I can't stand playing all these deep RPGs I know and love, on library computers... I feel like someone's watching my face/reactions constantly, so whenever the good bits come up I just DENY them the pleasure of what I feel the game is depreciated, having even 10% of my attention detracted from its glory~
I miss the days of playing PS1/PS2 games with my best friends, so bad...
I can't even stand to listen to, online, people talk about Baldur's Gate, Champions of Norrath, much less all the classic RPGs like aaaall the final fantasies...
It breaks me more than any pain I face today, living homeless again in the desert (and that, fresh outta a tweaker-den like every self-respecting 25-30 year old American); the memories with my closest friends from all the years I played those games, all the little moments we had and all the challenges we set for each other, and ourselves in each oher's company... there is no recapturing that same spirit.
But God only knows, it still lives on in me. Not a day has been lost since I last parted with my true and only friends, and comrades.
I await them rediscovering that.
I'd rather never see them again in this life than taint those memories with new hope- somehow I persist.
Like a hidden wound, unkempt and uncared for.
Seeking to grasp but failing in sadness.
*New Hope reference- playing that piece of shit just proves my point.
I miss the days of playing PS1/PS2 games with my best friends, so bad...
I can't even stand to listen to, online, people talk about Baldur's Gate, Champions of Norrath, much less all the classic RPGs like aaaall the final fantasies...
It breaks me more than any pain I face today, living homeless again in the desert (and that, fresh outta a tweaker-den like every self-respecting 25-30 year old American); the memories with my closest friends from all the years I played those games, all the little moments we had and all the challenges we set for each other, and ourselves in each oher's company... there is no recapturing that same spirit.
But God only knows, it still lives on in me. Not a day has been lost since I last parted with my true and only friends, and comrades.
I await them rediscovering that.
I'd rather never see them again in this life than taint those memories with new hope- somehow I persist.
Like a hidden wound, unkempt and uncared for.
Seeking to grasp but failing in sadness.
*New Hope reference- playing that piece of shit just proves my point.
