Type "tits" into Google's image search and look at the thumbnail pictures of naked women that appear. Now take two twenties out of your wallet and set them on fire. Congratulations, you've just played The Guy Game.

This simulacrum of a good time is a video game where up to four players answer trivia questions in the hopes of seeing skanky college girls on spring break flash their boobs. Drinking-game rules appear on screen reminiscent of the terrible old Mad Magazine Board Game, such as, "Each player must hold his nipple whenever he speaks." The player with the most points is known as the President (presumably Clinton), while the low-scorer is the Asshole (presumably Bush). The President picks the drinking game rules and can also instigate humiliating punishments on the Asshole, in a scenario reminiscent of Lord of the Flies.

So this game consists of booze, giggly pseudo-porn, four guys on a couch playing with joysticks, and the ability to punish the Asshole. Obviously the developer's intention is clear: The Guy Game is the perfect vehicle for hooting frat boys to consensually explore their not-so-latent homosexuality, because a drunken, shame-laden circle jerk is the optimal Guy Game experience.

The first thing you should know if you're even vaguely contemplating a purchase of this rancid cheese slab is that the nudity is obscured. Bouncing game logos cover the co-eds' momentarily naked boobs, and though you can uncover them (if you must), you can only do so by laboriously replaying the same section of the game until you memorize all the trivia questions. And then, of course, you're onto the next section, where you have to do it all over again.

It doesn't help that after playing The Guy Game I watched David Cronenberg's film Videodrome, which also features tits, though it's Deborah Harry stubbing out a lit cigarette on her boob, so it's not exactly the same thing. Or is it? The parallels were eerie, and I began to wonder if perhaps The Guy Game was trying to awaken dormant organs in my brain with encoded signals. Videodrome tells us that the battle for the mind of North America will be fought in the video arena, and if you replace "mind" with "cock" then you're pretty close. Can you tell which line comes from Videodrome and which one comes from The Guy Game?

"These people... they don't do it for money. They have something you don't... a philosophy."

"That's nearly a baker's dozen of sweater muffins, which should have you poppin' fresh in no time. Hopefully by now your Flash-O-Meter is at the Super Stiff Level!"

Okay, that wasn't much of a challenge after all--I guess we're safe from having The Guy Game cause our bodies to erupt in a bloody explosion of cancerous flesh. But it does remind me of one of the game's many noxious features: the Flash-O-Meter, which shows you how close you are to getting unobstructed views of naked ta-tas. The indicator is a little arrow, and when it goes up it spurts semen on your television screen. Doesn't that sound like fun? Hoody-hoo!

The website for The Guy Game trumpets one reviewer's statement that the game is "aimed squarely at testosterone-laden college students, spring breakers, and, well, any red-blooded American guy." But do roofie-dropping frat boys really buy those Girls Gone Wild videos? I always thought that market was lonely thirtysomethings who haven't gotten laid since college, or dirty old pervs who pretend they're ogling juggy 12-year-olds while they're roughing up the suspect. Randy college guys in search of date-rape targets can just go to spring break, after all, or even to their friendly neighborhood sorority. They don't need to sober up long enough to make a credit-card transaction. So who the hell is The Guy Game for? Surely the market of closeted, self-loathing frat boys in search of an excuse to drunkenly gang-bang their most baby-faced pledge isn't large enough to support the development of an entire video game. Or is it?

As Professor Brian O'Blivion would say: Long live the new flesh!