Prodigious Avian Reviews

Men, Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits and even mighty eagles such as I, must all unite, in order to repel the English.

Since the dawn of integration, from the manuscripts of Tolkien's literary genius, emerged the stygian hued BLACK DESTROYERS. Rabid snarling beasts, beads of drool dripping from their open maws. From their craniums dangled thin strands of sticky, gruel streaked onyx hair. Their dark beady eyes, clouded over by a miasma of thickened, tangible malice. Tolkien unwittingly spawned the beast into the world and out from his novel they surfaced, clubs and slings in hand, intent on burning, looting and slaughtering all in their path. Women cowered, menfolk's countenances were battered and torn to shreds by jagged stones and children ran screaming, only to be ran down and trampled by the BLACK DESTROYERS oxen steeds and flayed alive, for the bemusement of these incorrigible beasts. Truly, their hearts were as black as their flesh. Yet when all dithered about in despair, showing disdain for the Gods and boarding up their homes to weather the age of calamity, the Welsh arrived. Alabaster hued and flaxen haired, cerulean eyed and riding atop of giant eagles, the brethren of the Yr Eryr Wen, the White Eagle, they rained down fury upon the stygian beasts. Pelting them with flagpoles, sending forth barrage after barrage of arrows and when the remaining beasts laid dismayed and baffled, they were hewed them down with blade and spearpoint. These beasts gorged the Welsh swords to the hilt and when the valiant heroes had vanquished these charcoal scum, that was when true carnage against heresy had sprung. The Skalds on that day rejoiced, tales were sung and deeds of valour were embellished. For the field of war was stained with the crimson, sizzling ichor of these inane, rowdy vermin. It was as though a host of boars had galloped through the field and gored each and every frenzied beast, leaving behind marred carcasses. Since that day the field was called Boars Meadow, for the boars have staked their claim in the land and none but those attuned with the ways of the meadow are permitted access, lest they wish to end up like those who fell afore the blades of Cymru.

Hah! If there's one thing I despise more than Greyskins and scalebacks, it's those ruddy faced Englishmen. With their beady eyes, snarling countenances and a penchant for subterfuge. We need to round 'em all up and kick 'em out of Wales. Why, sometimes when I'm feeling carefree and had a bit o' the drink, I like to roam around the district and hurl rocks and obscenities at every English holiday home I stumble across. That'll teach them not to despoil our treasured land!

While some of the unenlightened naysayers, who covet the downfall of Cymru and barring Welsh autonomy from Saesneg swine, may assert that Prodigious Avian is nought more than Cymraeg propaganda, designed to indoctrinate, proselytise and embolden belligerent youth into perpetrating violent crimes against the English, I bed to differ. Instead, I hold the belief that this game is the encapsulation of Welsh culture, starkly reminding all that despite over a millennia of oppression, tyranny and flagrant attempts to smote the Welsh heritage, they persist, defying the odds against a numerically superior foe. They are the folk, who despite being besieged, assailed with barrage after barrage of spears and howitzer fire, muster the courage nestled within their plucky hearts and sing Men Of Harlech, with loud booming voices, defiantly opposing the maleficent foe. Descended from those who sacrificed their petrol and alcohol, creating Molotov's, to firebomb English holiday homes. Whose harps continued to be strung, even after the decimation of Penyberth and the defilement of Welsh poetry and song. Whose heads have never drooped in quiet submission or mortifying capitulation, even after generations of the Saesneg attempting to besmirch, mar, tarnish and denigrate their austere and august culture. It is clear that they will remain in Wales, mingling the Fae and biding the day when every Saesneg is whipped and shocked with a cattle prod, until they inevitably flee from Albion and return to the blackened bogs of Germania. Dwyt ti'm yn cofio Macsen Does neb yn ei nabod o Mae mil a chwe chant o flynyddoedd Yn amser rhy hir i'r cof Pan aeth Magnus Maximus o Gymru Yn y flwyddyn 383 A'n gadael yn genedl gyfan A heddiw, wele ni Ry'n ni yma o hyd Ry'n ni yma o hyd Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Ry'n ni yma o hyd Ry'n ni yma o hyd Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Ry'n ni yma o hyd Chwythed y gwynt o'r Dwyrain Rhued y storm o'r môr Hollted y mellt yr wybren A gwaedded y daran, "encôr" Llifed dagrau'r gwangalon A llyfed y taeog y llawr Er dued yw'r fagddu o'n cwmpas Ry'n ni'n barod am doriad y wawr Ry'n ni yma o hyd Ry'n ni yma o hyd Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Ry'n ni yma o hyd Ry'n ni yma o hyd Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Ry'n ni yma o hyd Cofiwn i Facsen Wledig Adael ein gwlad yn un darn A bloeddiwn gerbron y gwledydd Byddwn yma tan Ddydd y Farn Er gwaetha pob Dic Siôn Dafydd Er gwaetha 'rhen Fagi a'i chriw Byddwn yma hyd ddiwedd amser Bydd yr iaith Gymraeg yn fyw Ry'n ni yma o hyd Ry'n ni yma o hyd Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Ry'n ni yma o hyd Ry'n ni yma o hyd Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Ry'n ni yma o hyd Ry'n ni yma o hyd Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Ry'n ni yma o hyd Ry'n ni yma o hyd Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth Er gwaetha pawb a phopeth

