Cookie Cutter Money Prison Online
M. Shaw
One of the best un-talked-about aspects of video games is their general lack of soul-crushing suburban sprawl. They don’t need it. There’s not even anywhere to put it.
One of the best un-talked-about aspects of video games is their general lack of soul-crushing suburban sprawl. They don’t need it. There’s not even anywhere to put it.
After playing hours and hours and hours of a so-called “open world” game that simulated a wilderness realm in which I was an outlaw and member of a gang of men and women and children who lived together in a camp on a wooded plateau not far from a town called “Valentine”
My grandfather died in the spring and I spent what, in my memory, was my entire spring break playing DOA 3. My parents were at work or dealing with the aftermath.
I understand the comfort afforded by an endless grind for which the only reward is more grind, perhaps a little too well. It’s about maintaining the appearance of working toward something, without the pressure of having to derive any ultimate fulfillment from whatever it is.
I haven’t even beaten my favorite game, the one I started with: Ocarina of Time. I have tried many times since my dad beat it. I can easily navigate the Great Deku Tree, Dodongo’s Cavern, and Lord Jabu-Jabu’s Belly. Once, I got stuck at the Water Temple (a classic spot to fail). The last time I tried, I got stuck in the Gerudo Fortress. Even looking up how to sneak past the busty Gerudo women, I couldn’t figure it out.
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