"I've got kids now. Yeah, that makes you feel old; yeah, you are put into a constant state of stupefaction by the existence of entropy; can we please stop banging on about it? "Didn't you once say you'd rather go at your joy department with cheese wire and a sewing machine than have kids, Yahtz?"Well, people change. Having a kid changes you. It did something to my brain - I've started seeing babies as cute, rather than overgrown tardigrades with money vacuums on one end and McDonald's chocolate milkshake dispensers on the other. I can't even enjoy dead baby jokes anymore 'cause inevitably I picture my own baby, and the imagined grief ultimately outweighs getting to sleep in again. I tell you all of this to add a necessary context to the following statement: the little boy in the Plague Tale games is a shitbag and I hope he dies. Every time the camera lingers on his glimmering, uncomprehending eyes like the light reflected off two buckets of stale cum, I want to grab his jug ears and twist until his neck cracks like the many party poppers I will subsequently employ. That should immediately bring across the root of my main issue with A Plague Tale: Requiem (no dry heave anymore, it's a franchise now): that the protagonist's sole driving motivation is to appease a little cockgoblin that any sane person would yeet out the back of the donkey cart at the first bend of a rocky mountain path."