Twisted Metal

We All Scream For ISKREEM

After a decade and many denials, Twisted Metal is BACK!
Author: Aram Lecis
Published: February 17, 2012
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Before I could grace the pages of TPS, Sam asked for a writing sample. I whipped up a review of Twisted Metal: Black. If you asked me right now, I could tell you the code to play "Assault on Cyburbia" in the original Twisted Metal (X, Square, Triangle, Triangle, Triangle). If I see a sign that says River Park, my mind automatically adds "Rumble". I have a cat named Minion (he's black, of course). I'm not quite so arrogant that I think I have more experience than anyone out there with the Twisted Metal series, but I bet I have more than you.


So indulge in my loquaciousness as I relate an anecdote about my first week with the latest David Jaffe/Eat Sleep Play masterpiece Twisted Metal (or skip ahead to page 2 if you think I'm a pompous windbag. Your loss).

I was on my way to the airport for a week in the beef-filled world of Omaha, Nebraska when I pulled into the post office to check my mail. After tossing aside the various Capital One ads and copies of the New Yorker (I get that strictly so my postmaster thinks I'm a classy guy) I saw it sitting there in a plain white envelope. My own personal review copy of the holy grail of car combat. What choice did I have but to tear back home, yank half the clothes out of my suitcase (you can wear the same underwear and socks three days straight, right?), stuff in the PS3 and speed off to get to the airport in time?

I feared for the safety of my PS3 when the airline forced me to gate-check my bag and a group of gorillas tossed it unceremoniously onto their conveyor belt and it tumbled end over end before spilling into a bin right before three other (large and heavy looking) bags landed on top of it. Once I retrieved it, I rushed to the hotel where it thankfully started right up and I had just enough time to watch the intro before being whisked away for work. Over the course of the next five days I suffered through innumerable day-long meetings, my mind wandering as I glanced around at the other people there, noticing that the geeky guy talking reminded me of Mr. Slam, and the stoner in the corner was a dead ringer for one of the many drivers of Hammerhead. The girl next to me seemed a bit taken aback when I called her Dollface, but whatever.

Once the day ended I wanted nothing more than to get back to my hotel, but common courtesy overrode my misanthropy so I was forced to attend dinners and socialize (and imbibe large amounts of alcohol). At the end of each night I'd stumble back to my room, drunkenly pick up the controller, squint at the tiny 32" TV in the room from my bed, and play a level or two of the single player campaign until I passed out. Were these the ideal conditions to first experience the game I'd waited over a decade for? Of course not.

It didn't matter though. Twisted Metal was back, and I was playing it and god DAMN it was good.

Once I landed back at home, I tore down I-95 like I was in Freeway Free-For-All (and if you don't get that reference, get out!) to get back to my large TV and comfy couch, gave my wife a quick peck, looked at the sleeping kids (it was 1am) and hooked that PS3 back up and played throughout the night.

What I thought was a good game was not. It was a fucking great game. It won't replace Twisted Metal 2 on the good old PS1 as my series favorite, but I'll be damned if it didn't bring back a lot of the old fire. Read on to see why…
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