First off, maybe it's because I'm just from the 1920s, but everyone in this game likes to talk about some snake, and I can't say I saw a single reptile throughout the course of the game. If you're going to talk about some exotic animal you only find in the moving pictures, you best present one. Instead, an old one-eyed fellow with an admittedly dapper moustache parades around firin' his gats at any scadabout underminded enough to step in front of him.
Don't misunderstand me, playing was fun, when I knew I was playing a game. But half the time I was treated to some story of melted water men in bags and flying motorcycles and arms and the whole thing felt like I'd been swept into the sixth circle of Dante's Inferno. Yes, I'm a literate man, and I know a story when I see it. Walter Morehart's Tale of Abigail the Field Mouse, now that's a story. Slapstick Follies at the O.K. Corral featuring Bennie Hudson, now that's a story. But this Metal Gear Solid 4, or MGS4 for those of you raised in a lazy society of men who bring Italian pies to your doorstep, doesn't make a lick of sense, and I felt two nickels short of a henhouse every time some little girl came along in the game to cook me eggs. In my day, eggs were scarce, and the waste of eggs by that little blondie was downright unsettlin' to my nerves.
Another particular segment featured a flying fellow by the name of Raven, who asked me to give him my anger. I tried my darnedest, you bet your life, but I just couldn't and so we had to spar until I killed the mentally challenged bird man. In fact, most of the figures that make up the ensemble of this MGS are the sort that'd have been put into an institution in my day, if not tarred, feathered, and dumped into Lake Erie on the spot. It was a cruel routine, to be sure, but you can't say the folks of the 1920s were an inefficient lot. At least, when it came to treatin' our retards. Prohibition and the whole "Great" Depression (I've disagreed with the positive language historians use to describe it, given my personal experience in the period) were the more inefficient elements of our 1920s policies.
From what I hear, this game's made quite the splash. Many folks are calling it a bona fide classic. Well let me be the first to call it a bona fide organ grinder caught in the mesher of a large riding mower. That should make my feelings on the game clear.
Pros: Dapper moustache, you ride a motorcycle at one point
Cons: A monkey with a typewriter'd make a more logical story, too few actual snakes