You might be a little shocked at the theme of this week's issue. Frankly, we are too.
For the last three years, The Escapist has intentionally avoided the "flashy screenshot" approach to games journalism. A lot more can be said about games than what's on the back of the box, and we've made it our business to say it. We've pored over the economics of MMOGs, peaked behind the curtains of PR secrecy and examined gaming subcultures with the depth and clarity of an electron microscope. Ironically, there's only one aspect of the industry that we haven't explored, and we've been staring at it all along - the shiny, gleaming surface.
What do we love about games? We don't love MMOGs for their usefulness in observing real-world economic principles; we love glowing swords and huge crits. We don't love first-person shooters for their nuanced meditations on contemporary geopolitics; we love exploding barrels and rag-doll physics. And we don't love fighting games for exposing the hypocrisy of traditional gender roles; we love breasts. (The more meticulously animated, the better.)
This week, we're collectively turning off our brains - well, as much as we at The Escapist can, anyway - and looking at games the way that our 14-year-old selves might have. Call it sensationalist, call it pornographic, call it backward. But you have to admit: It's also pretty freakin' sweet.