Eccentric Flower:199812/still lost in gameland
From Eccentric Flower
«December 1998 «Eccentric Flower
 |
nine twelve one still lost in gameland Not much to say today. I'm still trying to sort out my own brain about this Joe Haldeman story - it's leading me into a deep well of darkness and I don't want to go there right now. Tonight I am going to write a mouth organ about having too much information. That, plus the amount of work I am actually getting accomplished today, makes up for any guilt I might experience about goofing off every moment I'm at home. Not to worry. Soon I'll be finished with Half-Life and I'll have a personality again. Thief is a much harder game and I have to take it in slower stages, so it will be less all-consuming than Half-Life is. Half-Life is so good, and draws me into the story so well, that all I want to do is keep playing - which is both a testimonial and a real problem. This is not a game for people who find the movie Alien too frightening to watch. You're walking around abandoned corridors of an underground research facility, by the light of emergency floods, and sometimes things will fall out of the ceilings on top of you ... brrr. There was a sequence last night with a creature which had no eyes, but extremely good hearing - lashing out blindly with a sharp tentacle at anything which made a sound. I had to creep all the way around it very slowly to get to the door on the other side of the room - I had no weapons which could hurt it - waiting for one misstep to kill me at any moment. Every time I moved a little too far, I had to stop and crouch completely still as tentacles pounded the steel deck floor all around me, searching for me by Braille. Clang CLANG CLANG pound. I had to stop the game for a while after I finished that part. My hands were sweating so badly I was having problems pressing the keys. By the by, if you haven't heard from me in a day or so, it's not because I'm glued to the game. i can't seem to send email at the moment. So if you've written me, relax, you'll get a reply eventually. © columbine |
