by Mick Neeky
I
am a Dragonborn whether I liked it or not. Anyone who hasn’t played Skyrim
would think me crazy, but do you? Has Skyrim swallowed your social life and
spat it out in a glorious shout? I’ve got to say that after years of murdering,
stealing, and tomb robbing; the thrill hasn’t faded.
My
story of addiction is simple—maybe even similar to yours. A few years ago I
bought Skyrim, back when the hype was well under way, and slayed dragons to my
heart’s content. Oblivious to the main
storyline, I absorbed souls with only one shout at my disposal. Pillaging and
discovering uncharted territory became my mistress. Whenever I grappled onto
that controller I wasn’t me anymore, I was an Argonian resistant to poison and
capable of breathing underwater. Life was good—Skyrim life that is.
The
real world faded into the background, but then again, which world was more
awesome? Then the unthinkable happened: DLC. I, fearing for my social life,
traded Skyrim in for credit.
A
level 42! An Argonian. That was I. All that time roaming through Skyrim wasted.
For years I didn’t miss it, until a few months ago when a friend (whom will
remain anonymous) lend it to me. And the addiction quickly took over my life
once more. Blacksmithing, shouting, and most importantly, stealing, ate me up
like a glorious bust of dragon fire. So swiftly it took over me that maybe,
just maybe, Skyrim needs its own AAA.
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