The First-Person Observer

Limbo — The owner of the historic Limbo Hotel is beginning to regret opening the establishment in the dark, shadowy netherworld whose only inhabitants are giant spiders, glowing headworms, and creepy, homicidal children.

The hotel, which opened eons ago, has yet to attract its first overnight guest, despite featuring dozens of dark, unsettling rooms, haunted minibars, a spacious pool filled with spikes, and free HBO. The owner, Conrad Milton, says he was warned against opening the establishment in the bleak dimension between life and death, but was lured in by the inexpensive real estate and lack of competition.

“I figured even if there wasn’t much demand for a hotel in Limbo, by being the only hotel around I’d get 100% of the business,” Milton said. “It’s been centuries, though, and I still haven’t had any guests. I’m beginning to realize that 100% of zero is zero.”

While there are numerous potential guests in Limbo, most find themselves slaughtered, eaten, smashed into paste or drowned before they can reach the hotel.

“I saw someone approaching a few hundred years ago, and I thought he might check in, but just as he got close, a headworm burrowed into his skull and he turned around and started walking in the other direction. I never saw him again.”

“Damn headworms,” he added.

The location of Milton’s hotel is an issue for his employees as well.

“It’s definitely hard finding help,” Milton said. “I hired a maid at one point, but she went outside on a smoke break and was ground into pulp by some giant gears. And my lobby clerk quit after complaining of all the bear traps, water pits, and psychotic children along his route into work. I admit, it’s a rough commute.”

“There was a little boy with glowing eyes who passed through a few days ago,” Milton continued, “but all he did was trash my giant buzzing electric hotel sign. He didn’t check in or even inquire about our rates or amenities.”

“I doubt he had a major credit card anyway,” he added glumly.

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Brooklyn, New York — Citizens attending a seminar on improving their doorway navigation skills became stuck in the doorway to the community center where the seminar was being held, delaying the proceedings for several hours.

The logjam occurred at 11:00 am this morning, when the door to the community center opened, then shut, then opened, then shut again, trapping several attendees as they attempted to all enter the room at the same time. There was a great deal of bumping, jostling, and walking in place, as well as a number of pleasant greetings, annoyed shouts, and several non sequiturs from citizens involved in the failed attempt to pass to the doorway.

“Pardon me!” one attendee, visiting from City 17, said for the fifth time as he walked in place, slowly turned in a half-circle, stopped, and added “Reload, Dr. Freeman!”

“Let’s get out of here,” whispered a former hostage from Montana, while running in place against a nearby wall.

“Let’s go,” he continued. “Let’s get out of here. Come on, let’s go.”

“Cheesy vaginas!” added one visitor from Liberty City.

“I said come in, don’t stand there,” said a Stalker from Rostok, working as a volunteer at the seminar and attempting to help the crowd make through the doorway. “I said come in, don’t stand there. I said come in, don’t stand there.”

“We’ve hit a bit of a snag, obviously, but I’m definitely pleased at the turnout,” said the seminar’s organizer, taking awkward stutter-steps as he attempted to squeeze through the doorway amid the crowd of attendees. “Walking though doorways quickly and safely continues to be a big issue for a number of people, and that really shows in how many people are in attendance. And in how many of us are stuck in this doorway.”

“In hindsight, we probably should have held the conference outside,” he admitted, before freezing in place and then falling through the solid concrete sidewalk up to his waist.

The seminar has hit similar snags in the past. Originally scheduled for April, its keynote speaker became stuck behind a barrel and two crates in the alley behind the community center, leading to the seminar’s cancellation. The conference planned for May began with a two-hour wait as one presenter repeatedly failed to climb a few steps up to the podium, before finally giving up and standing completely still with his arms outstretched.

Not everyone attending the seminar got stuck outside the auditorium, however.

“Doors have never been a particular problem for me,” said Hafid Hollowleg, a citizen of Cyrodiil, as he approached the door, faded from sight, then rematerialized on the other side.

“Oh, I don’t need the seminar,” he added. “I’m just here to meet people.”

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Fort Frolic, Rapture, North Atlantic Ocean – Sander Cohen, resident playwright, sculptor, poet, and theatre critic in the undersea city of Rapture, has definitively determined that minigames are not art, nor will they ever be.

Minigames — generally defined as relatively simple diversionary challenges or activities a lone hero, shadowy mercenary, space commander, or other adventurer might come across in his travels — cannot be compared to artistic works of poetry, dance, or sculptures made of corpses, Cohen recently announced, despite no one asking for his opinion on the matter. These games can sometimes be used to open locks, hack computers, or simply pass a little time for adventurers between their primary goals.

“Minigames have rules,” said Cohen to no one in particular. “Adventurers are given a test of reflexes, or of memory, and are challenged to win the game. That can never be art, as opposed to theatre, wherein actors must commit lines to memory, and speak them in a precise order, and are challenged to succeed in their performance.”

