REVIEW: Jazzpunk

March 23, 2014 | Steven

It is the year 1959B, and the Soviets are up to no good. I know this because I am a secret agent, an invisible tool my government deploys for tasks requiring the utmost discretion – like, say, stealing a Soviet hard drive from their imposing headquarters. Sounds difficult? Maybe for an amateur like you – but professionals like me always have a plan. Naturally, it begins in the park outside the headquarters. I walk up to my contact and say hello to him. “WHERE IS THE MACGUFFIN?” he screams at me, with impressive volume. Confused, I ask him again, and get the same reply, only louder. I wander off to ask a passerby what a MacGuffin is, but the first guy I run into asks me for some gum. I hand my last stick to him, and he blows a bubble so big that it bursts in his face, blinding him. He then, naturally, rolls into oncoming traffic.

This isn’t what I signed up for.

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