The best blog in the universe: Dreams, Warts and Punishing Games

One nice thing about being all grown up and feeling reasonably satisfied with one's job, love-life and financial situation is a complete lack of nightmares. I used to have those until just a few years ago. You know, those childish ones. Zombies and shit. The bad thing about not having any nightmares is how my subconscious makes up for it by dreaming up a whole lot of seriously weird shit. All the time.

One recurring dream involves me being seriously late for school. I'd get up reluctantly, hop on my bike and get my ass to school, only much, much too late. Heck, sometimes I decide I cannot even be bothered and I just ride to the nearest park to read comics and tell my parents I was in school all day. I used to do that sometimes. The fucked up thing is, I haven't been to school in well over a decade!
But I'm not just late for school. Some nights I'm late for work! I actually dream about driving to the editorial office, grabbing any random computer and finishing up my articles. But I'm a freelance games journalist and I can't stress the freelance part enough. I have never met any of my employers face to face, let alone set a foot into one of their offices!

And when I'm not late for stuff, I'm moving. With Claire. Into the most ridiculously large, luxurious houses, surrounded by miles upon miles of amazing landscapes. And every single one of these places come with a kickass kitchen. I know, because that's always the first thing I check. You see, I'm happy in Nottingham, I love our little home and I don't wanna move, but a kickass kitchen would be one of the things that would make me want to leave this place. My family used to live in an estate big enough to qualify each and everyone of us as the murderers in an episode of Columbo. I don't miss it, I don't care much for material goods that go beyond gaming hardware, but it looks like my subconscious has decided otherwise. Then again, my subconscious seems to be a bit fucked up these days, anyway. The most recent "we're living in a nice big house" kinda dream got interrupted when one of my friends I know through work showed up in those red Baywatch trunks, asking us if we wanna go to the beach. And no, I don't swing that way as far as I'm aware and I don't know wtf he was doing there, but I didn't go back to sleep for the rest of that night.

Speaking of things that are fucked up: My body. Now, if you've never seen me, but you know I write about games for a living, then you'll know what I look like. I look like somebody who writes about games. For a living. At home. It doesn't leave much to the imagination. I don't trim my facial hair to perfection like those guys in the homoerotic shaver commercials. I don't buy products containing Q10, Aloe Vera, bumblebee testicles or whatever the fuck kinda shit they're putting in that stuff today. I don't moisturise.
When I'm at home, my grooming habits leave room for improvement. But I draw the line at warts. One day I woke up with one of those fuckers right on my damn forehead. I can't deal with that kinda shit. I refuse to walk around like Obi Wan fucking Kenobi.

The real reason why Episodes I-III sucked

So I went and bought some Bazuka. What a fucking stupid name. The manual is actually a huge collection of warnings in red print. My favourite part is: "Do not put on genitals (sex parts)!" I dunno what's funnier. That they're telling me not to put wart medicine on my cock or that my cock is a sex part. Oh well, so much for my plan of applying it to my dick, then slapping it against my forehead a few times.

So I laughed at the instructions, chose to ignore them and put a load of that stuff right on Obi Wan. Holy shit. IT BURNS LIKE FUCK! Apparently the stuff is acidic and it just melts your fucking face right off. The next 5-10 minutes turned into a massive bitchfest, because the damn thing would burn like hell until it turned into a weird, crusty white booger. Well there's an improvement. Turn a small wart into something twice as big, gross and visible. Thanks, Bazuka!
You're supposed to just leave that stuff over night. So I left it alone for a day, damn thing went rock hard and then I was supposed to just pull it off. Now there's a fun sentence to quote out of context. Anyway...

The white stuff peeled off with ease on the edges, so I just grabbed it and pulled and pulled some more and OH MY FUCKING GOD I CAN SEE MY SKULL! That whole damn wart was completely dried up and stuck to the white film I was peeling off and suddenly I had this gaping hole in my forehead. And that wasn't even the fun part! You see, in order to completely remove the whole thing and prevent reinfection, you're supposed to apply a new layer of that shit after peeling off the first one. I filled up the wart-hole with burning, acidic goo!
I have stepped on broken glass with my bare feet once. Broken my wrist, torn my springs, got a huge-ass tattoo, watched the European Song Contest. But nothing quite compares to the sensation of putting Bazuka on a bodily crevice, which should not even exist in the first place.

I don't really know where warts come from or why the fuck I suddenly got one. And right on the god damn forehead at that. But that kinda shit made me think. I think next time, should I ever happen to get another one in this life, maybe it really isn't so bad. Maybe some off-looking bump isn't as awful as the sensation of searing, screaming pain that comes with trying to remove one of the damn things. I mean, it works for Christian Eyewart Bale, right?

He speaks through his wart when he's Batman.

Also, Dark Souls. Particularly this shit:

And that asshole:

But most of all this fucker:

You know, I really liked this game. The parts I have played so far were fucking difficult, but after enough practice, I managed to finish them all. Then I came across that stupid giant butterfly. It's a fucking butterfly for fuck's sake! What can it possibly do to me? That's what I asked. Damn thing came flying up to me and I asked: "What can you possibly do to me?" And it insta-killed me with some giant green laser beam.

The 'Wandering Demon' on the 2nd picture follows a relatively simple Zelda-Style pattern and mostly uses two predictable attacks. Easy, right? Well, that's until you screw up and get hit. You don't just lose a heart or some shit the way you do in normal games. You fucking DIE!
And don't get me started on that armored dickhead in the third picture. That guy's armor is about as difficult to crack as it looks and that giant, petrified cock he's swinging, is very capable of taking you out in a single hit. Which makes armor and health potions a bit pointless, but Dark Souls isn't exactly about fair boss fights.

I know I made fun of Claire for throwing her controller around when things didn't go according to plan, but last night I very much wanted to throw around my own controller a bit. The most infuriating thing is how insanely easy that last boss was when I finally got him. I'd run laps around him, he'd never hit me and three backstabs later he was toast. I had tried that exact same strategy all night long and he'd still get me every single time, usually taking me out with just one hit. Why the fuck he was so completely helpless on my final attempt, when I was about ready to give up for the day, I have no idea. And now I'm about to face an area, which, according to the community, is the most unfair and frustrating part of the entire game: Blighttown. I hope I have enough money for extra controllers...

On a happier note: Coop works and is awesome, within the harsh restriction of Dark Souls' summoning rules.