You know, we all play games and think of it as a harmless hobby, one that can cause no real harm, apart from the opinions of those that believe they influence violent reactions and those that do not. But deep down we’re all lying, games are twisted, sordid and plain durty gurl. We all know what we’re doing when we do it, we all turn the lights off and press A and then, reload a save file and press it again. There’s elements, scenes, missions and debauched A pressing moments littered in games and I want to confess my uncomfortable feelings with the sick deviant whore that dwells within me. I call her Shirley Bass ‘et.
In Dishonoured there’s a mission where you must dispose of naughty noble (in fortune only) twin brothers. In the fancy digs, there’s a room. You walk in there, by choice, and it’s extremely bare and dark, the only real light that illuminates the space comes from that which bounces of the electric sparks that come from the contraption before you. A man in an electric shock chair. He thought I was a paid whore and proceeded to tell me to shock him until it gets a bit too unbearable and that his safe word was retribution. So there you are, choosing to flick the lever to give this aristocrat his jollies.
He eventually says the safe word, but you can continue to shock him if you wish in order to get him to tell you the combination to a safe. I get the combination and in a way what I really got was my $100 on the bedside table for getting some old geezer off. I leave the mansion completing my mission, not really knowing where this safe is and slightly glad about it, so I don’t pick up my dirty whore pay. As I walked away, I remembered the title of the mission – “House of Pleasure”. House of FILTH MORE LIKE!
The plethora of guilty feelings was first experienced by a younger, less radioactive bear-me in the form of Duke Nukem 3D. Oh how titillating I found it that I had entered a grotty stripper bar and then how mesmerised I was that by accidentally leaning on the spacebar, that the faceless strippers would expose their tassle boobums. Mesmerised with my repeated ‘accidental’ spacebar proddings.
Then I shot them. They were no better than whores and they were jiggling with wild abandonment, looking for $1 dollar bills while the earth was being rampaged by vicious butt ugly aliens. For all I knew these wenches probably engaged in sexual shenanigans with the pig-cops and so by shooting them in the face I had saved them from their heartless career path and from betraying the nation. Yes…that’s what I did.
Knights of the Old Republic introduced to me my first slavery in gaming experience. Twilek’s for some reason were considered good slave trade fodder, which obviously on its own is pretty horrible, but when a loyal companion and friends on your quest for answers, redemption and saving the galaxy happens to be a Twilek, then you take things personally. On Taris (before the place was blown to shit), you encounter a despicable man and his twilek slave. You can play Pazaak with this disgraceful goatee wearing oaf, in hoping to win the Twilek girl and do what you wish with her, let her be free or subject her to more years of enslavement. But something about the fact that you would ‘win’ her to being with and dictate what her lifepath would be was quite deep.
For such a brief, easy to ignore moment in the game it still echoed later on when Mission Vao finds her lowlife brother and yet again the issue arises over whether she could be offered/traded into slavery and it comes down to you, the human character. In fact forget your race, it comes down to anyone but her.
Knights of the Old Republic II carried on this sentiment with the Czerka enforcement and enslaving set up on the Wookie homeworld of Kashyyyk.
Ahhh Kashyyyk, land of living, breathing, walking revenue!
Bioshock put us in a position of having no choice but to do the bidding of madmen in order to survive. This was especially apparent in a direct manner with good ol’ crazy art enthusiast and bunny wunny lover Sander Cohen. Yes we knew he was batshit and bloodlust (for the sake of art of course, of course) and yet we did his errands for him and put up with his hordes of annoying psychopathic bunny brigades trying to mutilate us from all angles.
Babes put the mask back on, does you more favours
Then of course there’s the fact that throughout the majority of the game we were willingly following the word of a man we never really knew, who turned out to be a lunatic murdering bastard. That Irish accent…it lulls you into a false sense of security so easily <_<
Fallout 3 decided to tug at our ooh dear no that makes me feel a bit funny, sensibilities with Tranquility Lane. Here you can make a child upset and cry and are given a few uncomfortable means of doing so. Harm him physically, tell him his parents are getting divorced. You can kill his parents if you’re someone who likes to go full steam ahead and hasn’t got time for foreplay. You need to kill a housewife, which can optionally be done by setting her stove to explode. I mean there’s accidentally intentional pressing a button to see stripper boobs and there’s Fallout 3.
To be fair, I would have no qualms with shoving this one in an oven
Pokemon, now there’s a game that proves deep down you’re a bastard and a half! Every little murder-capable critter you ‘catch’ is just another victim to non consensual slaving and trafficking. What’s worse is we don’t pit our Pokemon against each under in underground battles beneath dingy bridges, y’know where people who want to hide and have some shame do most of their seedy activities. No we do it openly, publicly and we gamble on it. Pikachu might beat your rival’s Geodude, but Pikachu can hardly fucking move and is hallucinating. Doesn’t matter though, you managed to score a measly £12 that you can go buy booze with, why bother buying Pikachu emergency potions, nah fuck that yellow rat, let him get cared for, for free at a Pokemon centre, when you’re good and ready.
Look what we dooo!!
We need to learn to be more amish-like and shameful. But how can we? We hate on furs, yet we all have a 2nd saved filed of Skyrim where we played as Khajits and have crazy opposable cat thumb sex.
Some of us, not naming names, replay entire RPG stories just to tick off the virtual notches on our bedposts and romance everyone possible and if that includes a desk lamp, then we will woo it and make love to that lamp.
I feel dirty when I play games. I don’t know what I’m going to pick up next and what pornographic interactive quest I’m going to HAVE to participate in. Will I maybe try out a Professor Layton game and instead of unlocking clues via puzzles, I’ll unlock panties via erotic juggling? Who knows, that’s the scary thing. We don’t. No game is safe, no gamer innocent.
Disclaimer: This here was obviously not a serious piece meant to arouse a debate. But it probably aroused some of you in other ways.
Extra Disclaimer: No for real this was super serious, you’re all disgusting sadists!!!