Simply Disorganized

On Skyrim’s Cities: Whiterun

I was bored while playing Skyrim, so I decided to start a new game, go visit the capitals of the nine holds of Skyrim (for the uninitiated, those would be Whiterun, Dawnstar, Winterhold, Windhelm, Riften, Falkreath, Markarth, Morthal, and Solitude) and just write down what I thought when I walked into each one. Keep in mind that this is after beating the game repeatedly, however, so whatever happens the first time the player walks into the city will more than likely not even come up.

I love how everyone calls Whiterun the best city in Skyrim, and yet it’s the first one you go to. You just kind of get this “well…I guess it’s all downhill from here” the first time you hear that. The thing that’s really sad is that it’s totally true—Whiterun has the least problems of all of the cities. In fact, except for the dragons and vampires if you have Dawnguard, barely anything happens in Whiterun, despite the fact that it also has tons of quests that start in it. This is one of the cities that has two Daedric quests and really doesn’t need them. All of the Companion quests start here except one, Dawnguard starts here, it’s a central location for both the main questline and both military questlines, and it has both the Mephala and Sanguine quests (…and Missing in Action and that stupid Gildergleam quest). Furthermore, this is the only city (I believe) where you learn a shout, it’s one of the only locations in the game where you learn all three words for a shout all at once, it’s your only ticket to the best stealth-oriented light armor in the game, and it’s the only place in the game that you can become a werewolf. It’s just really lopsided.

I still like Whiterun, though…although admittedly, after Dawnguard starts, I try to go to here as little as possible. For some reason, vampires seem to exclusively attack Whiterun…a fact which makes it exceptionally difficult for any shopkeepers who happen to be taking a walk after a hard day’s work to continue with their mundane simulated existence. There have been way too many times where I’ve had to reload something because Belethor died…again. On a somewhat related note, I’m sorry, but Sigurd is evil, and I have no qualms about killing him. Did you know he works for Belethor? Did you know that?! Admittedly, the only real reason I hate him is because of this one time that I was chopping wood and he just sort of walked around me in circles waiting for me to finish so that he could use the wood chopping block. Jerk.

And that was all I wrote about Whiterun Next time…I don’t know, whichever city I go to next. Good night, everybody.

The “Private Answer” button on Tumblr isn’t working.

I’m Not Meant for Me

Do you know what irony is? Let me give you a few examples: It’s ironic when a fire department station goes up in flames; it’s ironic that hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia is “the fear of large words”; it’s ironic when the person you once went out with is now one of the few that you can’t even talk to now. Irony is, after all, an outcome of events different than (especially the opposite of) what might have been expected at the start of said events. But enough about English…if anyone is reading this, it was the title that undoubtedly got your attention, so I guess I’ll elaborate.

Way back in October, for the first and only time, I had a girlfriend (Problem #1). I think that almost everyone who could read this already knows who it was, but if you forgot (and I wouldn’t be surprised, it probably didn’t seem that important), it was Whitney. In truth, I hesitate to even call what we had a relationship; it was two weeks. Nonetheless, it felt nice to be with someone (since I’d liked other girls, but never had my feelings reciprocated until then), and I was happy…and then I broke up with her (Problem #2).

I’m not going to feed you guys the original bullcrap I told her about our arguing being unhealthy, nor will I say it was because I liked someone else. No, it was far more stupid (stupider?): I broke up with her because, in my own words, “I couldn’t understand how someone so amazingly perfect could like someone like me, and I was afraid that I was going to screw everything up.” So I broke up with her…because I was scared of doing something that would cause us to break up (Problem #3). Welcome to the personal hell that is my mind, reader. It’s dark in here.

It could’ve ended there…but, for some reason, I wouldn’t let it (Problem #4). Over the next several months, I would periodically ask her out again. I still liked her; I still like her (Problem #5). Every time, she would say no, which was the right thing to do (although she didn’t have to be so…blunt…about it, in my opinion). This stopped over time…which is when I noticed what was actually bothering me.

Naturally, before we went out, Whitney and I were friends. We talked a lot, in person, over Facebook, and over text; we argued a lot too, but that was normal. We didn’t argue anymore…but maybe that was just because we didn’t talk anymore, either. We had friends in common—in fact, it was through one of those friends, Alix, that we even started talking. Now, though, Whitney talked with Alix, Mason, and Mat freely, and…well, I was there. When my mom moved all of the desks in the French room into rows, it only got worse; Alix and Mason both faced Whitney, and (just thanks to where I was sitting), I was basically behind Mason…out of sight, out of mind (Problem #6). It didn’t matter if I left or just didn’t show up; they continued with their conversations, conversations I could only hear parts of from my seat behind Mason—I remember describing it as my being “a fifth wheel in a group of four.”

