So you start up NeverDead - it does the Resident Evil thing where a scary voice reads out the title, but it sounds kind of bored and resentful about having to do so - and we leap into the story of Bryce Boltzmann, a scarred and cynical demon hunter hobo who gets all his clothes from the dumpster outside the tanning factory and works for some kind of demon hunting agency under the supervision of the world's biggest bitch, who does nothing but belittle him for his poor hygiene and dress sense. NeverDead, on the other hand, fits into the category of having enough good ideas to be a pretty excellent game had they been had by an actual game developer rather than the short bus full of donkey-headed circus children it ended up with. There's mediocre bad, like Gears of War, the worst kind of bad to try and write funny things about, because it's just a conveyor belt of creatively emaciated grey cardboard boxes bouncing off my head. There's your technically-functional but nonetheless agonizing bad, like Kane & Lynch 2, an experience like duct-taping the outlet pipe of a drawing pin-making machine over your mouth.
There's your barely functional bad, like Superman 64, which plays like someone made a big pile of models, textures, and programming routines and throw them all one by one at a whirling cement mixer. But there are a great many different flavours of bad on the spectrum of mashed raccoon guts to excite the connoisseur. If I had to come up with some snarky, bitter, asshole definition of my job, it would be, "coming up with new ways to say something sucks the liquifying offal out of month-old roadkill week to fucking week." Shit, wasted that one.
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