Hey my little pecan, how’re you? Good, good, listen, we need to talk. No, it’s not like that, it’s just, we have some issues I need to get off my chest.
Remember when, back in 2008 when Gearbox officially announced they were gonna’ bring us together, how excited I was? I mean, those Brothers in Arms joints were always a blast and people seemed to really take to Borderlands and all that jazz? What could go wrong with a game based on Aliens, right?
I know, those were exciting times. Our love affair had just started, we were still getting to know each other, learn one-another’s ins and outs, how your multiplayer and co-op would work, etc. You sounded like a Left 4 Dead knockoff, which is fine by me and honestly, the reason I wanted you. I know Left 4 Dead and I had a torrid romance, but I figured you’re like the 2.0 version of that jam, so, I figured our love could replace Valve’s masterpiece.
After our time together, though, baby, I was wrong. You just didn’t live up to the promises you made to me, girl, and truthfully, that breaks my heart. I thought maybe those nights we spent together with my boys in Extermination or Team Deathmatch would make up for how it was when you and I were solo, but nah, it don’t work like that, baby-girl.
Now listen, I know this isn’t anything new. You’ve been hearing this all over the internet, except from those snobs at Forbes, they seem to really dig you for whatever reason, but sweetness, that dog don’t hunt for me. I’m not quite sure what you did with EGM that made them give you a 9.0, but baby, I sure as hell never got that kind of treatment from you.
Before you get up and leave, I’ll be plain with you, baby. You let yourself go. You promised all these neat innovations and never delivered on any of them. Visually, you look okay most of the time, but would it hurt you to spruce up a bit when the guys are over for multiplayer? I mean, you take forever to find a game, the least you could do is look dynamite when you do. It’s hot when a Marine gets tail-whipped by an alien and loses his head and all, baby, but visually, you’re a little weak.
I’ve heard some shady stuff about your past and I’m just not into it anymore, girl. As excited as I once was to unwrap you and rip you onto my hard drive, I just, I think we need some time apart. It’s not you, it’s me.
Leave the keys. And no, I won’t be giving you another spin in my disk tray.