I’d spam webbing while simultaneously spinning in a circle, sending Spidey into a spastic, airborn contortion. Every few minutes I’d break from the tedium of whatever the game had tasked me with, and start goofing off.

The small amount of joy I could wring from Gameloft’s The Amazing Spider-Man ($6.99) was found in frantically pulling his string or, in this case, webbing.

The bored kid that I was, this mindless savagery would continue until one of my parents yelled at me. I’d yank at his string, causing him to wildly flail about, hyperextending his legs over his head, smacking him in the face with his own tiny fists. Every Christmas he’d get pinned to the coat closet, and I’d spend way too much time making him dance to the hummed tune of the Tetris theme (I was obviously not a very politically correct child, growing up on a farm in rural Virginia).Īfter a minute or two of this shameful deed, I’d grow weary of simply making him dance. He was a little wooden man with a pull-string dangling between his legs, and when you tugged on the string his arms would move up and down, as if he were jumping, or dancing. When I was a kid I had a jumping-jack toy that looked like a dancing cossack.

The amazing spider man 1 gameloft