Saturday morning: My wife is busy beavering away at our
(her) gift shop in the village. Me? Why I am doing what any dutiful husband
would be doing on the first morning of the much revered weekend; I am lying in
bed thinking about getting up. In betwixt thoughts of what I could do to take
the gaming world by storm I drift off again. There is an occasional kick as my
restful companion (Pickles the Dog) joins me in wonderful slumber. Pickles is
most likely dreaming equally adventurous dreams; wondering what it would be
like to devour a bone twice her size (and for the sake of imagery, that would equate
to an oversized chicken wing! Yes, she is that small).
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| Reconstruction of Miss Pickles and Long Bear enjoying a much need nap |
My dreams are broken by the most irritating of sounds, the phone
ringing, “Bugger!"
Who on earth calls at
such an ungodly hour on a Saturday morning..? Er, lunchtime, yeah, lets round
down and call it midday!
Apparently it is my wife. I clear my throat and put on my
best ‘of course I am up, I have been for ages’ voice. She is irritated, I can
feel it the static that is crackling on the line... the static that winds me
up. It really should not exist in 2013, but that is a complaint for B.T. not my
blog.
“A package? For moi? Noooo, what could it be?” Of course, I
already know, but have to play dumb. In her defence, she is only irritated that
this oversized package is not for her.
With renewed vigour I jump out of bed and skip the 5 minute
walk in less than 3. Throwing open the shop door, the biggest smile I can
muster splayed awkwardly across my face (I don’t normally smile in the shop, I
sulk and pretend to kick imaginary little people around the floor until I am
told to go home lest I upset the venerable customers!). Regardless, I am there
and on the surface I am happy. I skip over to my gorgeous wife and give her a
big hug and peck on the cheek and tell her what a wonderful day it is. She
doesn’t fall for any of this, merely scowls and points... “in the back.”
As I open the door that leads to the rear of the shop I can almost hear an orchestral choir singing (aa-aa-aa-aa-aaaaaa). It feels like the scene from Pulp Fiction when Vincent Vega opens the brief case for the first time; a warm glow emitting from within and lighting up my cherub like features (if Cherubs had beards).
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| Vincent Vega: "Ooooh shiny." (Okay wrong franchise) |
And there before me is ‘Dark, Darker, Darkest’. I hauled,
literally hauled, the box over my shoulder and headed out into the bleak
Saturday weather, it was wet and cold. With my strength renewed I hurried home
to the warm confines of my little cottage eager to see what was actually inside,
unsure whether the box would even fit through the door.
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| Putting things in to perspective. The Box vs. Railways of the world, the largest game I own. |
Imagine my surprise. Not one ‘Dark, Darker, Darkest, box,
but two! Two huge boxes of delight (well at least I hope so, I have not yet
gotten to play the game). The first box is the main game, the second box
contains all the Kick Starter bits ‘n’ bobs... Aaaand a third mini bundle of
joy in the form of Metro. Wow! Simply wow!
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| Miss Pickles Vs. Dark, Darker, Darkest (and Metro) |
All there is left to do with them (aside playing of course)
is find somewhere to store them all.
I should say as well, that this was a game KickStarted some time ago and had hoped to pick up while I was in Essen. Sadly (or in hindsight fortunately), I notified them too late and while I made my trip to Germany, it made its trip over here to the UK. I wonder, would that put me over my baggage allowance?
Happy Gaming
Chris
Whilst this post is based on reality, rather inspired by,
some scenes have been altered for dramatic effect (or maybe they are downright
lies!
If you would like to know more about any of the games featured, then click on the links below:
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