I’m sleepy. I’m sleepy because, against my better judgment (and, several agreements I’ve made with various powerful, more responsible people in my life), I’ve been staying up ’till midnight this week, playing this stupid game (on the 360, not the flash-based original masterpiece).
By “stupid”, I mean that N+ (or, N-game, if you prefer) is simply fantastic. In it, I am a NINJA, and I do things quite impossible for normal people. For money. Also, I die a lot.
(For those of you who are older than dirt, N+ is the second coming of Lode Runner. The gameplay is much more jumpy/platformy than climby/diggy, but the core gameplay experience is still remarkably familiar. You’re even collecting freaking gold boxes.)
I think it says something profound about this game that the second achievement I unlocked for it (“Practice Makes Perfect”) is awarded for dying.
The second. Achievement.
Now, my daughter (daughter the younger) is, flat out, a disciple of the original flash game. She routinely will happily take time out of her day to remind me that she is a ninja (or, as she says it, “a NEEN-ja!!). Just last night, in fact, our entertainment room was briefly transformed into a Thunderdome of the mind, as she (while I was playing, mind you, and dying over and over) asserted that she was a ninja master.
She then proceeded to critique my “ninja style”, in some detail.
I protested this ludicrous stance, and it was on.
This “debate” led to two things:
1) Many more deaths for me. Alas, debating and being shot at by missiles while leaping around a grey void don’t mix well.
2) Some remarkable improvements in my gameplay (I can only assume that playing while ignoring her distracting “advice” elevated my mind to a higher plane of ninja-ness).
Ninja master. Feh. She quit the goddamn game. See, her save game cookie for the flash game got deleted a while back, and she gave up in disgust. She describes herself as unwilling to go back and do it all over again. When I call her a coward (or, words to that effect), she retorts with confusing statements about how “I’m not obsessed with games, like some people I know.” I can only assume she means her friends, but how that applies to my argument escapes me. Kids.
While we’re on that topic, here’s the problem with her argument!
One cannot both be a ninja master and have quit the game at the same time! Impossible!
At least, that’s my position. I shall soon overtake her ninja accomplishments, and then I will be the master. Wait, is this mike on?
Never mind that. Listen, okay, so I made my own goddamn MySim last night. He’s… he’s awesome. As predicted, I got a glimpse into exactly how far I’m willing to go with this “building stuff” thing. Turns out Kaiser was right: there is an object limit to the things you build. It’s just very high.
My house (more of a compound than an abode) now sports four distinct buildings. They are joined together by a second level (of unholy evil). Each building has its own door. Except for that one, in the back. We don’t go in there any more. Not since the incident. Gargoyled… things… perch on every pillastered corner… the lawn is scattered with fountains (of EVIL)…
My wife sat down next to me briefly, to observe. After a moment, she said (with a touch of awe in her voice): “Uh. Isn’t that… overkill?” I could tell she was impressed.
“It’s intimidating,” I replied.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, which I took to mean “You are a genius.”
My workshop fared no better. Get this: you get “stats” of some kind for adding certain types of objects to your buildings. I have no idea what these little stats are, but I have some of them maxed out. The one with the icon that looks like a little guy with a graduation cap on, for example. I can only assume that one is the “genius” category. That seems right.
That was as far as I got, alas. I play games with a timer sitting next to me these days, which helps me not… um… well, if you’ve read my blog previously, you have a rather exact measure of what that is designed to prevent. Anyway, at that point my time was up, and She had Rome all loaded and ready to rock. So we debauched our way through the ascension of Cleopatra, and called it a night.
I think I had a point when I started this. What was it?
Oh yeah. Tired. Yeah. I’ll sleep when I’ve died! 10,000 times. And, you can’t die in MySims, so I should be good to go.