“Minigames have carefully visual elements, created by artists,” he continued.  “Theatres have carefully designed sets, created by artists. They are clearly two completely different things.”

Cohen has also decided ketchup is not a condiment and Shi-Tzus are not dogs

Some wonder if Cohen, a critic who himself has done little or no adventuring, is qualified to determine if minigames are art or not. “I once pried open a vending machine in Olympus Heights,” Cohen said, “and peered at the minigame-controlled mechanism within. I did not see anything that made me want to fiddle with the controls of that machine, nor have I since. That, I feel, makes me qualified to unequivocally judge the artistic nature of these games.”

Cohen, who in addition to having written several plays, has also served as a theatre critic for over thirty years, during which time he felt such a powerful duty to uphold the importance and majesty of the art of theatre that he devised the most basic rating system he could think of. He came up with his trademark phrases of “Hats off!” or “Hats on!”, where the former meant he loved the play, and the latter meant he hated it. For example, a Cohen blurb on a poster for the 1945 play “Home of the Brave” by Arthur Laruents might read “Hats off! Hats way off!”

“That is what anyone who respects art, and defines it for everyone else, must do,” he was quoted as saying. “Define all art as either good or bad, with nothing in between. It’s the mark of a true appreciation for the intricacies of art.”

Many adventurers disagree with Cohen’s broad assessment. Link, an Ocarina-owning adventurer in Hyrule, speaks fondly of a fishing pond he spent a great deal of time at between world-saving quests. “I love that pond,” Link says. “The ambiance, the beauty of the water and trees, watching the night turn to day… it might as well have been a painting. I’ve spent hours there, absorbed by the simple act, or game, of fishing. I can’t imagine why that lovely little pond couldn’t be considered art.”

Some adventurers also object to Cohen claiming that minigames, which continue to evolve, will never be art. What gives Cohen such a certain glimpse of things to come?

“There are things I know about the future,” Cohen said. “I simply just know. For instance, the city of Rapture will always remain a wonderful, beautiful place. Its Art Deco design is a visual feast for the eyes. Its mood, its lighting, its ambiance… why, the city itself a work of art.”

“Minigames, however, will never be anything more than crude distractions.”

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Liverpool, England — Fans crowding into the Cavern Club hoping to witness a stellar, memorable Beatles performance came away shocked and disappointed by the poor showing of the famed rock quartet. According to all accounts, the band played terribly, missing notes and forgetting lyrics, much to the dismay of the gathering of dedicated fans.

“They didn’t seem to know their own songs,” one fan said.  “Wait, not even songs. Song, singular. They kept trying to play the one same song, but never even got all the way through it. Not once.”

“John sounded like a nineteen year-old girl,” another fan said. “He kept giggling and getting the words wrong, and was way, way off-pitch. It was horrible.”

Lennon wasn’t the only Beatle who disappointed fans. “They all seemed to be struggling,” one attendee said. “It sounded like it was the first time they had ever held their instruments.”

“That looked like George Harrison,” another dismayed fan agreed angrily. “But that was no George Harrison.”

“At least Ringo sounded about right,” he added glumly.

“It wasn’t what I was expecting,” said another Cavern Club patron, who initially cheered the band but found himself less and less excited as the show progressed. “I was expecting The Beatles, but this sounded more like a disorganized, possibly drunk bunch of amateurs, trying to play the same one song over and over, stopping in the middle, and then starting over again. What a letdown.”

“John Lennon would be rolling over in his grave,” he added, “if he wasn’t currently on stage.”

After five awkward, fumbling attempts to make it through their 1963 classic hit “Twist and Shout”, The Beatles gave up and ended the show.

“The Beatles suck,” said one long-time fan. “I’m crushed by this. I just hope the Green Day concert I’m going to is better, but I don’t have much hope.”

The Beatles are due to appear on The Ed Sullivan show next Wednesday night, though Paul McCartney has stated he might not be able to make it due to having a Calculus midterm early Thursday morning.

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By Link, Adventurer

Whether you’re visiting Hyrule to rescue an abducted princess, locate missing pieces of the Triforce, or just hoping to find some extra heart containers: remember, it’s dangerous — and expensive — to go alone, so take this handy guide to Hyrule on 15 Rupees a day!

Pack some bombs, a candle, a magic flute, and a power bracelet. Your first stop should be the small cave to the north to pick up a wooden sword from the old man inside. Don’t worry, it’s free of charge!

Looking for some sandy beaches for long, thoughtful strolls and sunbathing? You’re in luck, as there are lots of waterfront areas to explore. Don’t get too relaxed, though, as Zolas tend to pop out of the water, fling fireballs at you, and then pop up somewhere else. If you’re patient, you can stab them to death when they’re close to shore, giving you plenty of time to catch some rays.

