I am dismayed by the lack of hair style options. If The Sims could offer zulu knots, why can’t these people? Eh, a ponytail is functional enough. I have fixed my face, my hair, my chin, and the millions of other weird options and now..
After the jump, on to Skyrim!
…where I guess I’ve been knocked out and captured by some assholes! Okay. Whatever. Maybe in Skyrim they love horses and they’ve heard of me. I was pretty fearsome previously. Reputations do get around after all. I’m subject to a boring ass wagon ride where these guys won’t shut up about whatever, but I appear to be stuck listening to them until we arrive in town. There a fellow woman is giving…execution orders? Whoa, whoa! Back the fuck up! Surely once she gets to me she’ll realize it’s a mistake.
What the fuck do you mean you don’t know who I am? Remember that time your entire world was taken over by demons? Oh right, you don’t, because I stopped it! Seriously, where the fuck were you guys? Judging by the number of horses around, it is clear you are all retarded. This gets confirmed for me when they decide they don’t know who I am, but they’re just going to behead me anyway. No wonder people are rebelling. I’m a fucking tourist and here I’ve been kidnapped by the army and now they’re going to execute me for…for visiting?
Luckily right when they’re about to kill me (seriously do bards not travel to tell the tale of what happened? They’re all “By Oblivion!” well I fucking crushed Oblivion, people! Recognize my heroics!) a dragon shows up, thus proving that dragons are way fucking better than horses.
Except it seems to be indiscriminately trying to kill everyone. Hm. This could be problematic. As walls fall around me (and they seem to mostly want to fall on me) I just start running in random directions, following a dude with an arrow on his head. It’s very disorienting and I just want to get away from the walls of fire that keep falling on me and inevitably in the middle of someone saying something about whatever, I end up following a guard somewhere. Something tells me that this was a major choice point that I missed by stumbling about, but fuck it, I don’t want to be eaten by a god damn dragon that should love me, so away I go.
It turns out now that the soldiers will like me or something and I can live with that until I brutally betray them. I go about my business like this is cool with me and wander the countryside until some not-a-viking king asks me to go get something that will…oh who knows, I’m not listening to people talk. Something something, get this thing, it will be surrounded by treasure. Sounds good to me! In the meantime I proceed to pick up everything that’s not nailed down. My uncle Gabe once told me the more brooms you have the more prepared you are.
I’m not about to let him down.
Up next: horses make you stupid
Click here for the previous entry of Skyrim: The Real Enemy Is Horses
When not killing horses, Marley enjoys fixing computers, digging up ancient civilizations, acting in terrible webisodes, and cats.