It definitely wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but to those that smirk at the sight of a pained gentleman clutching his freshly bullet-pierced gonads, Bulletstorm was pretty darn funny. If, on the other hand, you’re not comfortable with assigning point values to outrageous gun violence, this FPS is liable to make you queasy. No matter how self-aware or absurdly humorous, there’s no denying that this gorgeous shooter rewards you for thinking of increasingly complex ways to kill.
Every level was essentially an excuse to throw a parade of muscular mutants at the player, each doomed to die in an environmental hazard (electric fields, carnivorous plants, spiked walls) or be perforated by hot lead. Add in Grayson Hunt’s ability to yank enemies with his Energy Leash, or boot them into a slow-mo trajectory with his Gravity Boots, and the game became a macabre ballet of mangled, munition-filled corpses soaring towards oblivion. To complement the avant-garde premise, the dialogue included such thought-provoking lines as “It's a murder party, starring me!” and "What the dick!? That is one big bitch."