Blitz: The League [PS2]

You just don't normally come to arcade-ish sports franchise titles for the deep single-player, the storyline, or any particularly entertaining dialogue; it just goes to show that there's always, as it were, a new bone that can be broken... and brother, bones get broken with Blitz: The League.

It's probably one of the meanest, least-flattering funhouse reflections of the real-world, NFL, second only in uncouthness to that presented by... well, the real-world NFL. Blitz: The League is as foul-mouthed as Grand Theft Auto, as pornographically prone to X-Ray immolation as Rogue Agent, and as shamefully pickled in clownish hip-hop bluster as... well, as a lot of "edgy" sports titles these days. But, God help us all, it's fun.

In terms of "cred," Blitz tries so freaking hard, it would almost be embarrassing... if not for the fact that there's not only a good game wedged all up in here, but a surprisingly engaging one, even for solo players. And any game whose training voiceovers include such rousing, inspirational encouragements as "WAKE... THE [EXPLETIVE DELETED] UP!" must be given props. Er, "propz."

You can start off by messing around with a handful of expertly voiced orientations sessions or you can jump right into the single-player campaign game, in which you raise a customizable team from the ground up (and which, depending on your managerial and financial skills, you may raze right back down to the ground again).

For a game with arcade-based roots, Blitz allows for a satisfying amount of customization -- the helmets, the logo, the color scheme, the stadium, the personalities of the staff, and of course the star players. There's the obligatory waxing young rookie, and waning, seasoned pro, each with their own play styles

Right off the bat, you're making choices that will mold your entire game: Is your trainer an old-school hard ass, or an iffy, but promising, progressive? Is your doctor a loose cannon when it comes to, um, "enhancing" the performance of hurt players (yes, you can choose either approach, with the knowledge that more egregious examples of juicing will sooner or later be caught).

Oh yes, it's all about the dirt: Dirty hits on key opposition players, dirty medicinal practices on your own hurt guys, dirty side-wagers on your own team (not recommended until you know what you're doing), and even, yes, dirty dancing.

Witness the inclusion of your team's pointlessly raunchy "FHM Cheerleaders" (who stretch and strut their suggestive stuff between plays), also editable in terms of both roster and costumes. And besides, they're hot in their roster cards and real videos... but God, they look hideous when represented by their half-baked on-field video game avatars.

Income is, surprise, the lifeblood of your franchise, and potential sponsors want results -- take the League championship or, failing that, at least winding up in a non-shameful spot on the ladder. Displease your potential benefactors and you'll lose them. Cash brings the joys of new equipment, stat-buffing, and even the fun, illegal drugs which make the pro leagues the wonderful, honorable, sack-shriveling institutions they are.

Mechanically, the game is twitchy, brutal (and slightly crunchy-looking) gridiron mayhem. Passes, tackles, and jukes, occasionally ramped up by the "Clash" feature make for some funny/horrible instances of merrily unnecessary roughness. Knocking a guy's helmet off is one thing; wailing on him with it is another.

Particularly wicked sacks are augmented with a quick flash to an X-Ray view, needlessly documenting the tearing of cartilage, the breaking of bones, the bending of appendages in new and interesting ways they ought not to bend, and the like. If you're a long-time (virtual) football player, you'll pick it all up quickly, from the last-minute jukes to the simple, one-button passes to open receivers.

The AI is only adequate, but don't get cocky; the collision approximations are also suspect, and there will be times you could swear you hit the analog stick in the proper direction to thwart a defender, only to be rudely surprised. The rule seems to be, if you're closely flirting with being sacked... you're already sacked. Paranoia is the watchword.

But never mind the ugly stains, here are the sexy bits: Where the solo game occasionally stumbles, the multiplayer has no need for shoes -- humans can make their own mistakes, thank you very much. Your carefully crafted campaign game team can also visit the online and quick-play modes, and the game offers a wealth of unlockable goodies besides.

Visually, Blitz isn't terribly pretty -- but in a symbolic sense, it probably shouldn't be, and only the queeniest graphics-groupies will factor the overall visuals into much of anything. And let's be clear; this is not "good football" by any stretch of the imagination. Blitz: The League is functional, fun, *!#$ed-up fantasy football with enough humor, style, and faux "edge" to keep even the least gridiron-minded among us entertained with its raunchy excess.