South Park

Let's get super cereal, shall we? South Park: The Stick of Truth is the closest there is to an interactive South Park film. It nails the animated television show's look, its humor, and its obsession with the human anus. If you come to The Stick of Truth for the South Park-ness of it all--for Cartman's aggressive profanity, for Butters' good intentions, for Randy Marsh's masturbation addiction--then you'll enjoy 10 or so hours of hysterical, offensive, gross buffoonery. Does the phrase "anal beads" make you giggle? Have you daydreamed of tossing poop at the people you hate? Then you know where you can shove The Stick of Truth: right into your console's disc drive.
That limited play time is a consideration, however. Of course, even if you love South Park, 10 or 11 hours of listening to Cartman call you a douchebag could prove tiring. Nevertheless, given developer Obsidian Entertainment's pedigree, you would rightfully expect a certain amount of systemic depth, or perhaps an epic-length quest loaded with narrative choices. As role-playing games go, however, The Stick of Truth is notably light on, well, everything. It's light on challenge: on medium difficulty, combat is a cakewalk, entertaining to watch but rarely engaging your mental faculties. (If you were hoping to turn your brain off and laugh at abortion jokes, you might see this as a mark in the game's favor.) It's also light on depth: if it weren't for the profanity, cartoon genitalia, and the sight of a grown man engaged in gentle coitus with a farm animal, you might have retitled The Stick of Truth as Baby's First RPG. As for choice, the game asks you to make very few narrative decisions, and the one that most obviously masquerades as a game-changing opportunity is quickly thrown away and rendered moot.

A deep role-playing experience this is not.
It is fun, however, in an "I just farted on a Nazi zombie fetus" kind of way. The overarching plot tying events together is paper-thin, putting you in the role of the new kid in town and inviting you to make friends with the potty-mouthed residents of South Park, Colorado. And Jesus. You can think of yourself as the Gordon Freeman of your social group: you're a silent protagonist upon whom the fate of the fabled Stick of Truth rests, and you become well regarded for the incredible rate at which you add buddies to Facebook. There's a mystery plot involving Taco Bell, an alien invasion, and yadda yadda yadda, but that's all beside the point: The Stick of Truth's story is a joke-delivery mechanism, leading you through many of the game's running gags by way of Kyle and company's high-fantasy hijinks.

The broad gross-out humor that makes the animated show popular is front and center, but it would be a mistake to assume that all the raunch is devoid of intelligence. When Cartman asks for your name, a button prompt greets you, inviting you to enter a name. The choice is immediately subverted, however, and Cartman refers to you simply as "douchebag," though he ultimately bestows grander titles upon you. Titles like "Sir Douchebag" and "Commander Douchebag." Elsewhere, audiologs you discover poke fun at the absurdity of...audiologs. Don't worry: the level with the audiologs also features Randy's butt with alarming frequency, so you needn't worry that South Park has gone highbrow, but like the show, The Stick of Truth hides some occasional truths within its turd talk. Still, by the time you reach the disturbing abortion minigame, you'll either already be engrossed by the inappropriateness of it all, or you'll have turned off the game in disgust in favor of something more cultured, like Jackass, or The Jerry Springer Show.

And so you hobble about the town as a customizable cardboard cutout--meaning that you fit right in among the rabble-rousing youngsters. Most of your exploration comes after you've chosen one of four character classes: fighter, mage, thief, or...Jew. Your choice determines your special abilities in the game's turn-based battles; in my case, I could fling stones at enemies using the sling of David, and use circum-scythe to inflict bleeding damage to my foes', er, groinal regions. (There's no mention of whether the skill accounts for the victim's adjusted penis size when you attack.) Don't get too hung up on your choice of class, however. While you are assigned default gear and occasionally earn new class-specific gear at specified story points, you can wear any armor and wield any weapon you find or purchase.
You can further customize your weapons with strap-ons (say, a Jew-pacabra claw for your alien ray gun that reduces your enemy's armor upon a perfect attack) and armor with patches (say, a brown badge of courage for your crown of thorns that enhances your health). Again, however, you needn't give this system much thought: just equip the highest-level gear you can, add whatever strap-ons and patches most appeal to you, and all is fine. The cash pours in quickly, and there are so many recovery items like health potions (Snacky Cakes and such) and mana potions (Hot Pockets and the like) scattered around that you run out of room for these items faster than you can use them. In fact, The Stick of Truth is so easy that you will likely forget you've even collected some of these objects. You can throw water balloons at your enemies to remove their buffs, and you can quaff some Tweek Bros Coffee to gain another turn, but the chances of needing them are practically nil. There's no reason, then, not to spend freely on wigs, glasses, and other accoutrements. After all, nothing says "professional Jew" like a blond Lolita wig, 3D glasses, and muttonchops.

The most valuable combat items aren't the most effective, but rather the most entertaining to unleash. I used every toilet I came across in The Stick of Truth, because doing so yielded feces I could fling in combat to gross out the hobos and hall monitors I was fighting. I could have used those turns for more effective attacks, perhaps, but watching bullies barf every turn was too fun of a possibility to pass up. Your choice of which buddy to invite into battle with you is similarly balanced in favor of fun over effectiveness. Only one other character can be in your party at any one time (Butters, Cartman, and Jimmy are among the choices), and while your buddies all have different skills, there's no real advantage in choosing one over another. In fact, apart from the moments the game forces a particular party member upon you, you could easily stick with a single buddy from beginning to end.