Little yellow circle munching away, doing the pills... the ecstasy, searching for those potent little power pellots. Where does it end Pac-Man? Where does it end? Pac-Man, the 80s posterboy for domestic violence, after coming home day after day with a head full of acid and drunk as a sailor he starts pounding away on his family, because they look like blue ghosts to him! Obviously violence in video games was not as shunned as it is today. Pac-Man was a highly successful arcade game, and also a modern marvel of an Atari game. On a system with about 17,000 different versions of pong, this thing comes along... this yellow dot muncher thing. As you can clearly see, Pac-Man does not have a tongue. Pac-Man lost his tongue back in Vietnam. His dirty little chomping escapades, tossing and frollicing and rolling up to enemy lines echoing a taunting digitized quacking sound left him with that abnormal gap in his mouth where a tongue once lived. Pac-Man was never the same again. Pac-Man's vet prescribed a fairly heavy dosage of morphine, and sent him home... he had no home, he was a product of hallucination... a figment of a collective imagination, turned real through the treacheries of war. Morphine just wasn't enough for him anymore, he needed a new fix. He would take anything he was offered. Marijuana, cocaine, heroin, Flinstone's vitamins, crack, Jamaica, Paraguay, Die Hard 2. After one long night at the bar, Pac-Man's drunken rage summoned the police and a zoologist. Pac-Man, vigerously chomping on cars and little children, went berserk when shot with the zoologist's tranquilizer gun. The zoologist became his next meal. The policemen's cries for backup fell on deaf ears as the horrific sounds of a yellow sphere gone mad were trasmitted over radio waves. Pac-Man fled to the mafia scene where he hid out for a while, forming a PCP addiction, training in the arts of a mafia hitman. Big Yella they called him. For Pac, the mafia was too much show, not enough action... just a bunch of softcore yuppies trying to act important. A carbomb, code named Yellabanger, was Pac-Man's solution to the mafia's growing ego, disintegrating his old chums with an adrenaline pulsing blast. Pac-Man found himself a girlfriend. Ms. Pac-Man was working in a strip club when her prince charming came and rescued her. A new life was made for both of life's rejects. They started a family... after some hot pac sex, and the standard three month pregnancy period, common in all pacs, the Pacs were blessed with a pac-child. They named it Gertrude. From here on out, Ms. Pacman and Gertrude were treated to the violent beatings administered to them from Pac-Man, haunted by his shady past as Big Yella, still dependent on PCP, and experimenting with LSD. Oh yeah, and this game is cool, but I suck at it, and everyone's played Pac-Man, so you got to read that garbage instead of a review. The graphics rule, the sound is funked up the yizzo, and there's too many damn dots to eat and no convenient way to get to them all at once! Damn game! It's all fine and dandy now that you can play this game on home systems, but I used to stick quarters into this piece of shiz impossible game! And what the hell, was Ms Pac-Man really necessary? Go play Arkanoid or something. This game gets 5 / 10 stars.