Logos Panic isn't a game as much as it's a novel form of tortuous mental stress. You control one of several caffinated white-collar workers yelling words, or "Logos" at each other. It's like playing Wordtris with a golf game's power meter while watching Dr Katz. While shoving a candle in your eye and singing Macross music.
This game is unique in that it has the ability to really stress out the player. Perhaps it's the nerve-wracking tribal music that drones on in the background, like the company is just waiting to liquidate inefficient resources in a bloody belly-cutting sort of way... Or maybe it's the fact that all the characters are trapped in some obscene purgatory of office cubicles, forever answering phones, tapping at keyboards, circulating memos and generally just sitting around and yelling at each other.
How can I possibly explain the concept? You've got two corporate bitches across from each other, shaking like they just took double-mocha-cappuchino enemas during a heroin withdrawl. When one player spells out one of the character's slogans (which flashes beside their heads) then the character in question screams it at the other one. This usually makes your opponent cry but sometimes it'll do stuff like rearrange all of their tiles or change them all into the same character.
I don't think there's any real way to describe what this game is like accurately. Its gameplay swings between CONFUSION (where can I put this tile you bastard) to STRESS (you blanked out all my tiles you bastard) to ANGER (YOU'RE A DIRTY FUCKING BASTARD). Oh, and I'm kinda hooked on this game so add SHAME to that list as well. *sniff*
Sure, I could take the time to transrate all the different players' bios, but that would take time and effort and it's not nearly as fun and rewarding as just pulling some out of my ass and serving them to y'all. Don't worry, they're clean. I brushed them off.
Telma Smegworthy: Lowly secretary and presonally responsible for 90% of all venerial diseases circulating around the offices. Moonlights as "itchy, unsatisfied-with-product" character actress in douche commercials.
Jerome Spigot: Insufferable yuppie twat who yaks incessantly about his SUV payments and last night's Ally McBeal. Would've been fired sooner but his parents own the company.
Kelly-Ann Gerber: Technically in advertising, but due to constant maternity leave has spent total of eight hours on the job in the past five years. Carries around bundles of blank pages in an attemt to look "productive".
Mahen Taito: A quiet, unassuming programmer who, unbeknownst to his employers, has found salvation in a local branch of the Aum Shinrikyo cult. Nonetheless, he is a very efficient, punctual worker who keeps his cubicle so clean he insists on weaing latex gloves to work every day...
"Dirty" Joe Hibusi: Although he became a senior executive salaryman through ingenious use of blackmailing the boss with feltch-pornography pics, Dirty Joe will never enjoy a VP seat due to his constant dandruff, chronic halitosis and horrible posture. Ranks second in the "Who'll snap like a bitter winter twig first and gun everyone down" office poll, just behind Mahen.
Pepito Sanchez: Online support who harnessed all the company's tech resources into downloading scatporn at a constant, hi-bandwidth rate. Makes a tidy sum off his resulting pirateware "Pepito's CD-Rimmers: Sukin' da Funk/Outta dat Bootie".
Herbert Assgump: So old. And so flatulent. No one really knows what Herbert does around the office, but whenever any employee feels the need to beat down someone out of career-generated frustration and hostility, Herbert's the su-ka their fists talk to.
Lester Jimmy: Mail boy and office bastard. Responsible for uncounted gobs of mail getting lost, opened, manipulated or otherwise molested. He sometimes burns other employees' payslips out of sheer spite. Also responsible for the remaining 10% of circulated venerial disease.
And, of course, no workplace would be complete without a DIRTY OLD CHRONIC MASTURBATOR. He spends 30% of his day in the bathroom and the other 70% undressing fellow emplyees in his mind. Sometimes leaves Voyeur's Digest in the stalls.
Oh, and if you're enough of a masochistic nutter to complete this game on the default setting, you get NO ENDING WHATSOEVER!!! HAHAHA JOKE IS ON ME! *sniff*
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Written by Cali-X and posted on 8-27-00.
This article is ©2000 Calvin LaMont.