The math just adds up to "you need to pay to really play'. Even playing a lot wouldn't help as you'll find that you run out of areas to attack (if you want to have more areas you either have to intercept ones at a cost of crystals, or pay for more areas to open up. just don't get frustrated that you won't be upgrading any time soon, unless you're willing to pay a lot. Each level is short, so it's enough to keep you entertained for a bit. you're destined to just have a bad time.Īfter all that you'll like this game. Place that when you're about to go past the falling stones or the mega egg robot who fires the huge burning rocks. You can't hit the rocket until it's 'in range', and at that point there's no time for your weapon to hit it. if the rocket hits you, you transform into a washing machine for a few minutes (meaning you take a lot of damage). The problem is you get to a point where rockets are firing at you. My biggest complaints are the point where you get the Terrence character.
#Transformers robotize me full#
Maybe with your help, its worldwide earning might even overtake the GDP of the Philippines, a fairly moderate sovereign economy located in Southeast Asia and home to around fifty million people whose daily meal is equal to the amount of money you are about to spend to watch Revenge of the Fallen.The other twist is that any damage you incur in the game is cumulative, meaning if you take 1 heart of damage in a level if you want to fight at full health you'll have to pay to heal him.
#Transformers robotize me movie#
I might as well stop and just let you and the rest of the world storm to the movie theaters and spend two and a half hours of your life watching this flick, and contribute to its ever-increasing haul. Bay utilizes every trick in his three-page pamphlet of directorial techniques, and what we essentially get is a headache-inducing encyclopedia of what the grossly inadequate director learned making such classic crowd favorites as Bad Boys (1995), The Rock (1996), Armageddon (1998), Pearl Harbor (2001), and Bad Boys II (2003): slow-mos, circular pans, explosions-in-exchange-for-logic storytelling, boobs-butt-and-legs-in-exchange-for-personality characterization, and obviously manufactured sentimentalism.īut what the heck, you're not going to listen anyway and still award this heap of trash with heaps of your hard-earned cash.
The story is all over the place, jumping from one focal point to another like a horny Lothario in Amsterdam's red light district, but essentially getting nowhere. Rafael stachowiak freundin, Lucent gk video download, Robotize me, Eb bill status. It is not so much the intellectual void that bothers me but the fact that the film is to put it plainly, sensually torturous. I listened to my friends who advised me to "leave your brain outside the cinema and just enjoy the show." I did exactly that, but I was still annoyed by this gargantuan vomit ball. Sure, they are colorful, humongous, and they make loud noises and huge explosions when they fight, but they are essentially ornaments, whose most acknowledged function in the franchise is to help sell action figures and burger meals, nothing more.ĭon't get me wrong. Bumblebee, the franchise's inconsequential mascot (designed without a voice but with puppydog mechanical eyes), descends to factotum status. Even his death, accompanied with the requisite slow-mo and music, failed to move me. Optimus Prime, the supposed figurehead of the good transformers, is disposable scrap. Unfortunately, none of that really matter because the transformers who matter are as dull as earthworms hunting for prey. Bay's team of writers detail a transformer's life cycle, from how they are hatched from transparent eggs to age into grumpy yet noble giants. I appreciate the effort to de-robotize the transformers. Revenge of the Fallen is the cinematic equivalent of a pimply thirteen year old kid who is suffering from a chronic case of bursting libido, with only gigabytes of internet pornography and succeeding wet dreams to quell his overactive hormones.
Fox's shimmering leg, and a Decepticon transforming into every shallow-headed college boy's dream girl. Thus, some of us have to suffer through a bulldog and a chihuahua in visualized acts of fornication, a squeaky-voiced robot humping Ms. This is not the adult and mature understanding of sex, but the prepubescent one, where each hump equates to a giggle and a high five between friends. Bay's sequel has this incessant need to nag about sex. Thus, Revenge of the Fallen is grossly ostentatious in its excesses. Michael Bay, who effectively turned the 80's cartoons inspired by a line of robot toys into a massively lucrative movie franchise by following his gut instinct of dishing out entertainment that satisfies humanity's basest cravings, sex and violence (and more importantly, without the accompanying guilt of devouring such pleasures), reuses the formula, only this time with larger doses.
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