Blue Lagoon shitter (Women’s Room)!

This fucking game, man. Here’s a shot of the gendered bathrooms in the hottest club in the citay, the Blue Lagoon. For our purposes, we will just refer to it as La Discothèque Benêt, because the managerial squad of this joint share one single exhausted brain cell.

These club shitters are denoted by gauche and florid neon signs featuring ancient Greek pictograms for the elements thouros (iron) and phosphoros (copper). Madison Paige resigns herself to the pink option and goes in to become Scorching Hot as a requisite component of her quest. You see, when ladies access the bathroom in La Discothèque Benêt, it’s because they wish to become even more exceedingly beautiful, thus vending machines with toothbrushes and hair spra (purse size!) are required. By the way you can’t even go into these stalls, but why would you need to because women don’t poop?! They survive with mirrors and cheap disposable cosmetics alone! Who runs this club, a clique of recently-demonetized YouTubing red pillers, with itty bitty little purse-sized brains?

The actual answer is entrepreneurial sigma crime lord Paco Mendes. The mafia runs the Blue Lagoon. There’s no salvaging the lack of shitter, but let’s just swap that vending junk for some essential club sundries. Change out the fresh kisses n’ pretty smiles crap for condoms, and instead of hair spray make it bear spray. Basic supplies for the gun-toting amateur-journalist-turned-rogue-investigator on the go!


Susan Bowles’ shitter!

Ignore the most disgusting part about this image, that being Detective Scott Shelby erected like a befuddled, hostile moai blockading the entrance to this stellar shitter. Look at that face. No thoughts in head, maybe just wants Pringles.

This is the home of Susan Bowles, a name that clearly states she is a shitter advocate and a woman who didn’t exactly ask for help but Scott Shelby shows up anyway. Without giving up too many details, let’s just say he discovers Susan in the process of ensuring her second child has about as much of a future as her first. Yeesh. But enough about that, get a load of this shitter, the cleanest, most sparkly, gorgeous and artful part of this dreadful scene!

Shitter is gorgeous, gotta give Susan that much credit. It’s good to see she has her priorities straight. But that chipping paint on the door frame has me concerned for baby Emily’s daily intake of lead supplements.


Some High Class Shit!

The investigation into the Origami Killer takes our detectives to the Kramer mansion where a super fun party is taking place. I’ll let you in on a little secret: The party sucks balls, it’s just a bunch of skinny Sims extras doing the Sims Party Dance and many are wearing digital clockface belt buckles that flash the word “COOL” because I guess people have a hard time knowing when and where this party is actually being cool. This festive banquet of amusement is so exclusive that goons are standing guard at the base of the driveway, in the rain, ensuring only COOL people enter. So naturally when an obviously cool guy like Detective Scott Shelby waddles up to the gate in his trenchcoat, presenting his cardboard invitation, they let him right in. He looks like somebody’s dad and he’s Party Cyanide but nobody seems to notice. Lauren Winter begs you to let her slouch in with you because she is such a GREAT DETECTIVE and has a real sixth sense about PEOPLE, but once she’s here she cries about how loud it is and isn’t having any fun, so you are left to explore by yourself.

Well, Detective Shelby is on the case and the first thing I did was locate the shitter. This is the best shitter these avant riche fools could drum up? It looks like it belongs off the reception area of an acupuncturist’s office. I hate concrete sinks to begin with, but this one is also visibly dirty. Raw brass fixtures and shitty Pier 1 fingerpaints. Gag. That MIGHT be Travertine flooring, but the hideous bare bulb vanity surround does not exactly highlight this room’s best features, if it had some. Explain to me why no one could restock either one of these tp rolls, which I would like to point out are chain bolted to the wall. No, everything is wrong. Torch it and start over.

Faintly interesting fact about Heavy Rain: In this scene, you’ll create a diversion with a drunk dude you call “friend” to get past the meatnecks guarding the way upstairs. You do the very same thing at the Thalmor Embassy during the main quest in Skyrim - a game that was released nearly a year later than Heavy Rain.


Crossroad Motel shitter!

I just want to make one thing abundantly clear and that is in the Heavy Rain universe, these people do NOT believe in handwashing, and they do NOT believe in calling 911. And your own wife will absolutely throw you completely under the bus and tell the cops and the FBI that you are definitely a deranged killer, so you probably should have brought that shoebox full of evidence to the police the minute you got your hands on it.

I initially had some hope left over for this Oaf, but he took a piss in this toilet, and then when I went to use the sink to wash my hands he just splashed water on his face! No soap! I dislike this man, but he is under a lot of stress and it’s not entirely his fault that all this happened. I mean what happened to Jason was completely Jason’s fault, and what happened to Shaun was completely the mother’s fault. What is she doing leaving Shaun alone with this moron after what happened to Jason?

