I Can't Grow Up

I never learned how to curse. I twitch when I try to do it in cold blood. Unfortunately, I live in an environment where I'd be labeled a prude if I kept with my usual assortment of exclamations (Oh my, Good Heavens, Oh dear, Good Lord, Oh man, Goodness gracious). So through many tense, violent video games, I've evolved my own set of curse words that can sometimes be mistaken for proper curses. Some of these are my own, some of these I've ripped intentionally or accidentally from elsewhere.

This one I thought was my own, but someone used 'shiz' as a replacement for 'shit' on a comment for a Jenna Marbles video. Subconsciously, I am picking up hip slang! I might not even need fake curse words soon!

This one's confusing, because "dude" is already a word. You just draw out the oooooo so it sounds more like the thing womenfolk can use to clean their lady bits. 

Fugg's dangerous, because it almost always gets mistaken for the Other Word. I use this one in video games, mostly, rather than in general public. I have to be in the moment for it, you know.

My other problem is my inability to understand alcohol. Now that I'm 21, I feel like I should be a master, or at least an apprentice. I recently figured out tequila's probably clear, Schnapps is not the same as grenadine, and beer is disgusting. But I'm still proud of being 21, so I'll order drinks at restaurants just to get them to card me! I sip shooters, gag on quarter-shots, taste high quality vodka and say 'bleh!', and basically am the most graceless college student of legal age in the world.

And my pairings are the worst. I'm operating under this theory that if I combine things I love, it will be awesome. This doesn't work in most cases (macaroni should go with milk. Period), but I did discover the best pairing in the entire world.

Instructions: Go to Taco Bell. Order two XL Baja Blasts, no ice. Take them home. Mix with vodka to pleasure. 

Between the vodka, caffeine, and sugar, you'll have the most delicious night ever! 

Unfortunately, since the Baja hides the vodka exceptionally well, it can lead to some surprise drunkenness. I discovered this when I decided to play Mount and Blade while drinking. 

I was pretty pumped, downed the last of my VodkaBaja so I could focus on the game, and charged forth.

Into a tree.

The next day I woke up with about five quests I don't remember accepting, and a fresh lesson on why I should never drink and drive. I drove my virtual horse into a tree.

On the bright side, my poor tolerance for alcohol, and the desensitizing from pseudo-curses changed my gameplay. Whenever I get into a smackdown with some alien/zombie/Luigi, I can let go. Liberated from societal conditioning, I sink into my freedom.

Why I Can No Longer Play Morrowind

After a good year of Morrowind, a relapse into Oblivion, the discovery and descent into Mount and Blade, and Dragon Age, I've come to terms with my condition. I am too greedy to play such free-flowing RPGs. Here is a brief illustrated narrative of my path to ruin.

First, the character questions.

Talk about an existential crisis. Do I want to virtually assume a strange and unfamiliar gender? Stick to my roots?

Then you get to designing the character. This is somewhat time-consuming for me…

Once I've spent a good many hours matching the facial proportions of Queen Latifah or Patrick Stewart, I still have many important decisions to make. Rogue or Paladin? Skills? Weapon points? Do I want to be ironic—a small framed woman with a greatsword? A wood elf Arnold Schwarzenegger? This typically takes another hour, and often results in me going back to alter the face to accommodate the class.

Finally I’ve been released into the game world. I’ve selected a rogue, or a mage with all my skills in secrecy and lockpicking. I bypass the first friendly guard who tries to approach me with a plot relevant quest, break into the first hut I see, and loot their meager life possessions. Then I trade the plates and sack of potatoes for a few coins and keep at it until I can buy myself a sexy suit of armor or weapon, both of which will make it easier for me to loot.

I spend hours prowling from house to house searching for chests of jewelry left untended. Slowly but surely I build up my small stash of coin using varying levels of thievery from Robin-hood style to shanking them in the street for a brass bracelet.

After days of stealing from the NPCs, I find I have no more strength to hold my gains. I put more points in strength the next time I level up, but I can’t keep up with the burden of my riches. So I kill someone that lives in a likely looking house and start dumping my ill-gotten gains there.

This pleases me to no end for roughly 80 hours. Then I start to feel guilty every time I pass the friendly guard, the reminder that though I’m at the top level and have raided every tomb and slayed many a creature, I still haven’t taken care of the rats back from the beginning of the game.

The guilt starts to eat at me. “Well, maybe I should just talk to him,” I think. But I procrastinate. There’s a new area to explore! I can go all the way north by this ship! Finally I’m squirming with guilt and I approach him for the quest, to find out I’d killed the rats and the owner of the building and stolen her pitiful payment in the same swoop as I stole her dress.

Only then I start asking myself important questions. Like what exactly I achieved by owning all magical glass armor and the highest level enchanted battle ax. I hadn’t spoken to my grandparents in days, written a paper, or made my bed. I didn’t follow the plot of the game, so I wasn’t even any nearer to accomplishing an imaginary objective.

What I learned from this experience? 

Not much.