![]() It’s impossible to dislike King, the Jaguar-headed luchador who dresses like he owns a pop-up clothes shop in Shoreditch. I’m not going to try and take that away from anyone. I’m not going to even try and take that away from you. If you played as Heihachi you were basically just… a completely normal person. He’s meant to be the main villain of the Tekken series but everybody loves him anyway, even despite all his murdering of family members, even despite his open-toed sandals and unnecessary but seemingly constant bare chestedness. He makes really, really odd grunting noises when he fights, too, like you’re listening to a Rafael Nadal/Serena Williams baseline rally. He is also electric, somehow, as in, electricity will come out of him when he punches you. Fortunately, he can get away with fluctuating between these two completely incongruous states of being through the sheer force of will of his personality. One is a hot grandad yoga instructor which is yeah, great, but also, alternatively, there’s his nefarious, gangland pimp, opium mogul side to go with it. Heihachi, as you can see, had two completely different vibes. And those are words to live by my friends. She would just batter me, no matter what I did. And that taught me a valuable lesson as a young boy: never ever ever get on the wrong side of a small woman with her hair tied up. She would turn my hopes and dreams into ash. She would, how do I put this, how do I word this to accurately reflect the level of emotional and physical pain and destruction she would inflict upon me, she would… beat the absolute living breathing fucking shit out of me. Xiaoyu was, without a doubt, the character who gave me the hardest time on the game. I pray to God you are in the a) category. If you were the type of person that played as Yoshimitsu, again, this unknowable amalgamation of nonsense all sort of slopped together into one obscenely cool, obscenely weird, fighting character, then you were either a) also a cool person yourself or b) a person who has since grown up to be a neckbeard, messageboard incel who also has a YouTube channel where you chop up water bottles with a samurai sword. ![]() For example, in my opinion, all things considered, Yoshimitsu is… a kind of human-cyborg ninja in a suit of armour who holds a lightsaber that he doesn’t really use much, instead choosing to mostly just jab people with that hand, rather than simply eviscerate them, you know, with his laser sword, and can kind of clone himself if he wants and teleport and also fly? Without looking it up, try and explain what Yoshimitsu is. So what I’m saying, what I’m saying is that adult me eternally regrets child me not giving them the time of day. Would I relish piercing straight through the chests of my fallen opponents in my stilettos like their skin tissue was wrapping paper? Yes. As I result, I do not think it is fair for me to comment on those who did. (You were also, most of the time, me).Īs a young boy with semi-problematic opinions on how effective an angular-breasted assassin in heels would be in a street brawl, I can’t say I ever played as either Nina or Anna Williams. If you picked Hwoarang you were a champion. Once you had properly learned how to utilise his full array of kicks you could basically just juggle your opponent in the air by booting them repeatedly.Įven better, once you mastered switching his stance you were practically unbeatable due to his otherworldly combination of range and speed. Or more specifically, he was my boy, a ripped, ginger biker/cowboy/taekwondo prodigy who could basically kick the skin off his opponents’ face. What I’m going to do is: Go through all the characters in Tekken 3 (why Tekken 3? Because Tekken 3 is the best Tekken, you idiot) and explain what each choice says about you. ![]() Doesn’t it sound funny? Repeat it) I will keep the rest of this intro short so the word doesn’t lose all meaning. Please.Ĭonscious of the fact that I have used the word ‘Tekken’ an innumerable amount of times already, so much that the word is quickly beginning to lose all meaning (say it in your head. That’s the thing in my chest that keeps me alive. Instead, you’ll pull out a framed picture of Jack-2 and Yoshimitsu celebrating moments after one of the many millions of trouncings I used to dish out on Tekken Bowl (the mini-game in Tekken Tag Tournament). I just have fond memories of Tekken. If you were to disinfect a scalpel, make an incision just beneath my ribcage and thrust a blue latex-gloved hand up inside me to rummage around and find an actual, physical beating lump of muscle then you’ll be disappointed. In fact, my heart has actually been completely erased by Tekken. I have to be completely honest here: several Tekken games hold a special place in my heart. I was, unfortunately, a shithouse (on occasion). If you picked Eddy Gordo you were a shithouse.
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