• Soul suckers

    by  • 2/11/2001 • life • 0 Comments

    I’d forgotten why I don’t play RPG style video games that often. I got my hands on the first Zelda game for N64 since it’s much cheaper (and more available) than the newest one. Ocarina of Time. As part of the action of the game, 7 years are stolen away from the hero; Link.

    I can relate. I looked at the clock at 1:30 this afternoon, and thought “I need to find a good place to stop and save the game.” At 7:00 pm I had to force myself to stop. It’s like crack – I want to fire it up again right now.

    All in all, it’s a good game; decent story, really smooth game play and interface. Likely the best interface I’ve seen in a game of this sort, actually. For the most part, the player doesn’t have to piss around with jump buttons and such – if you’re taking a good run at a cliff, that game makes the valid assumption that you’re jumping at the edge. No more trying to get the twitch reflex to trigger on the very last pixel of land. This IS an adventure game, and not a twitch game for the most part (ignoring the fights of course which are mostly twitch).

    Anyhow, I kept thinking that I should be painting. I went so far as to stretch a couple pieces of watercolour paper so that I could toy with the idea of painting on paper again. Nothing so grandiose as pretty little watercolour pictures – likely some nice ugly dirty cave-like paintings that I tend to do on paper. We’ll see.

    For some reason I like stretching paper. I can’t really explain it. I think it’s just that I’m as much about process as I am about finished product. Within reason of course. If life was nothing but stretching paper, I’d get pretty bored. I haven’t stretched paper since I was in college in Red Deer, but the smell of the wet paper tape was unmistakable.

    I suppose I’d have been happier with a couple hours less of Zelda and a couple hours more of painting. There’s something so empty about a video game. I’m thinking that an hour of video game is less fulfilling than the same amount of time watching bad sitcoms. Then again, I think I’m okay with the occasional bit of emptiness; sometimes it’s easier than thinking.


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