As a child, Fallout 2 is a wonderful game, but very probably for only about half of the right reasons.
Elements of imperfection are as much a part of a relationship as the parts that work flawlessly.
One melon, one conversation, and one favor at a time.
At exactly six in the morning, the cries of a rooster pierce through the peaceful rest of the farmhouse.
A frankly silly journey that works much better than it probably should.
Sometimes, even the most stalwart heroes need a bit of peace.
There’s a weird amount of joy hidden in the passive hand of The Sims.
For five minutes of game time, the pace never relents.
When I was younger, space had very little meaning to me.
Driven by physics.
Even in space, I aspire to do a little bit of light reading.
Games train us to chase the next goal, but some days merit an afternoon nap.