In fact it’s so unremarkable that the very act of playing it created some sort of quantum collapse, erasing it from my memory completely. It’s like Bizarre Creations cut off Sam Fisher‘s testicles, then melted down every half-decent feature from every cover-based third person shooter ever made into a bitter, lumpy paste, before forcing gamers worldwide to drink the concoction out of Sam’s hollowed out scrotum. I can’t believe how mediocre 007: Blood Stoneis.
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