Wednesday, November 17, 2010

After

There is a feeling you get during the extended seconds between losing control of your car and careening into an immovable (or sometimes four legged and running) object where you know something bad is going to happen but there is nothing you can do to stop it. You become an observer, curious yet apprehensive of what grievous injury may be in store. This is the exact feeling I had after putting together my pro guitar and starting up the tutorial. It was pleasantly narrated by an smooth sounding woman, but there was just a little tinge of mockery in her voice, as if to say 'you think you can do this, mister five button toy guitar? Here, I want you to hit this fret on this string at this time, nothing more, and I know you are going to fail.'

And fail I did, for almost an hour. The lessons provided are actually very good, breaking down songs into individual riffs that must be memorized. Sight reading is not longer an option; I am going to need to know what is coming and be prepared for it, lest I flail about the fretboard trying to find the correct string. This isn't even the same game anymore, and if last night was any indication of how things are going to go, it isn't going to be fun for a long, long time. This is work; starting over from scratch, hand mangling, wrist straining, why the fuck did I spend $150 on this work. At this point I want to succeed. I want to learn this because I think in the end it will  be more satisfying and I might actually learn something. We will see how long that lasts.

After guitar practice I went back to finish Dead Rising 2, only to find another brick wall waiting for me: bull shit bosses. The first game was guilty of this, too, so I should have expected no less, though for a game that is purportedly about zombies none of the actual undead have provided much of a challenge. They all pale in comparison to the old guy I am fighting now whose dive roll bends space and time, causing my attacks to pass through him as if he weren't physically there.

Or whoever programmed the collision detection hated gamers, one of the two.

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