Shadows of the Damned is a paradox.
It’s the product of three acclaimed creators each considered a master of their respective craft mimicking the same sort of B-movie many professional filmmakers (aside from Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez, of course) scorn. It’s crude, lewd, sophomoric, and — most damningly — not nearly as action-packed as it thinks.
In defiance of all this, the game has an undeniable charm. It’s colorful, its cast is charismatic, and while it has more than its share of Suda51′s trademark Dadaist quirks, they’re still largely not so bizarre as to drive non-fans away.
But I hope you can stomach dick jokes, because good lord.
Mexican demon hunter Garcia F*cking Hotspur (yes, that’s his name) may be foul-mouthed, almost illiterate, and crass, but he loves his girl Paula something fierce. So when Fleming, lord of all demons and creepy sex offender, first kills her and then kidnaps her because Garcia won’t acknowledge the demon lord has a bigger metaphorical penis, our hero leaps in after his beloved without so much as putting on a shirt, armed only with his trusty ex-demon companion and weapon: Johnson.
Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t write this stuff.