Monthly Archives: August 2017

Skyrim: No one’s ever given me a girl before…

Today I killed a dragon; then I ate his soul. It’s complicated.  But now I can get people away from me by yelling at them and that’s pretty cool. The Jarl was so happy I saved the town he gave me a lot of stuff I can’t carry. Then he gave me a girl to help carry it, which was sweet, but now I have a girl following me around.

She seems to have a bit of a chip on her shoulder though. It’s hardly my fault the Jarl gave her to me. I tried to tell her I wasn’t comfortable owning her, but she was welcome to stay as a friend of her own free will – but the game wouldn’t let me express that properly.

She keeps asking how she can help so I asked her to carry some things for me to help her feel useful, because I know *I* like to feel useful, but she got snippy with me about it:

*sigh* “I’m sworn to carry your burdens…”

Maybe I’ll trade her for a dog. Dogs are never sarcastic about helping. No one’s ever given me a girl before.


It’s been a few days and Lydia (the girl) is still following me around and being snarky about carrying things. I’m trying to figure out if I need to feed her and make sure she sleeps or if she takes care of herself.

Can she die? What happens if I hit her? If I run into her she says “ouch” so I know she can feel…

It seems weird to just be all “okay… I’m going to bed… are you just going to stand there and stare at me all night…?”

Apparently I can tell her to wait places and she will. Can I leave her in the middle of nowhere? That seems dangerous. Shouldn’t I put her somewhere safe??


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Skyrim: The road to Whiterun

I made my way to Whiterun when it became clear my Terminator wouldn’t be escorting me further. It’s probably for the best though as I discovered I can pick flowers and promptly did so at every opportunity, often straying from the path and encountering buzzing piles of homicidal greenery.

I went through two of them figuring anything that hard to beat must be guarding something good, but as far as I can tell they don’t. I’ll go around the next one; they’re just not worth it.

I encountered several animals in my travels and my experiences vary. I can catch butterflies but not without fulfilling some unconscious desire to pull off their wings. I don’t remember needing to do this but I found their wings in my inventory, so I definitely did.  Sorry butterflies.

Wolves just try to kill me which is unfortunate since it forces me to kill them back.

Most everything else (deer, rabbits, etc.) just run away no matter how quietly and slowly I approach. I also approach unarmed as I just want to be their friends, but no luck.

Until today.

Today I met a cow. The cow I could approach without scaring but that’s about it. When I discovered I could neither pet nor talk to the cow we just kind of stood and stared at each other for a while before the cow got bored and wandered away to graze.

It was then I had the idea to feed the cow and proceeded to chase it around the pasture and throw a carrot to it for about an hour before thinking that maybe cows don’t like carrots but I wouldn’t know because I’ve never been friends with a cow before. Maybe he was insulted for something? Sadly I was forced to abandon my quest for cow friendship, at least until I could do some research.

Later on I found a horse though and even if I dropped the carrot and backed away it wouldn’t eat it and that’s not like any horse I’ve ever met — and I’ve met a lot of horses.

I also can’t figure out how to give things to people. Sometimes when you talk to a guard he says, “I’d be a lot happier and a lot warmer with some mead in my belly,” and I think, Hey! *I* have mead! but it won’t let me hand it to him. All I can do is drop it on the ground like a boss.

“Here’s your mead, I THREW IT ON THE GROUND!” but that just seems rude…


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Skyrim: Is everyone like this?

I spent some time exploring the town, trading some things, finding food, stuff like that. Some arrogant looking man was wandering through the streets complaining loudly about some girl choosing some other guy:

“I fought a frostbite spider,” I say because whomever created this world didn’t think frostbite or horse-sized spiders were bad enough on their own.

“How am I ever going to win her back?” said Mr. Arrogant.

“I was with Hadvar,” I add. “We also found a bear but I didn’t fight him because he just stood there doing his I’m-so-scary-dance so I went around him, but Hadvar is a terminator so he just kind of went through him. Poor bear didn’t stand a chance.”

The man looked at me a moment and said “I know how to get her!”

Oh good, we’re on the same page then…

He gives me a scathing letter listing everything wrong with his beloved because he’s just that charming. He asks me to give it to her and tell her it’s from the other man, then bounds away in glee; we’re all here to serve you, guy.

Later I ran into her and I passed her the letter, but I told her exactly who wrote it and why. You’re welcome.


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Skyrim: Welcome to Riverwood

Hadvar leads me to a town called Riverwood and introduces me to a couple there. He makes himself at home and begins babbling about Stormcloaks and dragons again. Really, I’ll need to teach him some new phrases.

“Well you’re pretty, I’ll give you that, ” says the lady of the house, “just stay away from my husband.”  I’m just full of good impressions it seems. I wonder if I’ll meet anyone in this world who doesn’t think the worst of me right away.

I wander around and find they seem to be okay with my taking one of everything, but I don’t. *I* find a bookcase. There can’t have been more than ten books on it but believe me I read them all.

Meanwhile, the terminator is trying to recruit me to join the Imperial Army because he can’t seem to remember the part where they tried to have me beheaded. He tells me to go to Whiterun and talk to the Jarl. As soon as he says this, those words roll up my screen like some great presentation but no one else seems to notice. I discover some menu buttons and figure this is now my mission.

I go back to reading books.


At some point during my reading I managed to wedge myself between the bookcase and a barrel. Despite the fact the barrel was empty, I couldn’t just push it out of the way because apparently I’m a huge wuss. I jumped around, ran into things, and generally made a huge commotion but the three other people in the room must have thought I’d turned rabid or something because no one came to help me.

