![]() ![]() As you burn their twitching torsos to ember crisp, lingering smoke trailing hot fingers around your newborn hide, it's good to be bad. ![]() Three minutes to go: you crawl out, stretch terror and lumber toward incredulous stares, nostrils flaring in their speed-dilating retinas, bristling with the rush of being monster Such foul elation to be hatched just for unjust destruction and ruin. In a flash of loud you're awoken from scaly slumber, virgin lungs itching with trinitrotoluene fire as your crystal eggshell cracks gloopy to their dynamite punch. They're the kind of RPG people whose hungry shoes you're used to filling. Left long unknown, silently un-hatched deep underground the game opens with your egg's discovery by treasure hungry miners. You're one of them: the kind of fire breathing dragon you've slain a thousand times in countless adventures before, each one's plastic case a transparent trophy on your gaming shelf. For five minutes, after the PSP's drive has accelerated and settled into that battery draining hum, the revolutions per minute spinning a scenic tapestry of dark hewn rock, purple half light and cold cave womb around you, Breath of Fire 3 seems delightfully different. ![]()
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