(no subject)
What a physically and mentally straining weekend of gaming. I think I've gamed myself out for at least another week.
Finally got my hands on BioShock last Friday, and have invested about 20-25 hours (couldn't tell you how much, I'm still amazed that it's Sunday) to complete it, with the satisfaction of 610 Gamer Points - not a bad little slew of Achievements.
I spent most of Friday evening on it, pretty much all of Saturday, and a few hours this morning.
I saw pretty much all of Saturday as the Greens had one of their regular drinking parties that night. Under pressure from my father, I went, knowing I'd basically only have Myles and his missus for company, and they'd probably nick off to have a shag or something. That's what I suspect happened, at least, in the last half hour. I just wandered home, with a gut full of four beers (three Coronas and a Cintra), three Red Bear vodkas, a strange slushie tequila contraption, and the opening mouthfuls of two rather painful beers - compliments of my stalker. Yes, she still hasn't given up.
Russia, you're a crazy country with a messed up economic theory, but you make a good vodka.
So I think this morning was the closest I've come to a hangover. It was a painful wake up call, knew immediately that I should have spaced out my drinks (consumed in the course of three hours), taken much more water in, and popped some Panadol before hitting the sack. The absence of those three guiding principles resulted in a morning that could only be described as, to dust off a Yahtzee Croshaw classic, fan-dabby-tabulous. I came close to the sweet essence of hurling, twice, yet I perservered and spent the morning enjoying some rather unamusing scrambled eggs and slugging through the rest of BioShock.
As it turns out, beer, unlike milk, is not pleasant to have coming out of your nose. It leaves you feeling quite crumpet most of the evening. Destroys your taste receptors, too.
Out of the whole eleven-strong box of circular tasties, I managed to get the one with some kind of freaking apricot bollocks in it. It's in the garden now. Yes, I walked to the front door, stepped out into the brilliant embrace of the world and threw a donut at it.
Wasn't a real donut, had no hole in it.
One of those crazy bun-like devices.
Oh, yes, well, in my somewhat drunken state, I seem to have dropped a comment on someone's MySpace. This lass is a friend of Dan; fairly attractive and one of those ladies that wouldn't look twice my direction. If I remember rightly, and looking at the comment I don't think I do recall in the slightest, the comment followed the lines of:
- Making a compliment on her appearance.
- Asking her out.
This is strange, as... well... I don't believe I've ever spoken to this lass. And I seem to have asked her on a date. Delete the comment, you say? Well, I'm funny like that. Let's just see what comes of this. Could result in legal action, if we were to go by precedent.
The most interesting aspect of BioShock? The philosophy. It's a city built for the brilliant, where the artist could create what they wanted, where the scientist would not be confined by petty morality. Yet, as Fontaine put it so astutely, the problem was, someone has to clean the Johns. A very anti-Marxist idea where the upper class are encouraged to further the distance between themselves and the plebians. Not everyone can be kings and queens, as power is only measured by how many people would do your bidding.
Really got me thinking, more than any game has to date. I must invest a second turn at this, as I didn't get out of it almost as much as I would like. A really deep game.
And oddly enough, I found myself using the shotgun scarcely. That's strange, it's usually a case of picking the shotgun up and using it until the game is done; interchanging only when ammo becomes difficult to obtain. Yay for variety? Barely touched the crossbow, or the flamethrower. Only really had a few weapons, mostly using the Plasmids.
This was designed to burn an hour. I completely stuffed up my time, and thought I was meant to get to work at 3. Heh. Stupid mistake. I'll go now, though, as the time draws closer. Hopefully, the donut box doesn't shaft me again...
Cheerio.
Finally got my hands on BioShock last Friday, and have invested about 20-25 hours (couldn't tell you how much, I'm still amazed that it's Sunday) to complete it, with the satisfaction of 610 Gamer Points - not a bad little slew of Achievements.
I spent most of Friday evening on it, pretty much all of Saturday, and a few hours this morning.
I saw pretty much all of Saturday as the Greens had one of their regular drinking parties that night. Under pressure from my father, I went, knowing I'd basically only have Myles and his missus for company, and they'd probably nick off to have a shag or something. That's what I suspect happened, at least, in the last half hour. I just wandered home, with a gut full of four beers (three Coronas and a Cintra), three Red Bear vodkas, a strange slushie tequila contraption, and the opening mouthfuls of two rather painful beers - compliments of my stalker. Yes, she still hasn't given up.
Russia, you're a crazy country with a messed up economic theory, but you make a good vodka.
So I think this morning was the closest I've come to a hangover. It was a painful wake up call, knew immediately that I should have spaced out my drinks (consumed in the course of three hours), taken much more water in, and popped some Panadol before hitting the sack. The absence of those three guiding principles resulted in a morning that could only be described as, to dust off a Yahtzee Croshaw classic, fan-dabby-tabulous. I came close to the sweet essence of hurling, twice, yet I perservered and spent the morning enjoying some rather unamusing scrambled eggs and slugging through the rest of BioShock.
As it turns out, beer, unlike milk, is not pleasant to have coming out of your nose. It leaves you feeling quite crumpet most of the evening. Destroys your taste receptors, too.
Out of the whole eleven-strong box of circular tasties, I managed to get the one with some kind of freaking apricot bollocks in it. It's in the garden now. Yes, I walked to the front door, stepped out into the brilliant embrace of the world and threw a donut at it.
Wasn't a real donut, had no hole in it.
One of those crazy bun-like devices.
Oh, yes, well, in my somewhat drunken state, I seem to have dropped a comment on someone's MySpace. This lass is a friend of Dan; fairly attractive and one of those ladies that wouldn't look twice my direction. If I remember rightly, and looking at the comment I don't think I do recall in the slightest, the comment followed the lines of:
- Making a compliment on her appearance.
- Asking her out.
This is strange, as... well... I don't believe I've ever spoken to this lass. And I seem to have asked her on a date. Delete the comment, you say? Well, I'm funny like that. Let's just see what comes of this. Could result in legal action, if we were to go by precedent.
The most interesting aspect of BioShock? The philosophy. It's a city built for the brilliant, where the artist could create what they wanted, where the scientist would not be confined by petty morality. Yet, as Fontaine put it so astutely, the problem was, someone has to clean the Johns. A very anti-Marxist idea where the upper class are encouraged to further the distance between themselves and the plebians. Not everyone can be kings and queens, as power is only measured by how many people would do your bidding.
Really got me thinking, more than any game has to date. I must invest a second turn at this, as I didn't get out of it almost as much as I would like. A really deep game.
And oddly enough, I found myself using the shotgun scarcely. That's strange, it's usually a case of picking the shotgun up and using it until the game is done; interchanging only when ammo becomes difficult to obtain. Yay for variety? Barely touched the crossbow, or the flamethrower. Only really had a few weapons, mostly using the Plasmids.
This was designed to burn an hour. I completely stuffed up my time, and thought I was meant to get to work at 3. Heh. Stupid mistake. I'll go now, though, as the time draws closer. Hopefully, the donut box doesn't shaft me again...
Cheerio.