Somewhere in the course of my cornered animal-like panic, I discovered I am MAGIC because I ended up shooting a fireball and igniting the wall of the house. I felt pretty bad about that but no one else seemed to notice or react in any way at all. I can’t help but think the force of the blast should have moved the barrel for me but physics seems to be broken today.

When I finally broke out I inspected the wall thoroughly and it wasn’t on fire anymore and there didn’t seem to be any damage. No one said anything about it but I helped the man forge some weapons for his shop later in an attempt to make amends.  Sorry I almost burned down your house, guy.


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Skyrim: You’re getting awfully judgey, Screen.

I don’t know how but I somehow managed to not die a fiery death that day. Through a series of uncoordinated and clumsy movements I managed to catch up to the terminator, who stood patiently waiting among the chaos.

As  I approached him, he took off toward another building then stopped to watch me lumber along behind him. When I caught up he went in. I’m starting to sense a pattern here.

Inside, the terminator began babbling about dragons and Stormcloaks, which seemed a bit silly for a robot from the future, but I just kept my mouth shut and followed  him around like Igor from a Mel Brooks movie. This turned out to be a good strategy because he unbound my hands.

“Pickpocket Hadvar?” asked the screen. Oh. He has a name. Well that’s good. But stealing from a killer machine who just unbound my hands seems ungrateful at the very least.

“Let’s get you some supplies,” says Hadvar. So I wander off to explore the room.

“Pick lock?” my screen asks as I approach a prison cell. Picking locks and stealing from others, huh? You certainly don’t have a very high opinion of me, Screen. But why not? It looks empty to me… 

So I picked that lock and every other lock in the room. I also picked up everything I could and practiced moving around and jumping for a while. The terminator watched this all stoically from the door. An hour later I approached him.

“Are you done?”

Why yes, Hadvar, I’ve had my fill of this room. Lead on!

I’ll say one thing for him, he’s extremely patient. 


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Skyrim: Swan Dive

I’m not moving.

I’m just standing there as panicked people spontaneously combust around me.

The terminator took off towards a door but I remain still. A brief experiment reveals I can now move on my own. Of course. NOW I can move. A fine time to be abandoned by my  possessors but all things considered they clearly want me dead.  This seems illogical. Never-the-less I attempt to run after my terminator and find I move with the grace of a newborn foal.


I stumble into the building my terminator disappeared into and find more people in a panic. Less of them are on fire though, so I figure we’re better off than before. I look around for Ulfric Stormcloak since the dragon came quite strategically and I’m no dummy but he’s no where to be seen.

The terminator informs me if we can make it to the something-or-another we should be safe and then takes off up the stairs. I’m a little confused, but I guess they don’t do so well with fire considering they’re made of metal.

I follow him up drunkenly and he yells, “follow me!” and jumps out a window. Maybe he wasn’t programmed to understand the vulnerabilities of humans? But then it occurs to me that no one ever said I was human, so I proceed to belly-flop into a burning pile of wood.

“Your hands are bound,” says the screen helpfully.


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Skyrim: John Connor will save me

Someone is yelling at another prisoner to my left. They keep calling him Ulfric Stormcloak so I imagine this is important.

I’m being led to the head-chopping-block, presumably against my will, by someone or something unseen. The ground begins to tremble, distracting pretty much everyone, and I take the opportunity to try to run:

“Your hands are bound,” the screen says helpfully. I don’t see its point; I don’t need my hands to run. It becomes clear I’m in no way in control of my own limbs because I continue moving towards the block. Maybe I’m a robot?

They continue yelling at Ulfric Stormcloak while I stoically approach my death. Kneeling, I place my head on the block. Apparently I’m suicidal, too.

The ground shakes and I hear weird noises. Everybody panics. I’m not sure what I will do, so I sit back and wait to find out. I stand up. Seems wise. People are yelling about a dragon and then bursting into flames.

“Your hands are bound,” I am reminded.

A man in an imperial uniform begins yelling to me and suggests I follow him to safety, which seems a little odd considering these people just called for my execution. It suddenly occurs to me that what he essentially just said was “come with me if you want to live” and I decide he must be a terminator sent by John Connor to protect me.

I wonder why I’m important to John Connor and wait for my robot overlords/puppet masters to move me to safety.


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Skyrim: The adventure begins…

So I started playing Skyrim today. I woke up in a wagon with my hands bound. Apparently I was crossing into Skyrim and was arrested. I don’t know why. I don’t remember any of this. The people around me are talking and it’s probably helpful if I were paying attention, but I’m not. I’m looking at anything and everything. I wonder how I got here and where I’m going. I wonder who I am.

We stop and are forced from the cart. I gather we are in Helgen. People are still talking and I’m still not listening. I don’t seem to have control of anything but my eyes. Maybe I was poisoned? Maybe I’m a puppet?

“Wait.” says an imperial guard. I guess I was paying enough attention to hear someone identify him. “Who are you?” he demands.

This is an excellent question and I am eager to hear my answer. Instead I am given a plethora of decisions to make. Fascinating! I get to choose.

Feeling a bit put-on-the-spot, I explore each option thoroughly. Several hours later I become a “Brenton” (whatever that means) named “Rose.” I must have told them so because they begin referring to me as “the Brenton,” and I clearly wasn’t welcome because they immediately decided to execute me. I wonder what I did… maybe I decided to make my cheeks too round??


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