Posts Tagged ‘Tomb Raider’

Happy Halloween from Lars Croft: Tomb Raider. 🔫🔫🎒


After a seemingly interminable winter, Scotland was finally blessed with some sun this past weekend, so we went for a wander around the beautiful campus of Glasgow University. This photo was taken in the Gothic-style cloisters on the grounds, and is notable for encompassing two of my latest loves: the backpack John got me for Christmas (bringing me one step closer to my dream of one day being Lara Croft), and my brand-spanking new, ultra wide-angle lens which has (quite literally) opened up a new world of possibilities in my photography.


The tagline reads Tomb Raider: A Survivor is Born, though quite how Lara Croft survives this one-woman production of Saw is another matter entirely. After being half-drowned, punched unconscious, strung upside down, set on fire, and falling twenty feet to the ground only to land kidney-first on a rusty spike of rebar, we’ve officially entered the first five minutes of the game. And, for poor, beleaguered Lara, it only goes downhill from there. Thankfully the same can’t be said of the game itself, which succeeds in being one of the most enjoyable Tomb Raiding experiences since Lara first welcomed us to her home in 1996. (more…)

Spring has sprung! And brought with it abject ridiculousness. On Saturday, I got to the root (no pun intended) of my recent toothache: as it turned out, the head on my sonic toothbrush had come loose and the vibrations were tearing my gums apart. Good to know. That same day, in preparation for the evening’s pizza/wine/shitty-movies festivities, John and I went in search of social lubrication. Alas, my elation at being outdoors in a t-shirt for the first time this year was quickly superseded by apoplectic rage at being refused to have alcohol sold to me by some chinless hag in Sainsbury’s. (One of the few occasions where I’ll voluntarily proclaim that I’m twenty fucking seven.) Granted though, this was nowhere near as galling as the story our friend, Nicola, told us that night; about the time she was ID’d for not looking 25, showed her driver’s license which proved she was 24 and had the fucktarded wench at the checkout turn to her and say, “I’m sorry, I can’t sell this to you.” Nicola literally had to call a supervisor over to explain to this utter ‘tard that the policy was about looking 25, not being; and – adding insult to injury – the legal drinking age in the UK is actually 18, which makes the store’s policy almost as ridiculous as their employees’ attempts to enforce it. I went to bed that evening with the worst pizza pregnancy, and awoke to find that the “one” glass of rosé I’d had seemed to have manifested itself as several empty bottles the following morning. Reverse Jesus!

Just this morning, our new coffee table arrived: a vintage steamer trunk from the 1920s. This naturally necessitated the purchase of some coasters, though quite how how I ended up buying everything else on my Amazon wish list is something of a mystery. Before buyer’s regret had a chance to set in, however, I received a phone call from my bank telling me that my shopping spree had been flagged as “suspicious activity” and – as a result – that they’d frozen my account. I’m still not entirely sure if I should feel irritated or grateful. And, because these things always come in threes, my suspicion that the ‘i’ key on my laptop was broken has – in the process of typing this very entry – been definitively answered. Hurrah.

Anyway, it’s become painfully apparent that a fair amount of my time since being back has been consumed by my re-introduction to the world of console gaming. Indeed, the PlayStation Network introduced with the PS3 has even developed a badge of sorts to let you know just how much life I’ve wasted on these endeavours:

To put it in perspective, those trophies are only attainable by completing various “achievements” within the game. These range from the obvious and attainable (bronze: complete the game on easy, silver: complete the game on medium…), to the rewarding and challenging (shoot a zombie in the head while it’s jumping in Resident Evil 5, find all six hidden relics in Tomb Raider: Underworld), to the utterly obscure and fucking ridiculous, impossible to even discover let alone complete without the assistance of an online guide (the most egregious one that comes to mind being Final Fantasy XIII’s request that you put in roughly the same amount of time it took you to finish the game in order to “collect every weapon and accessory” even after the developer’s stop rewarding you with a sftoryline thereby removing any incentive to find them because you’ve finished the fucking game).

The highest accolade is the platinum trophy (of which each game has but one), attainable only by exhaustively completing every inane and painful task their creators set you in order to achieve a 100% completion rate. And, as you can see from the picture above, I already have four of them…including the life-consuming platinum trophy for FFXIII. The only consolation? My crippling OCD dictates that I would have done all those things anyway, so at least now I have a badge to impress other geeks across the globe. (And – in the case of online gaming – you can gauge other people’s trophies to save yourself teaming up with someone shit, and/or purposefully place yourself on the opposing team.)

In either event, I sometimes write LiveJournal entries for the amusement of no one but myself, and – as I’m about to express my views on the highs and lows of the games I’ve been playing of late for the purposes of my own recollection – I’ll forgive you for reading/ignoring the rest of this post as the fancy takes you. (more…)