I would like to thank my honeyboo Rangerkins for gracing me with the privilege of espying and purchasing this game. While I was initially dubious of the games quality, as all the screenshots appear to be blatant Welsh propaganda, or attempts at simulating warcrimes against members of the Welsh parliament, I am fortunately mistaken. In some aspects gameplay exists, and for that I am thankful. Rangerboo always has a knack for discerning games of merit and worth, and I'm exuberant to see that his perceptive eye has evinced another sublime find! Father God, everyday help me to remember to put on Your Armour. I need this armour to protect my mind from things that are not of You, I need it to guard my heart from acting on emotions rather then with Your Spirit, I daily need it to remind myself that I am a child of Yours and that I do not serve the fire imp anymore. I need the armour to be an instrument of peace and not react with my old nature. When those fiery darts start flying I need your armour to shield myself from them, and Lord, let Your Words speak through me to those in darkness, penetrating the enemy and crushing his plans. In Jesus' Name, Amen.

The English are not wolves. They are sheep, strutting about on floccose legs and bleating. Although they attempt to delude all into believing they are champions, Kings and warriors, they are beasts of burden, prey, ripe for wolves such as I to lunge towards and gobble with avarice. My first encounter with a genuine Englishwoman was back in highschool. The lady was corpulent, unusually tanned, with a bulbous, bulging belly. From the moment she welcomed me past the gate, I knew from her petulant warble that she was an Englishman. Yet upon querying as to if she was ‘British’, she regarded me with a stern demeanour, outright animosity in fact, asserting quite arrogantly that she was ‘Welsh’. I remember this day distinctly, for it was as though I had kicked a puppy and walloped a janitor with an iron bar and left him slumped, drowning in his bucket of murky grime. I know full well however, that she was attempting to deceive I, for it is a well known English trick to feign being Welsh and act like arrogant, contemptible wastrels, in an attempt to besmirch the pristine reputation and praise that the Welsh are frequently perceived with. Dismissing this faux Englishwoman, it wasn’t until I travelled to London itself, that I reached the epiphany about the true character of the English. I was but a young lad, eager at the prospect of travel overseas. I had even gone to the trouble of purchasing a Victorian era top hat and donning it, in an attempt to integrate with the locals. Albeit it didn’t matter, for the Englishman is able to scent one not of their brood with pinpoint accuracy. Everywhere I tarried, I was accosted, yelled at with obscenities, men from across the road boisterously screamed, “NICE HAT YOU WANKER” whilst pointing at the dented flower pot they call a skull. I even had random vagrants, strewn upon the floor and muttering unintelligibly to themselves look at I as a kindred spirit and attempt to coerce I into dancing and making a mockery of myself in broad daylight. EVEN shop owners and staff, who are obligated to show courtesy, for I am the one who feeds and financially supports them, were arrogant. Cruelly dismissing my lovely hat! The nerve of some people. After this moment, I began researching them, scrutinising every aspect of their history and I must say, they have been a rather naughty race. A history of annexation, pompous tomfoolery and lunacy is what comprises ‘English culture’. Even their neighbours, most notably the venerable Welsh, are facing the plight of their culture and race being eroded by history’s foulest brood. Men and women of the world and common sense, take it upon yourself to research Capel Celyn and various other atrocities that the English have committed and you too will realise why a stake must be driven through the Saesneg’s vampiric, dull heart. No amount of verbal sense or decency will sway them, for they are not like us, they regard diplomacy as a susceptibility and pounce on any attempt at amiability. Do not be naïve, as the Welsh and Highlanders once were, leave them bristling with arrows if they knock on your door, vanquish them with fire and war and display that we, by the grace of God almighty, are not English swine!

