Look, I never ask you for anything. Ok, I borrowed your car once, and I stole your girlfriend's belt when I was drunk last weekend, and I was the one who left your gate open that night your dog ran away, but I never ask for anything, right?

I need you to go buy Valkyria Chronicles for the PlayStation 3. I know it's snowing and the roads are equal parts ice and death at the moment, but there's a Fred Meyer's just down the road and I'm sure they have a few copies. Fuck, the game only debuted last week and didn't even crack the top 100 sales list. Worldwide it only moved 33,000 copies.

For comparison, Halo 3 sold more than 33,000 copies to religious schools for the blind.

It totally doesn't deserve it either! The game is a ball of awesome wrapped in Valium! Picture this: The History Channel gives a $2 million grant to a random Japanese teenage girl and asks her to tell the story of World War 1. In crosshatch. With unnecessary film grain.

You know how you love film grain!

The gameplay is a cross between Final Fantasy Tactics and something that won't put you to sleep. Something awesome. Something that doesn't even have an English name because our language is unduly restrictive and the written word has been decaying since the death of Oscar Wilde.

Plus, there's these dudes who shoot lances at people! It's cerebral as a motherfucker.

If you're going to be stuck inside for the next few days while Stormpocalypse '08 purges Portland of anyone sans Gert Boyle-approved winterwear you may as well be playing Valkyria Chronicles.

If my metaphorical prose handjob above wasn't enough to sway you, how about you drop the $60 for a copy just to make Sega happy? The economy is a harsh mistress this time of year, and without your support Sonic the Hedgehog could be turning the fastest tricks this side of Heidi Fleiss on a meth bender by January.