Your beloved father, who you used to play with every day as a child, one day went out to buy a packet of cigarettes, and never came back, who you assumed was dead, but alas, after over a decade of waiting, and longing, he turns up on your front lawn, sunburnt, unconscious, with a bottle of Jack in one hand, and a pile of outdated game play mechanics in the other. This is the worst kind of fan-service, the kind that repulses anyone who used to care about this franchise, and destroys an already dead series. Oh, and there's bewbs. Have fun anyone who's ten, or dumb. I'm sure you'll love it.