MotorStorm

Number of times we said, "Oh shiiitttttttt!" while playing this game: 4,768. (We counted.) Race around tracks that are muddier than your toilet after a morning-after-Budweiser shit at high speeds in everything from dune buggies to motorcycles to big rigs. The challenge: See that cliff wall coming up? You can either tap the brake and try and navigate it like a fucking pussy, or you can keep the motherfucking gas on, cross your fingers, pucker your sphincter, and hope for the best. (We strongly suggest the latter.) Unfortunately, the game, with its limited modes, feels like something is missing. In other words, playing MotorStorm is like having sex with one of the Olsen twins: It's awesome, it's brief, the two of you won't really have much to talk about afterward, and you'll be left wondering why the other twin didn't join in.