If
you thought it was scary when programmers force you to act out their
dragon-riding, block-shifting, platform-jumping fantasies, wait until
you see the crap programmers turn out when they're in love. To give
you an idea, imagine that one creepy kid from high school who always
had circles under his eyes from staying up drawing violent comic strips
on lined paper. Everyone remembers THAT kid. Now, imagine him, trying
to work a poorly-rendered version of a girl he has a hopeless crush
on into his twisted little world of dueling robot dragons. Or in this
case, speeding cars and Mafia dons.
In
the fine tradition of the Barbie games, JeNnY is actually loosely based
around a Barbie-esque Japanese doll line. This is going to be a short
paragraph because I really don't know much about dolls. Moving on.
There's
a brief intro movie I keep forgetting about in which a pumpkin-shaped
carriage rolls into a black screen, pauses a second, then takes off,
leaving Jewel behind. And she just kind of sits there with a guitar
or a big green key or something. She doesn't say or do anything. Apparently,
this is Jenny, who has lost her word. I guess. My story is probably
more deep than theirs.
Jenny
(or JeNnY as the game insists) lives in a decidedly femmey house with
an enormous 'J's' nailed to her second floor window. She also happens
to be too stupid to get inside. So, as she stands on her doorstep one
day, Boris Badinov skitters behind her, stops for a second either to
grope her or drop off that briefcase. This triggers the adorable neighborhood
puppies to chase after you and gnaw your life bar, as well as two or
three Gremlin-driving midgets and some Mafia guys. Not quite as chaotic
as Bart vs. the Space Mutants, but it does have better control. You
must now run all over the god damned overworld map, pressing A at random
doorbells until one actually opens. The starting level seems to be picked
at random.
Did
I mention that Jenny lives across from NASA? I always wanted to go there,
but it's just so damn expensive. Course, if you try to go to NASA this
time of year it's too packed anyway. There's a three-hour line for the
damn centrifuge. I suppose if you're one of the locals, it's no big
deal to go there on the weekends, but I still wish I could have my picture
taken with Mickey outside the Rocket Building. Actually, the NASA level
is kind of interesting in that you get a jetpack and vacuum suit, and
fight UFO's, aliens and uh... dragons. Space dragons.
The
main problem comes from the fact there's a stumpy Mafia don walking
back and forth along a stretch of sidewalk, firing randomly in either
direction. If you thought Goths Sitting on Benches Day and Gay Day were
bad, wait until Geriatric Mafia Day. Maybe I'm dwelling on this a bit
too much, but when the overworld enemies consist of cute puppies, AMC
Gremlins, and Mafia start showing up, it's a sign that this city has
fallen into freaking anarchy.
If
this is the overworld, I'm afraid I can't afford to show you the underworld.
It's simply too awful to contemplate. Side-scrolling levels are sometimes
available at the houses with bells on them, depending on whether or
not Jenny remembered how to open doors this time you turned the game
on. These usually involve you making the prom-dress-wearing little tramp
jump on flowers or tombstones to get items, although nine times out
of ten, it's got a hideous frog demon or KKK member hidden inside. (see:
right.) It's not every game where Keroppi tries to harpoon you.
Even
though you have to rely on her primitive flight-or-flight instinct when
roaming the mean streets of JeNnY, in the side-croller levels, you gain
the novel ability to deliver punishing groin-level blows with your stilletto
heels. And, with the right random item, you can shoot pepper spray off
into the eyes of the mummy or ghost chasing you.
The
recurring boss is a skeletal bovine beast known as COW'S HEAD. Just
say it. "COW'S HEAD." It's funny, isn't it? Following the
battle with said head of cow, you play a crappy slots game against a
gigantic ghost named WHOMANCHUN.
Lost
Word of JeNnY features clunky action, is a transparent merchandising
tool, and achieves unthought of heights in the field of Improvisational
Enemies. Play it alone and crying, or inflict it on a friend, because
sharing pain is a real bonding experience.