I shat bricks when things crashed through windows and startled me, old-school Resident Evil style.
I shat bricks when I fought a massive group of techno-ninjas in a dark office.
I shat bricks when I would turn a corner and find a dude in power armor waiting to ventilate me with a massive nailgun.
I shat bricks when I would accidentally knock over a bucket or chair in an empty room, jarringly interrupting the eerie silence with a startling noise.
I shat bricks when Fettel started dropping massive mechs on me to pummel me with rockets and lasers, at the most unexpected times.
I shat bricks when the replica soldiers would lob a grenade into the tiny cubicle I was hiding in, forcing me to bolt around the corner right into the shotgun ambush they had set up.
I shat bricks when they repeatedly successfully flanked me, time and time again, leaving me not only shouting "god damn it!" at the television, but also in awe of the AI in the game.
I shat bricks when I stormed a parking garage filled with enemies armed only a shotgun and a few machine pistols, while a kickass song reminiscent of the Akira soundtrack blared in the background.
I shat bricks when I realized western artists finally understood what was so appealing stylistically about anime, and successfully managed to isolate those elements from all the cheesy things that make anime really, really suck.
I shat bricks when I couldn't tell if a hallucination was going to injure me or not, perpetually keeping me fearful and on my toes.
I shat bricks when it dawned on me that I was playing a shooter that did not contain horrendous voice acting, dialogue, or an embarassingly bad plot.
...and I shat massive, excruciatingly painful bricks during the final two levels. I shat bricks so massive I will never shit normally again, and I did not sleep that night.