Oh man, Goobah, Joobah, my name is MrChicken, known more colloquially by my sobriquet as Bathboy, and I just love to have a wash. I want to say that this game is really wholesome and based. In fact it does a little bit of trolling, 9MM moment! It’s like handling a Glock sideways like a gangster, screaming bloody murder with the Crips yo. BLACK WOMAN! Yeah I’m quirky, cry about it. Just an alpha Bathboy who likes to nibble mushrooms if you get what I’m saying. But those normies out dere in tha CITY and those YUPPIES who can afford happy meals, don’t know what it means to be a pauper man. They don’t know that I need a 10 percent discount on Happy Meals, so I can buy more anime figures. It’s officially, indisputably, unequivocally over! RED COOLAID. To many promiscuous women in America, I’m blackpill coping right now, hedonism is all about AMRIKA. Whatever, them hoes don’t know what they missing out on yo. Oh and sorry if I’m patronising you WOMEN, I’m just a Bathboy who mansplains and says it how it is. Another win for the chicker wicker, Bathboy out!

I've been looking for you. Got something I'm supposed to deliver, your hands only. Ah, let's see here... Here's a letter from the Welsh. Looks like official business. Looks like that's it. Got to go. Letter: Greetings. I am Lord Quercus, the presiding king of the Welsh, and I have the honour of being the governor of Prodigious Avian, an archaic and noble tapestry of art, residing on Steam. The notoriety of your exploits across Wales has brought you to my attention. Gnawing upon our crops, screeching obscenities at Welsh children, setting cars alight, flaunting your genitalia, abducting virile maidens to engage in Discord sleepcalls with, alongside a myriad of countless other transgressions upon law and order. You are an incorrigible larrikin, a persistent nuisance, and am immense one at that. Next time you arrive in Gwent, I invite you to run in front of my car, in which I will proceed to floor the accelerator, trampling you beneath the rubber, following by I exiting my vehicle and kicking your head in, until you lay strewn upon the road, as a violently beaten cadaver, besmirched by conspicuous tire marks and droplets of leaking petrol. Earnest regards from the Lord of the ironwood boughs, legitimate and lawful medical practitioner, ordained by Oxford Scholars and the Warden of Rivellion. I look forward to meeting you in person.

I'm not welsh enough to understand what is happening, but it doesn't matter. The emotions, the story, it effected me to my very soul. I shed a tear and yet another for every Welshman. This game has encouraged me to pack my bags and move to whales. My life will never be the same again.

There are games that touch the heart, games that make you think, but none other than Prodigious Avian have fondled my pancreas with such white-knuckled fervour. The story is simple enough: You are a small creature who must make it from one side of the screen to the other while avoiding the many dangers of this vast landscape. Your goal: Fly through every level as high as you can in order to save the princess. As the title of the game might suggest, Prodigious Avian isn’t your ordinary game. Its levels are made to be a puzzle, requiring clever use of your flapping abilities in order to overcome obstacles, such as traps, lasers, and spiked ground that would be fatal in other games. Your time can be further extended by the use of the game’s in-game power-up system, which is accessed through the game’s menus. Through tapping the touchscreen, you can access a number of power-ups, which can be tapped to be used in a given level. The power-ups include a jump boost, a wall-crawling mode, a shield, a laser beam, and various other abilities. You can even tap a particular power-up at the beginning of a level to make it last the entire level (and avoid all danger that the level may otherwise present). Each level is broken up into several stages that are designed in such a way that using the power-ups will almost always net you a high score and a possible “Super” title. For instance, in the first stage of level one, you are faced with several dangers such as being attacked by the aforementioned spike traps, as well as a laser blast that is fired from a cannon above your level that must be avoided by tapping on your screen. In stage two, you must navigate your way around lasers and through a spike-strewn terrain with your little birdy wings, avoiding the spike traps as well as hitting the goal to score high enough to earn the “Super” title. In fact, you can earn the “Super” title in about forty seconds in the level. (edited) [2:20 AM] Prodigious Avian is a highly addictive game with an incredible variety of levels. Its graphics are quite simple, but it is still quite effective. The backgrounds are varied in terms of what they might look like, such as the first level in which the goal is to reach a floating star. In some levels, the background isn’t even in view, so that you are left alone with the task of using your little wings to fly up to the level’s goal. There are also five different music tracks, three of which are in the game’s power-up stages. In fact, there are only five levels in the game, but the game has an in-depth play mode that allows you to replay any of the game’s levels. This is a very unique title, and not only does it add up to five entirely different and challenging game levels, but also it has a very high replay value. The game is definitely a worthy title for any relatable hardcore gamer.