I almost forgot to mention the other thing: texting. Anyone who knows me knows that I have a great deal of trouble actually talking to people, but I “write novels,” as a friend put it, when I’m using a keyboard (Problem #7). As such, texting has been my go-to method of communication for almost six years. During most of Freshman- and the first third of Sophomore Year, Whitney and I texted each other. Shortly after breaking up, Whitney told me that she’d decided that she didn’t like texting (in general; I cannot stress that enough), because it eliminated the human element of conversations (or something like that). I was fine with that; it was something I could see her doing…It’s too bad it wasn’t true. She gave her phone number to her other friends, had them text her, occasionally texted them…she was fine with texting; she just didn’t want to text me. I just loved discovering that.

Then yearbooks came out. Well…there’s just so much crap that happens right here. Firstly, the previous year Whitney wrote a whole page worth of stuff in various colors about everything from the entire year ever. What I got this year, written in thin black, was “I can’t decide whether to write ‘It was interesting’ or ‘Have a good summer.’ Hmm…I know. Have it a was good interesting summer. -Whitney”. My mom didn’t like it; she said that, after last year’s, this one looked impersonal; it made it seem like we weren’t even friends…she was right, especially when I saw what Whitney wrote in everyone else’s yearbooks. Predictably, brightly-colored, usually page-long, personalized messages, that more often than not resembled letters (starting with “Dearest, darlingest ____”). I should’ve seen this coming…it shouldn’t have hurt (Problem #8). But it did. God, it did.

When it came time for me to sign her yearbook, it took me a whole class period. In it, I wrote everything I’d wanted to tell her…I’d tried to tell her before (I thought…this is the fun part; Problem #9), but she’d never listened. I have never done something so stupid in my life. The yearbook was no place for that…I realized that after Whitney shouted it to me last Thursday, so angry that she was on the verge of crying (Problem #10). The weekend came…I hoped that time would smooth things over. But, of course, life isn’t that kind to those who don’t deserve it.

Monday came. We didn’t talk to each other; I didn’t eat lunch; I worried six people including my Japanese teacher. Tuesday came on the heels of Monday. We still didn’t speak, I still didn’t eat, the Japanese teacher told me parents that I was depressed, my parents told me that I shouldn’t put a bullet in my head (since, for those of you who don’t know, I already attempted suicide once; Problem #11), and then Annie convinced me that there was a faint hope of mending this (Problem #12). She told me that Whitney wanted to talk to me as much as I wanted to talk to her. Furthermore, it upset her to see us both so upset…and she was worried that if summer came and we didn’t fix things, this time they’d stay broken. She said that all I had to do was be assertive enough to start the conversation. It’s funny that she used that word; you can’t spell “assertive” without “ass.”

Today, I talked to Whitney. Last Thursday she said that she was tired of putting up with my bullsh*t; now that she’d calmed down, she said that she didn’t know 1) what I wanted her to do (???), and 2) how things could possibly progress from here. I told her (after the silence I’ve been offering so much of recently I might as well patent it) that we’d never fix this without talking, but that we couldn’t talk without me screwing everything up (sort of a continuation of my “I’m sorry that you had the misfortune of meeting me” comment from Thursday). She agreed, in the form of cutting me off with a “I can’t talk to you!” that a few people might’ve heard…not that it matters, I guess. That was it. At the start of the year, when that bell rang, we walked out of that room in an unofficial relationship; when it rang today, the only thing I knew about Whitney was her name, and that she “didn’t hate me,” but at the same time “couldn’t talk to me.”

Before we continue, let’s look at the 12 problems I came up with over the course of this story:

1. I found myself in a relationship. I don’t belong in those.

2. I broke up with the girl with little warning and in what was apparently a difficult-to-interpret way.

3. I broke up for practically no reason. If my logic were a snake, it turn right around and eat its tail.

4. Even after I broke up with her, I couldn’t let it go.

5. I still like her. Again, can’t let go.

6. I’m easily forgotten about.

7. I can’t talk to people.

8. I have no foresight.

9. My idea of “enough” is clearly not enough.

10. As usual, hindsight is 20/20. Also, when I let my emotions do the talking (like right now), I don’t think things through.

11. I appear to have depression issues (although I won’t be committing suicide…if you keep reading, you’ll see that I have a purpose).

12. Despite the above point and the fact that I’m very pessimistic, I let the worst rays of optimism get through to me.

Right, okay, back to the story. Don’t worry, it’s almost over.

