Selective complaining

Take a bullet in the face and walk away fine,

Saving and loading when playing offline,

NPC’s standing in their shops all day,

Heroes that never have anything to say.

“I don’t see a thing to complain on this list,

When I play, these things don’t make me pissed,

But sound in space and I’m outraged!

The hero’s too old, she should be teenaged!

That’s totally not how afterburners work!

The detail’s all wrong, it’s a dagger, not a dirk!

Game devs are dumb, dumb or just asses

They should take some physics and history classes!”

Fans discussing games is often like this,

Selective complaining, a communal hiss.

I don’t find it fun, but I hope they do

Otherwise it’s a useless indignation stew.


Soul of Cinder

The final enemy at the end of my journey,

The very last jouster in my third tourney.


Ash and soot, sand made into glass,

The sun eclipsed by a dark, black mass.

I climb the hill onto an ash plain,

Ready myself to be once again slain.

Soul of Cinder, a man of fire,

Somehow familiar, fierce and dire.

We start the duel, I break sweat,

I’m reminded by someone I have met.

The Soul of Cinder made me cry,

Not because I would die and die,

(As opponents go, he was fair,

He took me on, shoulders square.)

It was the music that started to play,

Amidst the black sky and ground of gray.

The piano I heard such a long time ago

Such sweet sadness, gentle and slow,

Gwyn, Lord of Cinder was there once more,

Entered my memories and opened a door.

I forgot where I was, just for a flash,

Was beaten to a pulp, ground into the ash.

No time for nostalgia in the middle of a fight,

Not even when it burns incandescently bright.

Dark Souls, I will always remember,

The search for humanity, for the feeble ember.

Crabs on the shore

A beautiful forest of sunlight and ponds

Makes me forget about swords and wands.

Enjoying the sights, I dip my toes,

See a little crab digging ‘round in my clothes.

I look closer to see what it’s doing,

It found some gum, and oh boy, it’s chewing.

Another one comes up to chomp on my shirt,

A third one already ate parts of my skirt.

They are cute, but I need my clothes

So I nudge them away with the tips of my toes.

I look at the water and see some ripples,

Hypnotizingly beautiful, they come in triples.

I stare and stare, not minding the sound

That I hear coming from deep under the ground.

A crab big brother springs up from down under,

With the sound of a tsunami and crackling thunder.

Looks at me and its smaller kin

Escaping wherever and judges my sin.

Takes just a moment to lifts its claw

20 feet long, commanding much awe,

Brings it down to where my body sits,

This time I’m flattened, not torn to bits.

“You died” once more, I think time two hundred.

“Does this ever get boring?” is what I wondered.

Demon in the catacombs

I strike them down, they get back up again,

These fleshless, muscleless, moving men.

Some crucified in wheels of a cart,

Some like a king rat, gruesome art.

Skulls and bones rattle under my boot,

As I escape through corridors of soot.

One wrong turn and I see flames,

A demon of fire is through playing games.

He woke the skeletons by crushing one,

Now he’s burning as hot as the sun.

Bone gets charred but does not slow down,

Encircling the demon all the way around.

He trashes and crushes and jumps in the air,

A score of undead clinging to his hair.

They hack and stab, bleeding him dry,

Until he dies with a mournful cry.

The undead, having vanquished their foe,

Turn towards me and my torch’s glow.

I turn to run but don’t get far

I’m crushed to death by something bizarre.

A ball of bones rolling down a steep hill

Squishes me flat and I feel the thrill

Of a new try coming up, one of many.

Which one’s this? One hundred and twenty?

Satyr man

I played Dark Souls 3 yesterday. It is a pretty damn amazing game. This is inspired by a run through an unknown area in the swampy parts of the game.

I ran on the Swamp of Noxious Fumes,

Speeding past slugs and ancient tombs.

The poison seeping through my boots,

Stumbling over bodies and roots.

I see a big man and a much bigger sword,

Run like hell from this Hades’ lord.

Past trees and bones and still more slugs

I come to a clearing with no signs of bugs.

See a sky-gazing two-legged creature

With one distinguishing, alarming feature.

In addition to being nine feet tall,

With muscles perfectly made for a brawl.

It had a skull of a goat for a head,

As I saw this, I stopped dead.

The sword lord attacked this satyr in rage,

Was beaten to a pulp with his own ribcage.

I stared at the scene in amazement, awe,

The satyr turned to me with a blood dripping maw.

I started running, slowed down by the bog,

Bouncing behind me, hidden in the fog

I heard a laugh that froze my heart.

Stumbled and fell, was torn apart.

Game side-effects

Are you sure you want to play?

I mean, it’s a fun thing on a rainy day,

But, mind you, side effects are aplenty.

I won’t list all of them, not all twenty,

How about three and then I’ll ask again,

If you’ve had enough, just say “When”.

Uncontrollable rage is one,

It’ll come, and you thought the game’d be fun.

Just wait until you’ll get the short end,

Of Lady Luck’s stick, it’s not your friend.

The second one is pain in your lower back,

Caused by tense muscles (you can hear them crack?),

Which is caused by reason number one,

Tensing up as rage overwhelms fun.

Number three, what? Let’s go outside instead?

Okay then. Monopoly goes back under the bed.