I know this game has been out for a while. I know we already covered it in review and I had a bit of a rant about it. I know the rest of the world has probably left it behind them and moved on to the next big game. I know. But recently I returned to the streets of Paris to start the epic task (which I will probably give up on) of mopping up all the freeplay targets and side missions I’d missed when playing through the main story. Couple that with the fact that I’d forgotten to write a “My Top Ten” for this week and you have a brief moment of panic followed by a realisation that I can just try to be funny about something I’m enjoying. So here you go…
- French motorists all drive in the middle of the road. Often they even swerve a little bit just to try to hit you.
- Night-time in Paris isn’t an affect of the Earth’s rotation moving it away from the gaze of the sun. It’s because the Nazis have made an area depressing.
- You can jump from the tallest piece of glorified scaffolding in the world and freefall over a thousand feet with no parachute. You’ll be alright, just aim for that large puddle.
- The Burlesque dancers in wartime Paris had peculiar boobs but their bottoms were very pert. Very pert indeed.
- People born in Belfast around that time spoke completely differently to how they do now. They sounded kind of like Manchester City and Ireland goalkeeper, Shay Given if he’d been living in Los Angeles for a few years.
- Nazis might have been good at having nasty ideas and being mean to the rest of Europe but they are totally crap at seeing. And remembering.
- A carefully arranged Nazi uniform, if worn by a Shay Given tribute act, completely evaporates when subjected to the gaze of a mildly suspicious Nazi.
- Good guys wear blue and bad guys wear red. I think The Saboteur might have picked this up from somewhere else.
- When they built Paris they put shiny handrails on every building so that people would know where to climb. I think they installed all the rooftop sheds and trapdoors a bit later.
- There isn’t much more fun than strolling down a quiet Parisian street, casting a cheeky glance over your shoulder at the Nazi observation tower and flicking the detonation switch in your coat pocket.
