Here is how you can tell a party is over. When there is a break in the conversation and you begin discreetly imagining yourself digging through the pile of coats in the master bedroom, a smiling and mildly drunk guest will approach you and offer to show you how good he is at party magic. He will brandish a cigarette and hold it near his waist, and with a practiced snap of his fingers he will flick it up into his mouth. Ah, you will say, that sure is great. Well, see you later.

Next, he will offer to teach you to juggle, and he will race into the kitchen in search of oranges for the lesson. When he comes back you will be pulling on your boots and air kissing with the hostess, but this will not deter him. Oranges will fly through the air, and the instructor will invite you to try, and you will beg for a raincheck, and if he is polite he will call you a jam-tart and if he is not he will call you something unprintable. You will feel a bit like a party pooper and a bit like you are only being sane and you don't stupid want to learn how to juggle anyway and can't you please just go home now and why won't this dolt leave you alone. It is uncomfortable when a party ends like that.

Sadly, the GameCube is beginning to feel like that sort of party. A super terrific video game system in its early days, it now finds itself resorting to embarrassing gimmicks as it struggles for attention and market share. Consider Donkey Konga 2. It is a music game meant to be played with a set of electric bongo drums instead of the regular controller. It is also the third GameCube bongo-drum game to arrive in stores in the past seven months. It's almost as if the poor machine has given up on winning your favour any other way.

This wouldn't actually be sad news if only Donkey Konga 2 were any good. But it is not good. It is embarrassing. You will cringe while you play it. Here is how it works. First, a song begins to play. "Losing My Religion" by R.E.M., for example. Then you must tap the bongos and clap your hands in time with the music, following cues on the TV screen. You win points for drumming accurately and lose them for being sloppy. At the end, you collect coins. Many rhythm and music games follow similar formats.

Here are the problems. "Losing My Religion". "It's Been Awhile", by Staind. "Unpretty", by TLC. The song selection in Donkey Konga 2 is not just bad, it is bafflingly moronic. This is a party game, and its mascot is a friendly ape in a necktie, and it is all about flashes of bright colour and getting the whole gang together for some hearty drumming and some big laffs. Yet the soundtrack is full of down-tempo dirge music about everything is all f**ked up again and I cannot blame this on my father. (You may have seen the video for "It's Been Awhile." It features an angry man smoking dozens of cigarettes and whining about how he has ruined his life.)

Presumably somebody thought the original Donkey Konga was too cute or too goofy and needed to appeal more directly to a new demographic. That may be true from a big-picture marketing perspective, but a central fact remains: This IS a game about tapping electric bongos with your grandmother in the room. It cannot be made cool. Not that Staind is cool, but you see the point. Incongruity can be neat, but it can also be embarrassing, and Donkey Konga 2 is just about the most embarrassing video game you will ever encounter.

Here is some bonus embarrassment: The recordings are not by the original artists. The "Losing My Religion" guy is not Michael Stipe, and he knows it, and that is probably why he has lost his religion.