus. Hire me and your 360 will make a Swiss Army Knife look like a one-trick pony!

Perhaps instead you've pegged the PS3 as your gizmo of choice, and who wouldn't? (Anyone whose budget chimes in under 300 clams, for one!) Still, maybe you landed this smooth machine back in aught six when you were riding the gravy train all the way to Park Place. Too bad the engineer, monocled mook that he is, pocketed your $200 and never told you next stop was Mediterranean Avenue.

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