During all of this (and completely unbeknownst to me), Alix had to change where she ate lunch, because her mom didn’t like how my mom kept telling her to be quiet when there was a makeup quiz going on in the French room. Mason and Whitney followed her. The three of them eat lunch somewhere else now…I don’t know where, nor do I have any right to find out. I eat in the French room, alone, like I did at the start of Freshman year…the way it should be. The way it always should’ve been.

What I learned about myself during all of this (as well as what the title means), is basically that I exist solely to help other people. This (which has been in development for two years now), was basically a shot at my own long-term happiness…and, through only my own actions, I screwed it up to such an extent that it’s affected several of my other friends, exposed almost a year’s worth of bitterness that should’ve been private, ruined a relationship (even as friends), and possibly forever twisted a girl’s memories of her sophomore year into her struggle to remain emotionally normal while I constantly tried (even unintentionally) to tear away at her. No one else I know can cause this by just listening to what they want…clearly, I was never meant to “want” in the first place. I’ll talk to other people when they get upset…I’ll try and help them get back on their feet…that’s what I’m supposed to do. I know that now, and I apologize the best that I can to the girl who got hurt because I thought that I could be like all of you.

One last emotion-based thing: Whitney told Mason yesterday that “when you hit rock bottom, the only place to go is up.” That’s not true; you can descend beneath the rocks, straight down into the fires of hell, and, as you burn, look up through the hole at the other, better people going on with their lives. Or perhaps that privilege is only open to me.

Top 5 Reasons Why Hyrule Should and Shouldn’t Be a Real Place

At one time or another, almost every nerd has imagined living in Hyrule. It’s hardly a surprise, especially considering that Zelda is quite possibly the most recognizable series in history (and, as such, a lot of people have heard of and thus will fantasize about various aspects of it—no, I’m not gong into any more detail there). But do you really want to live in Hyrule? I mean, yeah, there are good things…but there’s some pretty bad stuff too.

Pro 5: All-in-all, there isn’t actually that much war going on. I have never met a Hyrulian who vehemently disliked another Hyrulian (I met some Terminians who had some issues, but they’re a whole other story). Everyone seems to get along pretty well here; yeah, a few people fight, and you have your basic greed issues that everyone has, but there isn’t really any major conflict going on…for the most part.

Con 5: When there is a major conflict, it tends to be pretty frigging major. Let’s look at some history. Between evil just kind of ruling (a fact that made everyone under the age of 70 mysteriously vanish, with the exception of Link and Zelda themselves) in the original, a very irritated Ganon doing…something to Zelda (is she sleeping or dead?), essentially leaving an entire nation without a head in Zelda II, that wizard whose name cannot be spelled without reference killing little girls in A Link to the Past (yes, the whole opening a portal to a world twisted by darkness into a hellish nightmare mirror of Hyrule is secondary here), the manipulation of an uncultured boy to unlock a door to ultimate power and the subsequent use of said power to forcefully take over the kingdom, a full-scale invasion from people created in Zelda’s equivalent of the Phantom Zone (for anyone not understanding the Superman/Zelda analogy, I mean the Twilight Realm), and, of course, that thing that happens in Wind Waker (there’s a reason why I left that out)…chances are when Hyrule does actually get itself into trouble, you’re going to die. You all are.

Pro 4: No pollution. There’s not really any technology around…well…not much. So there’s virtually no pollution anywhere. Clean air, clean water…pretty cool.

Con 4 (probably the biggest turn-off for nerds and Americans): There’s also no technology. I think I just heard the sound of a thousand wannabe-Hyrulians shooting themselves with their hookshots.

Pro 3: There’s always something happening. The forced lighter side of the whole major conflict thing from earlier. Hey, at least you aren’t bored.

Con 3: Despite the fact that there’s always something happening, the guards don’t get any better. You want to do something funny? Go to that part in Ocarina of Time where you have to sneak into the castle, wait until a guard can’t actually see you, and then role around. Now give me an explanation as to why the guards can’t hear you that would work in the real world (headphones don’t count; see Con 4). Now we know why every time there’s a major conflict only Link can be counted on to save the world—the guards aren’t all there.

Pro 2: Malon. Shut up, we all know she’s a valid reason.

Con 2: Tingle. Can you imagine if this person, this…thing…actually existed? See, if he’s a valid reason (and you KNOW he is), then that’s why Malon is a valid reason for living there. So stop laughing.

Pro 1: It’s only heavy if you’re holding or wearing it. The greatest mystery of Hyrule is also the greatest reason to live there. Can you imagine how much crap we’d be able to carry if it didn’t weigh anything unless we were using it? Even better, we don’t need a bag—Hyrulians apparently carry around their own little pocket dimensions at all times. There is literally nothing that you couldn’t carry on you for however long you wanted.

