# escape from dead island bro next gen collar pop that mutilated torso-promo so utterly dire its seering cosmic awfulness causes dimensional shockwaves in the local spacetime matrix in other words it's pure floating crapola from the toilet of culture to rival sunset overdrive and may safely flushed away without due concern or guilt you are a visiting alien anthropologist from the near future. thanks to a passing cel shaded 90's phone garme bot this short ugly video appears on your research lab holo-screen one day // video here > napoleon dynamite: this is pretty much the worst video ever made > kip dynamite: napoleon like anyone can even know that > uncle rico: you know what napoleon? you can leave despite feeling nauseous you manage to take some notes on it for the archives escape dead island trailer breakdown apparently by the time this travesty is released the main brodude cutout 'cliff caylow' will not only be dead but also undead insane - but also caught in an alternative dimension where apparently only joyless scribblers of fan fiction exist - or something cliff is the spoiled brat of a powerful media mogul who has stolen hid dad's yacht with ir friends and is determined to film the documentary of the century: exposing the sordid truth about the unvarnished awfulness of the dead island garmes outbreak among the public the player struggles with ir sanity as cliff struggles with the concept of sanity as the world around ir (it's always around ir) continues to be unpredictable time distorts and folds in on itself; strange messages appear on ir smart phone (oh teh irony) and impossible events shatter reality. oceans turn red containers plummet from the clear blue sky - and if cliff had any thoughts whatsoever they'd still probably be (deadpan] 'dead' wrong one clearly notices cliff's hot popped collar fratboi style which clearly marks ir as potent brodude mcjockface archetype cliff also features spiked 'startled parrot' hair a 'ripped' musculature complete with trademarked edgy(tm) tattoos on ir powerful arms. ey generally looks like ir's read a book - or two cliff must however be suffering from a total absence of animated facial musculature - since ey continues narrating to some forever unseen third party for the duration of the video suddenly cliff is plodding heavily down a tropical beach when ey sees a fellow mcbrodude; at least one assumes it is - the blank look indicating no detectable neural activity the random howling at passers by - the general lack of any self restraint and an air of unstoppable aggression cliff then states that ey has to 'keep it together' and states what must be ir favorite personal ego development mantra "breath clear mind" - it isn't working right how however since cliff's on ir knees clutching ir breezy skull for cliff it seems the prospect of any intellectual activity outside high-fiveing and shotgunning 'lite' beer is terrifying confusing and painful (let's put it this way if ey dies on this crappy island it might not exactly be "another major loss for american philosophy") for the first time since the start of the video cliff ventures to tell the truth clearly stating "none of this shiz is real" - a fact which while it might be true in some superficial manner all too common in cliff's little world of gym sessions and tanning salons nonetheless has important and predictably weary consequences for any player foolish enough to join cliff on ir listless journey (for $40) right then however large metal shipping containers start raining from the sky - perhaps it's the spirit of this strange and violently disappointing realm trying to rid the island of cliff and ir thick necked idiocy in other jungian news it appears the very form of self-satisfaction made flesh 'cliff bleszinsky has returned with lawbreakers. mere coincidence? why it's a veritable confederacy meanwhile the mighty stephanie sterling's perfectly accurate review calls teh garme "boring" and "mediocre" // republic of bob