>Press green button and strum
You can’t use multiple objects with that verb.

Clearly needs to study the material they are satirizing, only when you’re using the slider bar during solo’s can you not strum, unless you turn the slider bar off in options. Even then you can only use the frets by themselves during solos. I object to the inaccuracies, guitar hero is serious business.

While your example is rather amusing, Duck Hunt hasn’t sold multimillion copies in 2008. :)

You’d have more trouble with GTA, Spore or Fallout 3, I dare say.

I did enjoy the title however. I…I think I might watch some TV in gta4 now :(

http://www.thesistersofmercy.com/error404page.html

“The chemist smiles knowingly”

LOLELDRITCH

…That was my true, honest-to-god reaction.

… ah yes, we did. I make no apologies.

On the other hand, Deity of Conflict is the same joke done the same way, and I thought that was a laugh riot and played it twice. Probably the choice of the drunken fratboy narrator made the difference.

Duck Hunt, a seminal retro-indie mash-up IF phenomenon by BooleanBob (some credit reluctantly given to those Nintendo guys)

The scene is a lurid pastiche of neon greens, puce, and robin egg blue. Your view of the wildlife preserve stretches into a seeming eternity of sky, obscured only by a small, unhealthy-looking tree and some kind of bush peeking out above the undergrowth.

You know why you are here. Your family needs to eat. You don’t like that you’re having to steal, but it was either this or try your hand as a Somali pirate, and you’ve never been good with boats.

You are carrying an awkward and unwieldy grey and orange gun. There is a duck here.

Shoot duck

You level your gun at the graceful form of the bird in flight. Unfortunately, whoever crafted your weapon neglected to give it an adequate sight. Three brisk reports ring out, but the animal still honks, still flaps. You have missed.

The duck, ascending, soon flies out of view.

Your dog is here. He is laughing at you.

Shoot dog

(first reloading gun)

You try to shoot your dog, but something is wrong with the gun. Your finger jams the trigger back time and again, but nothing happens. You feel the hairs on the back of your burning neck start to prickle as a mixture of rage and humiliation sweeps across your care-worn features.

et cetera