Today, I’m going to ask myself if I really like playing Hitman:Absolution, or if there’s something seriously wrong going on here. Or why I like playing it. Whatever. Words.
It’s been about a week and a half since I played, so it’s going to be somewhat “new”. This way I can probably more easily pinpoint those “fun” spots.
I’m having sex with this game.
So it’s the beginning of Dexter Industries and already I’m sad because of the dog. And there is no way a snake that big can eat a boxer. Maybe. I’m not an expert on snakes.
It’s so godamn meticulous. If you want to do it right, you can’t make a single mis-step. Also I think this game is teaching me patience. Fuck you, 47.
I hate this game.
A familiar dark weight had been crushing her for a long time, and here it was finally before her. Not the thing itself, but what she was able to see. Knowing that there was a difference never helped.
But what she could see, the thing’s avatar her mind created, was up there in the bedroom’s corner, pressing through the white ceiling like a gargoyle-themed Frighteners. She was a little dissapointed that Frighteners would be what she conjured. It was still pretty effective, but the thing that was actually there was on the other side of the room and far more unsettling.
Her muscles were locked. Moving took a certain effort, concentrating on parts of the body, politely asking them to move at her command like they were supposed to and stubbornly refusing. The body going on strike is one of those signs where either you’re experiencing a phenomena known as sleep paralysis, or your world is kind of fucked.
She knew her world was fucked because the dogs were barking at the corner where the thing actually was and where she physically couldn’t look.
It had been a while since she’d been properly spooked, and a proper spook took a proper prayer. Through it, she was able to move, however incrementally. And she was able to turn her head to face the thing to make it go away and then she was sitting up, the dogs calm, a sense of time having passed and things going back to the sort of normal she’d come to expect.
The thing wasn’t gone. It was more like several layers of insulation had been installed in the walls.
She knew it was her fault the thing was there. She wasn’t sure of the reason, but reason mattered less as time had worn on. All she knew was that it had been there with her at least since her pre-teen years and probably since birth. It was the reason for the path her life had taken, not because it forced its will upon her, but because she let it.
That’s what she told herself. She refused to believe that her life was orchestrated by strings she couldn’t see.
She believed in God.
She went the fuck back to sleep.