Sometimes I go into rage fugues…

The Spoony One | Apr 18 2009 | 

I’ve been accused of trying to be hip and topical with my recent focus on DRM and copy protection, in some attempt to drum up controversy, dust off my soapbox and get some good old righteous indignation back in my rhetoric, but actually there’s nothing quite so manipulative to it. I’m not trying to whip up scandal by voicing pro-hacker sentiment, it’s just that the last month or so has really been a nightmare when it comes to gaming.

I’ll try to explain. This is what’s happened basically every time I’ve tried to play a game I installed in the last couple of years, but never got around to playing because of work:

1) Spoony gets bored/pissed off/stressed and decides to play a game.

2) Tries to get past the solo of “Cult of Personality,” fails, and snarls something incoherent and vile as he finds ice for his wrist.

3) Looks through his PC game list and realizes to his sorrow that most of his games suck, and that he intentionally purchases sucky games to amuse you. This reminds him of work, which he should be doing, and angers him even further. He ponders taking up hardcore drinking.

4) Finds an installed game he never got around to playing.

5) The game demands to see the actual disc because of copy protection measures.

6) Spends the next six hours tearing the place apart looking for a disc because it invariably arrived in a fucking paper goddamn sleeve.

7) If I ever find it, I’m too tired by this point and decide to go to sleep.

Anyway, that’s pretty much been the story whenever I’ve tried to find a way to unwind in the last couple of months. My own lack of organization has really made things harder than they needed to be. After losing my copies of both Civilization IV and Neverwinter Nights 2 (and trust me, I went through every disc and even lifted every piece of furniture in the room– NWN2 is gone, man.)

And if I hear one goddamn word about a CD wallet or one of those flippy CD books, I will have you flayed.

I lost a whole day as I resolved to simply clean the damn room and print up jewel case labels for every paper-sleeved disc in my possession. My hands are now damn near crippled, but I’m happy at last. They all have lovely, wonderful end-labels. It’s beautiful.