Tuesday, January 19, 2010

The male diamond.

There can be no denying that women have a thing for diamonds. Regardless of how much one costs, where it came from, or how many abused peasents died to wrest it from the earth, the initial reaction is always "oooh, sparkly!" For a long time I thought the male equivilent was chicken wings, for I knew very few men who could turn their nose up at some fine wings, mediocre beer, and some form of electronic entertainment. Forza 3 has proven me wrong; the male diamond is the sports car. Make, model, year and color are all irrelevant, there is a sports car out there for every man, they just need to find it. For me, it's this one:

Ohh, shiny!

Problem is the Countach isn't actually that fast for a racing game. I am not going to win any races in it, but I feel pretty damn content tooling around the Nurburgring pretending I could ever in a million years afford one. Racing games provide the same sort of fantasy relief as any other genre, only based just a little closer in reality then spikey haired clones who wield swords bigger than they are. It helps when tracks and cars look as real as they do in Forza 3. The fantasy is no longer 'this could never happen,' it's 'this could happen if I won the lottery.'

Forza 3: Have your mid-life crisis without ruining your marriage and credit rating.

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