I’ve noticed that people that know how to eat are never idiots.
One needs to learn how to eat. But first, one needs to recognise that the need to acquire the talent is even necessary at all. It took me some little time, but once I had the skills I realised that perhaps I could apply the same process to other aspects of my life. So I learnt how to dress. I learnt how to travel. I learnt how to seduce. I learnt how to read. Whereas before I had merely consumed books, now I discovered the art of reading well. The drawback to this was the newly acquired inability to put up with sub-standard writing.
Along the way I learnt how to play video games. You may give a man the finest meal he has ever had, but if he does not know how to eat, it will have been wasted. And the man himself? He will scoff at the art digesting now in his ungrateful stomach. What kind of a meal was that, he will sneer. I’ve had better.
Skyrim is that meal. The game’s designers have placed art upon the table. But what we do with it is out of their hands. And we are bound by our own restraints. If our knowledge on how to truly play a game is lacking, then it will be reflected in the game itself. There is no right way to play the game, much as there is no right way to eat a meal. Knowledge is key. With the correct grasp of how to eat, the meal can reach new heights, and the satisfaction is deep indeed. Can this be understood? Only by those who know.
I have played 138 hours of Skyrim since its release. I have finished a single quest line, and I have a single character. The game is akin to a fine bottle of scotch that I can savour when the mood takes me. The more I enjoy it, the more I value it, the more pleasure it gives. Perhaps I will play a couple of hours tonight. Where shall I go, what shall I do? The game is my guide.