Con 1: We all die. Don’t take this for the depressing/matter-of-fact thing it sounds like—I’m being serious. In the end, Hyrule sinks beneath the waves of the Great Sea. Yeah, a few people survive, but who’s to guarantee that you or I are one of them? Frankly, since the great sinking of Hyrule happened while Link was stopping a different end of the world in Termina, we’d probably only live for a few years. After all, virtually everyone’s optimal Hyrule is Ocarina of Time’s Hyrule, and Majora’s Mask only takes place a couple of months later. So, we’d all drown. Hooray.

So, those were my reasons for why we should and shouldn’t try and make Hyrule an actual plane of existence. That was fun. I’m going to bed. Don’t bother correcting any typos—I was tired, I’ll probably see them tomorrow when I reread this.

The Casual Revolution and How to Stop It

Speaking as someone who played through the first one, I don’t understand why Treyarch is making Black Ops 2. Everyone is still playing the multiplayer from the first one, and the story was bad enough when it was contained in the first game. Frankly, one of the story’s only redeeming qualities was the fact that it was concise; it began and ended in the same game. There is no room for another Black Ops story. Well, correction—there’s no room for a Black Ops story as good as the first (and keep in mind that I hate the first Black Ops’ story).
So if it’s not because of the new multiplayer, and not because of the story, then it must be to make more money. Normally, I’d say that such a transparent scheme wouldn’t work, but you CoD-loving meatheads will eat it up, won’t you?
I think it’s time for a change in the definition of “casual gaming.” No longer is casual gaming playing Mario Party or other fluffy E-rated games. No, casual gaming is playing a generic first-person shooter, like Call of Duty or Battlefield. Because that’s what most gamers do. If you’re all-time favorite game is from one of these two franchises (particularly if it’s one of the newer entries—the originals I’m okay with), then you are henceforth known as a casual gamer. And I have lost a great deal of respect for you, since you are the reason for the wave of games with a six-hour “story” and then an utterly nutterly butterly amount of multiplayer content.
It’s not too late, though—you can ascend from the pathetic status which I have placed you at. Just don’t buy Black Ops 2. Stop the madness. Tell those fps-spawners that no, you will not be sheep; you will not buy what is essentially a $60 update for an existing game. RESIST.

This post brought to you by: The gamers that desperately try to explain to other people that the idiots who rob people at gunpoint for copies of the newest Modern Warfare are not affiliated with the actual gamer population. No, seriously, they aren’t with us. They are their own subhuman race.

Thank you, Tumblr, for not saving the draft that I asked you to save.

Cars Land Opened at California Adventure. So, There’s That.

Well, alright. It’s not quite open, but it’s almost done, since they have the page up on the Disneyland site. Looks like they essentially wanted to bring a version of Test Track from Epcot Center to California but couldn’t think of a way to fit it into Tomorrowland since 1) it technically takes place in present day, and 2) it’d probably be right next to the other car ride, Autopia. So they built an entire themed land around it using the time they could’ve spent, oh, I don’t know…fixing the bloody entrance.

Seriously, they’ve covered that thing up for almost a year and haven’t made any progress. When I go again later this year, I’d like to not have to walk through the little maze they put up. If that means that they don’t add another bumper-cars ride to the park until next October, too bad for them. The people will just have to be content with Tuck and Roll’s version in “a bug’s land”.

Right, that’s all I got. I really just didn’t want to make another note on Facebook.

Today’s post brought to you by: Valve: Here at Valve, we’d just like Blizzard to know that your definition of “soon” was our definition of “soon” waaaaaay earlier. Exhibit A—Half-Life 2: Episode 3. No further explanation needed.

Petty Complaints Are Still Complaints

So I went to the new Disney Store (I like Disney, shut up) at the Galleria, and I was pleasantly surprised at the walls—for anyone who has yet to go there, the walls are…technologically advanced. Anyway, I was really impressed with what they’d done with the place…and then I looked up. I’ll be blunt: I can’t stand the ceiling. Seriously. They didn’t do a thing with it. It’s all pipes and wiring, and it completely ruins the marvelous effect of the walls. Let me give you the worst analogy ever: let’s say you stepped into a room made of leather. This room is very nice; it’s very soft and warm, and someone took the time to emboss designs into the walls. You’re feeling all relaxed and happy, and then you look up and see all of the cow’s innards. You see what I mean? It totally ruins the effect. Then the room designer decides to hang signs from the ceiling, still trying to make the whole thing look natural. Guys, intestines are still intestines, no matter how much free candy you stick to them.

Today’s post was brought to you by: Q-Tips: So soft that you can stick it up a baby’s nose and the little twerp won’t even notice. At least that’s what the box says…