Permadeath

(Or Sun Tzu’s Fart of War)

It always bothers me when I’m playing a video game, how the NPC’s are so blasé about their dead friends. They wander around like nothing happened, meanwhile they are standing in a pool of blood that was their best friend two minutes ago. If you’re supposedly this bad-ass bandit, then why aren’t you stealing his boots. He’s not going to need them anymore. Or how many zombies do you have to kill before they figure out they could eat each other’s brains. (I guess they only like fresh meat.)

Just once I’d like to shoot an arrow into some guy’s eye socket and have his friend look over and cry out, “Oh no, Steve! They killed Steve. He had so much to live for. He had a wife and two kids and you just shot him like it was nothing. You bastard! Why, Steve. Whyyyyy!”

You know – because I like realism in my games. Is it too much to ask for a weeping widow, some orphaned kids forced to beg for scraps of food, or maybe even a funeral every now and then. You always see these spooky cemeteries full of skeletons and ghouls but no one ever buries a body. As far as I can tell, they just kind of rot where they are.

There’s another thing that bothers me. You always have to walk everywhere. Have you ever walked for twenty miles straight. Trust me, you’d hardly be in any shape to start sticking swords into trolls. You’d be complaining about the blisters on your feet, and not spelunking for Orc gold. There are no gel insoles for that plate mail armour, buddy.

And there’s almost never a bathroom. Except in The Sims, where there is way too much bathroom if you ask me. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t take me an hour to walk to the bathroom and take a leak. What exactly are you doing behind that censor blur? Wait. I don’t want to know. (I feel so dirty.)

So until I get my own holodeck, I guess I’ll have to make do with what the gaming industry gives me. I mean, it’s still hours of fun, even when it’s not everything you could have imagined. Just remember that zombies are people too. People that want to eat your brains. You know what? Forget what I said and keep shooting. You’re going to need the practice for when the apocalypse comes.

Also, Steve will be missed. We hardly knew you, bro.

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Crazed recluse and sociophobe who has taken up writing after failing at everything else. Send pizza.

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Posted in Blog, I'm Just Saying, Just nerding out
One comment on “Permadeath
  1. Alas, poor Steve, we knew him well…

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