Anyway, you decide to get a room at the Crossroad Motel, and this is the shitter there. Gosh, does it ever look depressed to be mixed up in this story. You’re here to try to solve the crime on your own instead of teaming up with FutureCyberRobocop Norman Jayden, the only guy in this entire shitshow that believes in the healing power of technology. Yes, the only way to bring this killer to justice is to keep it all a secret, just like the bad handwashing habits! The trinkets you’re supposed to use as clues are little NUMBERED origami figurines that all correspond to ordeals you must survive just to get another computer chip with a tiny video clip on it of your kid peering up at you from a drain grate. Okay, then why doesn’t this idiot just open the FINAL ORIGAMI figurine FIRST and just go directly to the finish line? Fucking oaf.

It is here in this room that Madison reemerges in the story to help dress the wounds the Main Oaf sustains crawling through a tunnel of glass that defies the laws of physics as to how it got there and she neither 1) washes her hands before applying first aid, nor 2) calls an ambulance as the Oaf tosses and turns in a fever coma throughout the night. A little while later, Madison reveals her insane lifelong fetish of roleplaying as Unqualified Doctor. So it’s not exactly a mystery that when Madison offers to help the Oaf he completely refuses. Yeah, he’s capable of fucking his life up perfectly well on his own.


Madison Paige Easter Egg shitter!

This game has a thing for huge walls of windows and shitters in cubbyholes. And idiots in their underwear. This is Madison Paige, journalist, mere seconds before she is mercilessly slain by a pair of identical twin thugs. My God, what are the odds? When you first meet Madison you don’t know yet that she’s a journalist, instead you think she’s got to be a fucking ninja because of the way she fights off a set of matching goons, like she’s Jason Bourne or Noomi Rapace (in any of various Noomi Rapace movies).

This shitter is also truly a miracle to behold because the only way you are ever going to see it is if you execute a series of quicktime events in a sequence that allows Madison to die in her bathroom. Nice, another silent WITNESS to an unspeakable crime. Survivor’s guilt is pretty common in the shitter community and the blame lies squarely on the developers. Yeah you want to put the shitters in the scene because you know that shit sells. But think of the collateral damage! That shitter is now in the witness protection program. That shitter is Waldo! You’ll never see that shitter again or if you do, you better not refer to it by its former name because it will flat out ignore you. She does not know you. Walk away!

I would like to just quickly point out that Madison Paige has a product called “PAIN” on her linen pantry shelf. I don’t know what that is, but a bucket of pain sounds like a pretty good self-defense implement. Anyway bottom line is the entire ordeal is a stupid fake nightmare and Madison doesn’t really die so that shitter only exists on the astral plane. It was just a prank, bro! That shitter existed for only a moment in time and then was gone. Okay, but everything I said before, about the glib bandying of shitters as traumatic crime props remains a legitimate social concern. They are capable of so much more. Lets see more shitters in cinematic roles as administrators and mentors.


Home filthy Home shitter!

The weirdest shit happens in Heavy Rain and it’s all stuff that has nothing to do with the plot.

This is the shitter in your house that you share with your wife, two sons, and a songbird who has no freedom and no windows and that straight up dies on your watch. Shame on this shirtless oaf for his disregard of the happiness of the bird. After 10 min of bumping into walls it is ‘revealed’ that you are thinking about taking a shower. Of course, you can imagine my delight that the first stop on this journey was the bathroom. But yes “bathroom” it was, only, because in this room there is just a sink, a shower, and separate bathtub that’s located just behind Oaf in this picture. To get to the actual shitter you have to leave the bathroom and it’s on your left in a little closet. There are no windows in either of these rooms. Ridiculous. I disapprove!

It gets worse. In Heavy Rain you can only interact with specific objects at specific times, so you can imagine that it gives me no pleasure whatsoever to rat on this Oaf and tell the entire internet that he does not wash his hands after his encounter with the shitter. He just goes back into the bathroom and shaves his face, and then plays with his kid’s toys, unsanitary hands and all. Disgusting!

Heavy Rain has plenty of opportunities for you to exercise your scorn for the Oaf and his gross habits, including purposefully dropping the groceries, drinking the coffee too fast, and rolling around in the lawn like a dog. Lastly, while playing Heartwarming Plastic Toy Sword Battle with your child, you can make sure that you, the adult, makes it perfectly clear who the man of the house is by completely kicking his ass. Afterward, you’ll see your own scorn for the Oaf is no match for that of his sons, as they leave you passed out on the grass while theyn bolt inside for some delicious lunchies. Fast forward 20 years when only one of the sons still acknowledges you exist. Proper handwashing is so very essential.