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Eternal Skies of Arcadia (Analysis)
Mar. 21st, 2008 01:44 amOh, Skies of Arcadia. You and I have such a complicated history! I bought you almost two years ago, in an attempt to squeeze some role-playing goodness out of my recently purchased GameCube. We breezed together through the first ten hours—remember those sweet days?—and then we got stuck. We got lost in Ixa'taka, and then later above Valua. We didn't even remember what we were looking for, or where we were going. So I took you out of the disc tray, and put you into your box, then onto the shelf.
I had no intention of leaving you there. But, for a long time, I did.
For months and months, in fact. When I sat down with the intention to play a video game, I would look at you on the shelf and ask myself: do I want to spend two hours with you, aimlessly wandering in our airship, waiting for our compass to spin? I would ask myself: Can I, at this point in my life, cope with so many random encounters? The answer, so often, was no.
Then Spring Break of this year arrived and I, having recently exhausted my supply of other games, decided to give you another spin. I'm so glad I did! Once I found that damned Maw of Tartus (or whatever), the story began to pick up, and your charms once again revealed themselves to me. Soon we found ourselves playing for hours at a time. Long hours. Late into the night. Sometimes early into the morning.
These, of course, were hours that would have been better spent in service of my schoolwork, which makes our time together so much more bittersweet. The unflappable protagonist Vyse and his merry band of air pirates, whom I remember now only as my dear friends, may one day soon become my nemeses. In a few weeks, when I present my thesis for all to see, and I'm barely able to fill my allotted time with mumbles and half-assed half truths, your colorful and intricate world (which I explored with the fervor of an addict) will, I'm sure, seem to be nothing more than a Gomorrah of hellish temptation.
So, while I wrested great joy from completing you a few days ago—joy in every way commensurate with the sixty or so hours we spent together over the last two years—most of the pleasure came in the form of relief. I am no longer bound to you! I can trade you away on Goozex! I can once again live the life of a normal man. (At least until your sequel comes out.)
( Lengthy musing about SoA's battle system follows. Read at your own risk. )
I had no intention of leaving you there. But, for a long time, I did.
For months and months, in fact. When I sat down with the intention to play a video game, I would look at you on the shelf and ask myself: do I want to spend two hours with you, aimlessly wandering in our airship, waiting for our compass to spin? I would ask myself: Can I, at this point in my life, cope with so many random encounters? The answer, so often, was no.
Then Spring Break of this year arrived and I, having recently exhausted my supply of other games, decided to give you another spin. I'm so glad I did! Once I found that damned Maw of Tartus (or whatever), the story began to pick up, and your charms once again revealed themselves to me. Soon we found ourselves playing for hours at a time. Long hours. Late into the night. Sometimes early into the morning.
These, of course, were hours that would have been better spent in service of my schoolwork, which makes our time together so much more bittersweet. The unflappable protagonist Vyse and his merry band of air pirates, whom I remember now only as my dear friends, may one day soon become my nemeses. In a few weeks, when I present my thesis for all to see, and I'm barely able to fill my allotted time with mumbles and half-assed half truths, your colorful and intricate world (which I explored with the fervor of an addict) will, I'm sure, seem to be nothing more than a Gomorrah of hellish temptation.
So, while I wrested great joy from completing you a few days ago—joy in every way commensurate with the sixty or so hours we spent together over the last two years—most of the pleasure came in the form of relief. I am no longer bound to you! I can trade you away on Goozex! I can once again live the life of a normal man. (At least until your sequel comes out.)
( Lengthy musing about SoA's battle system follows. Read at your own risk. )
