This is without a doubt one of the strangest pieces of software I have ever come across.

Here?s the gist: You create your deep-sea diving avatar from what has to be the most limited create-a-character interface I have seen in the past 10 years or so. Choose from a couple of faces. Select a hair style. Pick a tan (no joke).

I was OK with my blank-faced -- but George Hamilton-tanned -- avatar, until I saw my diver in 3-D for the first time and realized that he possessed a secret ponytail that was not the least bit visible on the character creation screen.

The ponytail made my avatar look more like a just-divorced community college professor than a danger-craving deep-sea diver. So right away, Endless Ocean and I got off on the wrong foot.

And the foot only got more wrong from there.

First stop for me and my community college prof: the deck of the Gabbiano, my 80-foot sailboat that?s captained by a woman whom the game?s developers tried very hard to make as ugly as possible.

She sports unflattering eyeglasses, and wears a lame we?re-going-down-people life jacket constantly. (We soon discover that she can?t swim, which explains why you must do all your diving solo.) The poor woman looks like she failed out of macram? school. Mark your calendars, folks, because this may very well be the first instance in videogame history where a woman is not the least bit sexualized.

The gameplay -- and I?m not sure the words ?game? or ?play? should be used when discussing this disc -- consists of going on a series of increasingly complex dives and meeting a series of increasingly complex objectives. Early dives have you swimming in a certain direction a few hundred feet, letting you get more familiar with the game?s controls. Soon, you?re locating treasures, taking clients on guided dives, and making friends with a dolphin.

Yes, I said, ?Making friends with a dolphin.?

Blowing a whistle brings your dolphin pal to the stern of your boat. Once he arrives, you can teach him tricks through a somewhat obscure series of Wii remote motions. Mostly what I did is wave the Wii remote around until the dolphin started going nuts and putting on a show that trumps anything I?ve ever seen at SeaWorld Orlando. This is one talented dolphin, let me tell you.

Between dives, you can model various diving suits and equipment that you?ll unlock over the course of the game. Or you can go pet the giant penguins that seem loiter on the boat deck. Or you can -- again, no joke -- sit in a lounge chair, rest your ponytail, and just watch the virtual world go by.

Yes, I said, ?Sit in a lounge chair, rest your ponytail, and just watch the virtual world go by.?

Diving requires pointing the Wii remote in the direction you want to go, then kicking your flippers with a pull of the B trigger. When you stumble upon a fish, you can lock onto it with the A button. This lets you follow it around as you poke at it continually until the game makes a magical ?voila!? sound, and you realize that you?ve somehow learned the fish?s name.

Keep poking at it -- or feeding it (press up on the d-pad to bring up the Feed option) -- and you?ll keep learning about it.

This is obviously not terribly realistic. Anything I?ve ever poked in my life usually runs away from me. Worse still, here it also proves to be -- shudder -- educational.

I?m joking of course. Or am I? Honestly, I don?t mind learning via videogames. What I do mind is when a game makes it so painfully obvious that it?s a didactic experience -- and nothing more than a didactic experience. After all, if zombies can teach me to type via Typing of the Dead -- thanks, zombies! -- why can?t Nintendo to find a way to make a game about deep-sea diving vaguely interesting?

To be fair, there are some nice moments here and there, moments when for a few, fleeting seconds you really do feel the ocean deep opening up around you. But those moments were always quickly countered by the awkward controls, the Celine Dion-esque soundtrack, or -- shudder again -- more learning.

As a gamer, I never really felt compelled to dig deeper, to look closer, or to pet fish -- just for the sake of maybe learning its Latinate name or unlocking a new blue snorkel. Which brings me to the Crispy Gamer $5 question of the day: For whom, exactly, is this game designed?

Perhaps there?s an 11-year-old budding marine biologist in the landlocked Midwest who might play this thing to death. Or perhaps there?s a 41-year-old stoner who likes to smoke up and, you know, just drift, man.

What I do know is that Endless Ocean, with its danger-free (poke those sharks, they won?t mind), slow-paced, educating ways, is most definitely not for me.

And unless you want a kick in the pants for Father?s Day this year, or your kids actually are budding marine biologists, don?t buy Endless Ocean for them.

Verdict: Fry it. With some onions. Maybe a little olive oil.

This review was based on a retail copy of the game provided by the publisher.