The Nameless Pun
Unwanted
- Joined
- Aug 29, 2015
- Messages
- 224
Everything begins in a very unexpected way. One day you are playing Skyrim or Mass Effect, the next you feel that there's something off, there is a void, a sense of incompleteness and bewilderment, like being lost. So you discover a new world, with new rules. Torment and the Infinity, with all the other good things they've brought. And a voice, a sensation, that tells you: 'we need to go deeper'. It's basically Inception. So, you end up playing Darklands, 23 years after its release, after you've known only AAA titles that like so much to call themselves rpgs. And then I saw the Exile series from Jeff Vogel. I can't move. 2D graphics. The character is flat on its back crawling in order to move to its next objective. One can only wonder how it is possible to have a normal discussion with someone without either noticing the absurdity of the situation. I almost was at the point of removing my eyeballs and extend them on the palm of may hands to the winds, shouting: 'Liberate tutemet ex inferis' like the freaking guy from the movie Event Horizon, but no, nothing so choreographic happened. Instead, I remained there, nailed to the chair, like a steaming pile of shit freshly defecated from the scabby ass of a stray dog, watching the screen, speechless, for the total lack on my part of any kind of predictive acuity to let me understand that somewhere there would have been a game with a worse graphic than Darklands. Which is strange since I had already seen screenshots of the SSI games. The funny thing is that in a curious coincidence, apparently my mind must have removed the thing in an amazing act of mercy towards my frail psyche and of blind naivety for the complete, undeniable lack of self-awareness. And here I am, negating myself a potentially valid experience because I lack the necessary resistance to withstand such a mediocre graphic. Well, I admit it, for me graphics is important. I have let myself getting infected by the cult of the dark gods of decline and I've let the subtle temptations
insinuate my mind and root in the folds of my brain like fly larvas laid down in the bleeding wounds of an animal. I love isometric graphics, I feel an almost orgasmic sense of integrity and organic completeness, but too much is too much. Please, help me, I cannot sleep at night anymore, this contradiction is driving me crazy, it's devouring me from the inside, it's like the discovery of irrational numbers by the Pythagoreans, with the only difference that their sect exploded, while I'm still whole, but my mind is wounded, oh yes, more than wounded, shattered in a thousand splinters like the fragments of Khaine after being destroyed by Slaanesh. Slaanesh, the god of excess and spiritual corruption, such an excellent example. There will never be an end. Almighty gods of the ancient world, will there ever be a limit to the obstacles that my patience must endure? Endure, in enduring grow strong. Bullshit. I feel like a pornstar forced to swallow the sperm of thirty men after a gangbang scene, and with each sip I'm a step closer to vomiting everything I've been drinking. Quousque tandem abutere, Catilina, patientia nostra? Maybe for ever, there will never be an end, it's my torment, by now my willpower is stretched like a violin string, like my willing suspension of disbelief when I watch Star Wars movies and all I need is a pixel, just one more pixel in the wrong spot before everything collapses in a thunderous roar.
What is your situation? What is your unsurmountable limit in terms of graphics? Give me some help, unless you consider me worthy of being sent to a quick pilgrimage to the furnace of rpg sinners guilty of having been seduced by the dark side of graphics.
insinuate my mind and root in the folds of my brain like fly larvas laid down in the bleeding wounds of an animal. I love isometric graphics, I feel an almost orgasmic sense of integrity and organic completeness, but too much is too much. Please, help me, I cannot sleep at night anymore, this contradiction is driving me crazy, it's devouring me from the inside, it's like the discovery of irrational numbers by the Pythagoreans, with the only difference that their sect exploded, while I'm still whole, but my mind is wounded, oh yes, more than wounded, shattered in a thousand splinters like the fragments of Khaine after being destroyed by Slaanesh. Slaanesh, the god of excess and spiritual corruption, such an excellent example. There will never be an end. Almighty gods of the ancient world, will there ever be a limit to the obstacles that my patience must endure? Endure, in enduring grow strong. Bullshit. I feel like a pornstar forced to swallow the sperm of thirty men after a gangbang scene, and with each sip I'm a step closer to vomiting everything I've been drinking. Quousque tandem abutere, Catilina, patientia nostra? Maybe for ever, there will never be an end, it's my torment, by now my willpower is stretched like a violin string, like my willing suspension of disbelief when I watch Star Wars movies and all I need is a pixel, just one more pixel in the wrong spot before everything collapses in a thunderous roar.
What is your situation? What is your unsurmountable limit in terms of graphics? Give me some help, unless you consider me worthy of being sent to a quick pilgrimage to the furnace of rpg sinners guilty of having been seduced by the dark side of graphics.
