Contemplating the gentle pillow of the keyboard.

I am tired.  Or possibly sleepy.  Headed out for dinner and there was a milkshake… I think it was a milkshake the size of the meal itself.  Which is sort of scary.  On top of a mostly empty stomach, I am feeling like I’m heading for a food coma.


Uhm, right.  Focussing.  Focussing through the yawning.  There was some geeking about Fallout: New Vegas at dinner, and acknowledgment of the generally wonderful storyline of Vault 11–wonderful in the sense of institutionalized ritual sacrifice, unnecessary murder, horror, and social experimentation.  Currently the favourite in terms of non-necessary main-game stories, but since it’s Fallout: New Vegas, there might be something else we’ve forgotten about.  I mean, I’m up past 240 hours and I don’t think I’ve visited half the places on the map yet…

It occurred to me, just now, that I first played a Fallout game in the late 90s.  Not quite half my life ago, but edging up there.  And I’m still interested in it; in the world, in the in-game history, in the characters (oh, lord, the characters) and factions, in the little background ties and references between games.  In how someone–several someones–managed to make a world so incredibly rich and then stand back and not explain it all.  I mean, I’m sure of several things, but I don’t think I’ll ever get proof, and…

Dammit, if I came up with something that neat, I’d want to tell people about it.  How do the designers manage to not?

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