5 Personality Flaws Skyrim Forces You To Deal With
Quick: Look to your left, then look to your right. One of those people is a nerd. It's easy to tell which one, just look for the nerd-shaped hole in the universe where a person used to be. If you've been wondering why it's the geek rapture out there, it's because November is like gaming's sweeps month. Anybody with excess funds and poor impulse control problems is slowly starving to death in front of their computer or console right now. Zelda, Assassin's Creed, Batman, Battlecall: Field of Duty and Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim have all been released within a few weeks of one another. The most dangerous siren's call, for me, is sung by the latter: Skyrim is vast, complex and incredibly dense. Every aspect of it breathes authenticity and organicity. It is less a game than it is a fantastical life simulator. And that is very bad news for those of us who might be terrible assholes and still kind of in denial about it. Because so far, thanks to Skyrim, I've had to admit that I have ...
An Incredibly Boring PersonalityOne of the first things my wife said, after watching me play Skyrim for a few minutes, was, "What must the computer think of you?" That's because this is my play-style: "Is that a cave? Wait, what's down this path? Can I go in this house? I can? Rad! Some other time though, because that's a butterfly! I can pluck salmon out of the river, harvest mushrooms from stumps and tan leather? That's amazing!"Watching me play Skyrim is like reading one of those Family Circus cartoon maps if little Billy paused periodically to fire an arrow into the back of somebody's head to steal their magical boots. The only consistent theme linking my actions together is that none of them, not a one, advance the game in any meaningful way.
"Yes, I will be doing this for hours." -- Me, I guess?
A Problem With AuthorityI'm not referring to just disobeying the orders of in-game authority figures (though to be clear, I absolutely do that all the time, and have, on occasion, opted to resist arrest rather than pay a bounty of $11 dollars). I'm talking about rebelling against the vague, nebulous authority of the game itself.
"God, I'm so sick of having all of this freedom." -- Me, I guess?Because I want to go save that wench, fight that bastard usurper and fell that dragon. I really do. It looks fun! Way more fun than introducing the Dewey Decimal system to Whiterun, at any rate. But you need to force me over there first, because I'm just not going to do it otherwise. I'm not faulting the game for giving me freedom or anything; I totally acknowledge that this is a personal failing within me. This terrible habit -- of scouting out every single other pathway before the main one -- may be a leftover impulse from older RPGs, where many areas became inaccessible after you advanced through them. So if you wanted to make sure you found all the secret spells and legendary weapons, you had to explore every other path before the right one, otherwise the story might drag you, kicking and screaming, away from the best toys. That's no longer the case with modern games. Most let you visit and revisit any area at any point, but it's too late for me: The behavior is learned, and the damage is done. I'll harvest every fucking cabbage in this field before I so much as glance at the dragon's nest, and you can't stop me. Even though I
Rampant OCD (That Is Totally Eclipsed by My Laziness)
"Fuck these books." -- Me, I guess?Oh, I picked up the first book. And, in fact, was so awed at their artful thoroughness that I read it cover to cover. "That was cool," I thought to myself, "and it really added to the story. I feel like I understand this world a little better." For the second book, I did the same: "Wow. Even their economy is detailed here. This is completion on a whole other level." The third book, I skimmed: "I don't really need to know about seed counts in a rival kingdom," I justified. By the 10th book, I had stopped reading altogether. I've always suspected that I was mildly OCD, and video games -- with their menus, customization and puzzles -- brought it all out into the open. "I spent an hour organizing my fictional inventory by the number of characters in the names of each item! I've got a disease!" I would cry.And that's bullshit, of course. OCD isn't tidying up your menus. OCD is thinking you have to twist every knob on the stove eight times because you cracked your knuckles out of order, otherwise your heart will explode. Me? I'm just a bit of a control freak. And
A Fickle, Entitled Nature
"That's fine. You worked hard, guys. I forgive you." -- Me, totally.That is, so long as that hiccup doesn't have the faintest negative impact on me as a player.If the glitch does inconvenience me slightly, though, every ounce of that goodwill instantly dies, screaming and fear-peeing on itself. I may not have liked the poet/warrior that talked like The Swedish Chef, but goddammit,
The Worst TimingI have yet to do a single thing in
You can buy Robert's book, Everything is Going to Kill Everybody: The Terrifyingly Real Ways the World Wants You Dead, or follow him on Twitter, Facebook and Google+. Or you could do none of those things, because you're currently playing Skyrim until your eyes bleed, stopping only to read more about Skyrim before returning to Skyrim.
For more of Brockway's video game escapades, check out When Video Games Get Stuck In Your Head and 5 Ways 'Arkham City' Proves I'm Under Qualified to be Batman.
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