![]() Videogames are a hazy cocoon in which I can work out where my passion and hurt comes from: as if in therapy, I wrap myself in remembering them. We worry about our kids being desensitised by the violence in Call of Duty, but even non-violent games have trained me to become needy for a reaction, a thrill ride, that dopamine rush. ![]() Grim Fandango is a fucking fine wine of quiet contemplation and mariachi I agonize over Bioshock because he played over our save, goddamn Sven Co-op is in some of my most fucked-up happy dreams, don’t even ask (I know that you will ask). Why can’t I talk about games like this? What is stopping us? Is it the Call of Duty bros? Fuck that. ![]() A friend told me that I am a Belle and Sebastian lyric (I want it to mean that I am beautiful and Scottish and mysterious) but I have no idea what that means.
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