First off: GOD MODE ON. I play to empty my head, not get into a position where I rage quit.

Haven't played this title in a while and recently repurchased it for my PC since I only ever had it on console. This should be fun. Or it could be an absolute nightmare. And between all this I am babysitting a Turkey that is smoking on the smoker have a little patience if you don't see me sitting in the chair for a minute.

Today I dug up Tiger Woods PGA Tour 08 for the PlayStation 2 — a game that proudly announces, “We’ve reinvented golf,” and then immediately hands you a golfer built like a wet napkin and clubs forged from recycled cafeteria trays. You start by designing your golfer, picking your “luck,” and pretending any of it matters. Then the game punts you straight into a tournament because the one‑on‑one Tiger Challenge is locked behind a wall of “No, you’re not good enough yet, champ.” Classic EA. And then comes the swing. The analog swing. The swing that behaves less like golf and more like trying to draw a straight line on a roller coaster. Every shot is a mystery. Will you hook it into the trees? Slice it into a different ZIP code? Or — once every 40 attempts — accidentally hit something resembling a golf shot? Meanwhile, progression crawls forward like a wounded tortoise. You earn XP in microscopic crumbs, slowly upgrading your stats from “embarrassing” to “slightly less embarrassing,” all while saving up for clubs that don’t look like they were purchased at a yard sale behind a bowling alley. It’s a grind. It’s a struggle. It’s a spiritual test. It’s golf as interpreted by a malfunctioning Roomba. But that’s why we’re here — to resurrect this relic, laugh at its chaos, and document the moment EA Sports tried to simulate “real golf mechanics” using a PS2 analog stick that drifts like a shopping cart with a broken wheel. Welcome to the Tiger Woods 08 Experience. Where the swing hates you, the stats mock you, and the clubs are ashamed to be seen with you.

For the first time since I started playing back in 2008, I decided to roll a Goblin Mage — and wow, was that a mistake. The early Goblin zones are usually a breeze… unless you’re a Mage. The moment you hit the Goblin zombie area, reality sets in fast: you’re under‑armored, outmatched, and the nearest repair vendor might as well be 50 miles away. This has been a known issue for over a decade — players have complained about it endlessly, Blizzard is fully aware of it, and yet it remains untouched. Meanwhile, in the very beginning of the Goblin storyline, right in the starting city, Blizzard recently added new dialogue where none existed before… and later on, they even tweaked mechanics in sections that were already perfectly fine. All of this before the notoriously broken Goblin zombie zone. Put the pieces together and it becomes obvious: they found time to change things nobody asked for, but still haven’t fixed the one problem players have been calling out for years. If you’ve never experienced this chaos firsthand, don’t worry — this video illustrates it beautifully.

We’re firing up Sprint Car Road to Knoxville on the PlayStation 2 — a game I played nonstop 20 years ago before the PS3 ever entered my house. This was the dirt racing game for me, and honestly? It still holds up. The physics are fun, the mechanics are learnable, and unlike modern racing titles that assume you want to spend half your life tuning setups, this one gives you Auto Tune. It’s optional, it works, and it saves you from guessing every time track conditions shift — even in single‑night events. Yeah, the pastel car colors were always weird. The palette is limited, everything trends beige, and it never made sense. But the racing action more than makes up for it. Technical note: We’re running this through PCSX2, which is why the footage looks so clean. PS2 games were engineered in a way that makes them perfect for upscaling, and with the right tweaks, they shine. Part One of the Road to Knoxville series starts now.

Part Two of the Wheel of Fortune PS2 series is here — five rounds of pure pattern recognition, fast solves, and a couple of moments where the AI basically handed me the first few letters and I said “Cool, thanks,” and solved without spinning. This is one of the best showcases of Autistic Pattern Mapping you’ll ever see in a retro game. The board lights up, a few letters drop, and the entire phrase just clicks. No hesitation, no wasted turns, no drama — just instant recognition. The computer players try their best, but the PS2-era AI wasn’t built for this level of decoding. Meanwhile, I’m still waiting on my alleged prize tickets to the Calgary Stampede, because if anyone earned them, it’s the guy solving puzzles before the wheel even warms up. Five rounds. Zero nonsense. Maximum pattern recognition.