Tag Archives: wtf am i doing?!

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.


Wanna play a game…?

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??


Wanna play a game…?

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