A game-by-game diary of my attempt to play every Nintendo game. From 8-Eyes to Zombie Nation and everything in between. Even that strange Christian game where you convert people by hitting them with fruit. Just wait. You'll see.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Artelius
I'm going to ask that you forgive me, dear readers, if the updates don't come quite as regularly for the next few months, as I'm getting married to the most wonderful woman in the world in April and it's amazing how much stuff there is that I'm sitting and watching my better half organize. Tiring, I tell you.I'm not entirely sure what to make of Artelius. It wants to be a RPG, but it seems to have gotten lost somewhere past "Hey, dude, lets give the player completely useless stats that have no effect on the game whatsoever!"Then you spend awhile running around an talking to giant computers that have replaced all humanity in the future. Just remember, when the machines take over the world people like me who have computer skills will be the ones kept alive to serve the machines while the rest of you are placed in slave camps and turned into soylent green. You're going to be my food pill while the machine talks like this:I can guaran-god-damn-tee you that the computer just said that in its best William Shatner voice. Then the game does some more stuff that makes less sense than Katie Holmes humping Tom Cruise. After awhile you get to shoot space jellyfish.No, I don't get it either, so don't ask.
Location: Terminus (Where All Rail Service Ends, Brother), Georgia, United States
I'm 27, a self-made oil, rail and steel tycoon whose combined income makes Bill Gates cry like a little bitch. I look like Johnny Depp, Christian Slater, or Brad Pitt, depending on which chatroom I'm in. I have a 19" prehensile penis that I use to hold my coffee while I type. I know where Jimmy Hoffa lives, and I understand the language of cats. I help old ladies cross the street and translate ethnic slurs for cuban refugees in my spare time. I sleep only one hour a night. I make ice cubes with the power of my mind. I can touch MC Hammer. I know every rivet in the Russian T-34 tank. I've advised Presidents, slept with movie stars, and can organize my sock drawer in less than 23 seconds.
And I still have time to do this blog.
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