The script doesn't care either
This is where No More Heroes really flicks up two fingers at videogame convention. It’s not just the Tarantino-like level of NSFW language, (though you’ve got to love any game in which your character’s first line is “F*ckhead!” as he crashes his bike through two bad guys) it’s more the way in which the game’s personality explodes through all of the dialogue and plot points by subverting or just plain ignoring all the old clichés of character and story you’ve seen a million times before.
Travis’ answering machine is alternately filled with messages about his next kill and the latest dodgily-titled porn video he’s overdue to return. He bought his beam katana from an internet auction, keeps it under his bed, and has an apartment filled with anime posters and toys. His only purpose in life is to kill, but you can spend as long as you like just pottering around his place, trying on new outfits and playing with his cat. Oh, and did we mention he takes a dump every time you save your game? Travis’ life is split equally between ultraviolent superhero combat and the grimy, mundane, masturbatory, poop-filled minutia of life, and NMH is all the better (and all the funnier) for it.
There’s no pretence and no cliché in No More Heroes. The traditional pre-death speeches about honour and respect that haunt every action movie end as Travis (literally) cuts them short with a “Shut the f*ck up. Bored now” attitude. Travis’ contact in the murky world of professional assassins doesn’t take any of it remotely seriously and would rather go shopping, get naked, and taunt him over the phone than discuss business. Assassins follow strict samurai code, but only when they’re naïve teenage girls who watch too many movies. The list goes on. No More Heroes is a beautifully bullshit-free and human game, and it doesn’t care whose preconceptions it offends.