If it weren’t for those pesky kids   Leave a comment

Here we go again.

Saturday meant getting up to the best thing for weekends: playing games. Which meant, of course, Skyrim!

Or that was the plan. I’d agreed to go riding, and just after breakfast Mum called to see if I could go an hour earlier than originally planned. I grudgingly agreed (I’d woken up before I expected to), so had to rush around to get ready for that instead.

The ride was uneventful. I wasn’t really keeping up with the world (people must think I’m half-sharp sometimes), but Sam seemed perfectly happy with that (and with the extra-strong mints. Polos seem out of fashion as horse-mint of choice; I don’t know why). I did need the loo all the way, which is the reason I wanted to go later in the first place. My body doesn’t like going out in the mornings.

It doesn’t much like it at any hour, but at least it’s bearable after about 2pm.

But I was soon home for lunch (do these blogs make it sound like my life is just dashing from meal to meal? Because it is), and after that: Skyrim! At last.

I mostly concerned myself with picking pockets; my character doesn’t like hers, you see. At low levels it’s a frustrating slog (if you care about it at all then get the first Pickpocket perk; it really makes a world of difference), but it’s also fraught with hilarity. If you skip the guard conversation when you’re caught (and you will be), you can be sent to the prison building, run back up to him, and have your hands in his trousers again before he’s finished lecturing you. Or people might turn hostile when you’re caught, so you’ll desperately be running to find a guard; “Quick! Arrest me! Here’s the fine! They’re hitting me and it hurts!”.

There’s a bounty of 25 gold if you’re caught pick-pocketing, and so far I’ve shelled out 1,200 in fines. I am Skyrim’s worst pickpocket. I can’t even sell the things I steal, so I’m almost certainly running at a loss. But! A perk a few nodes down lets you carry 100 extra stuff. 425 arbitrary units of loot! That’s what we like to see. And as long as I get the loot by socially responsible methods like wholesale slaughter and pillage, anyone will buy it from me.

“What’s this steel mace worth?”
“About three bandits’ lives.”
“Bargain!”

Talking of pillaging, I had to go to Lidl. On the way home I met an obnoxious creature that’s gone out of its way to accost me before. “Oh, is your name Shaggy?”, it asked.
It’s shouted that name at me before – presumably to get my attention – although I’ve no idea why it thought I’d want anything to do with it (the first time, I didn’t even realise I was the person being shouted at) or why it thought I’d respond to that name.
This time, as it was unavoidably, unignorably standing in my path I merely replied “No”. It continued to speak, although I don’t know what it said; I just carried on walking. What else can you do? If there were any thought or intelligence in it, it would realise why it shouldn’t act in that manner before the event; there’s no point in trying to reason with it. And it certainly wouldn’t be worth the trouble of killing it, which is the only reliable method of altering humans’ behaviour (and if you did it often and early enough you might make “not being obnoxious” an evolutionally-selected trait!). So just keep on walking home.

Because at home there are no obnoxious creatures accosting me, there is Skyrim, and there was an experiment: I’d never tried celeriac, so for dinner I had some roasted with parsnips, sweet potato and gammon steak. And very tasty it was too. Interestingly unusual stuff; it tastes like parsnip would taste if parsnip tasted of celery.

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Posted 29 November 2011 by Colthor in Diary

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