There are a number of affordable shops scattered throughout Hyrule, though many are in sealed rock walls or buried under trees, so you’ll need to bring a supply of bombs or a candle to reach them. Be careful of shady merchants with inflated prices. Some shops will try to sell you a magic shield or chunk of meat for almost twice what others will.  Shop around!

Getting around Hyrule can take a while: you’ll mainly be traveling on foot as there are no rental cars, and a few areas, like the Lost Hills and the Lost Woods, are aptly named. Take my advice and travel by magic flute when at all possible. You should also familiarize yourself with the handy warp locations, though you’ll need that power bracelet to move the boulders blocking them.

The local wildlife is both colorful and hostile: take all the pictures you like, but keep your distance. And if you’re injured, here’s a tip: don’t buy expensive healing potions, just visit one of the fairy pools to refill your hearts. They’re simple, free, and those fairies are easy on the eyes!

If you’re up for some gambling, you can visit one of the casinos in Hyrule, where the slots are loose and the prizes are big! Actually, they only have one game, Guess Which Rupee Doesn’t Suck, but it’s good fun for a couple rounds, provided you’re willing to part with a little money.

If you’re looking for a cozy place to spend the night, I highly recommend the Level 2 Dungeon, called “The Moon” due to its crescent shape, on Hyrule’s east side. You might have to clear out a few Bats and Gels, but otherwise the accommodations are pleasant, the music they pipe in is charming in a foreboding way, and when you’re ready to leave, the staff Wall Monster will be happy to escort you out. The place is run by a Dodongo, so please, no smokers.

Finally, while you’re in Hyrule, if you decide to gather all eight fragments of the Triforce of Wisdom and vanquish the evil prince of darkness Ganon, make sure you’re of pure heart, for in the hands of those with an evil soul, the Triforce will plunge the land into darkness, chaos, and utter, hopeless destruction.  Have fun!

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Sunset Valley — Sim Citizen Stiles McGraw, after saving for years to afford his huge, cavernous dream home, was dismayed to discover that his new house is so vast and spacious that it’s destroying his lifestyle.

“I’m miserable,” he said through an interpreter. “By the time I get out of bed in the morning, walk to the kitchen to eat, then walk to the bathroom to wash up, half the day is gone. I missed work yesterday because I wanted to paint on my easel on the deck, and by the time I got out there it was already noon.”

“Last week, I was swimming in the pool, and got tired. The bedroom is so far away I only made it halfway there before collapsing to the floor and falling asleep in the foyer. This house is just way too big.”

McGraw, who worked his way up from a lowly coffee courier to vice president at Sunset Valley’s Office Building, spent years saving his hard-earned Simoleans, dreaming of someday buying a mansion on beautiful Summerhill Court. “I had it all planned out. It would be two stories, nice car in the driveway, hot-tub out back, telescope on the balcony, see-through walls and roof… it was going to be heaven.”

Unfortunately, the reality turned out much differently. “My bedroom is upstairs, and getting down to the kitchen in the morning seems to take forever. Then, I have to prepare an elaborate meal, walk it over to the dining room table, put it down, turn, pull out my chair, sit down, and eat. After that, I’m clearing the dishes, washing them, then it’s off to the bathroom. It’s, like, mid-afternoon by that point. I’m so frustrated I just want to yell and wave my arms at the sky.”

“I mean, there are things I want to have time to do with my life. I bought a new painting for the den, and I haven’t even found time to walk over, look at it, and start applauding. If I want to use my computer to play some games while giggling and hooting, I have to carve out an entire afternoon just to get to my desk. I think I was better off sharing a much smaller house with four roommates on Sunnyside Boulevard.”

McGraw is finding that his spacious new mansion is affecting his social life as well. “I met this cute policewoman one night after someone attempted to rob my mansion. I chatted with her, and called her the next day. She came over, and we talked about how we both liked sailboats and didn’t like tennis rackets. We flirted a bit, I gave her a massage, we kissed a little. I thought, wow, this could definitely lead to some WooHoo.”

He paused, sadly. “But it took so long to get her upstairs to my bedroom, that by the time we got to the bed she had to go to the bathroom. When she finally got done, I was hungry, and while I was headed to the kitchen to make some food, she went out to dance to music on the deck. Hours later, I finally got her back upstairs, but she was tired and wanted to leave, and I needed to use the bathroom so badly I urinated on the floor. It kind of killed the mood.”

What does McGraw plan to do now that his house hasn’t lived up to his expectations? “I’d like to sell it, honestly,” he admitted. “I’m just not sure who would want it. Showing it to a prospective buyer would take all day, and they might get turned off by how huge and inconvenient it is. All the pee stains on the floor aren’t going to help, either. For now, I guess I’m stuck here.”

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