The Circle of Life: My tale and eulogy

Tonight, I write to you, not to mourn the loss of my fallen comrade, but to celebrate the life it once lived.

It was a damp night. Mother Nature had just offered us a near two-day onslaught of rain water, followed by a breeze which comforted all whom it encompassed. The days had been counting down, for March 9th was widely recognized as the most anticipated date of 2010 so far, due to the impending release of Final Fantasy XIII.

But, to one gamer in particular (yours truly), March 9th would hold its own significance.

As midnight approached, which coincidentally is the time I was scheduled to be at work, I was faced with a moral quandary. “Should I be on time for work, and await my local retailer’s 10:00 AM opening, though I am off hours before, at 6:00? Or should I simply inform work that I am running late, claim what is rightfully mine, and have the game once I am home at 6:30?

I decided upon company loyalty, after much deliberation. That is, until I received a call from my friends.

“Dude! You gonna get FF 13 at midnight? We’re up here in line already!”

Yes, that is all it took. After the heated, hour-long debate I had in my head, all it took to waver my stance was the thought that I would be the “runt” of my proverbial litter; the chump who got the game ten hours after everyone else I knew.

“FINE! FINE!” I said. My reserve copy was stationed just 5-8 minutes from my job, anyway. What would it hurt? I grabbed my copy, and left all but the instruction manual in the car. I couldn’t take the game in with me. I work with gamers. They would know.

The manual, though, was beautiful. It was like reading a 30 page synopsis. I could not wait to get home and play what had become the most anticipated game since my purchase of the console.

I arrive at home. I hit the “Playstation button.” It’s time. I pop open the case and grab the DVD. Final Fantasy XIII is in my hand. I pop it into the console.

BUT WAIT. I forgot my notepad. I am reviewing this game, so I need my notepad. I also need a diet Dr. Pepper and Cheeze-Its. Check – check – check. “Hit the lights, Josh,” I said to myself.

Check.

The opening video plays. The graphics are gorgeous. 1080p? Yes, please! Ah, yes – the main menu.

“New game?” Don’t mind if I do. I hit the start button, radiating with anticipation. The screen goes black; loading the game, I’m sure.

10 seconds go by. 15. 30. A minute has passed. “It’s okay! It must have frozen. Just a quick reboot and we’re BAU,” I reassured myself.

It’s a saying in my head; an acronym for “business as usual”, pronounced “bow.” I never say it out loud, because it’s considerably stupid, but sounds cool in my head. You only know about it now because it is part of the story.

I switch the system off and turn it back on. The system boots up. XMB is active. No Final Fantasy game was listed. I hit the eject button and put the game back in – nothing.

I tried to load Fat Princess, to see if it was a disc-read error. Nothing. I called SCEA customer service and spoke to yet another jerk (if you read my column during the “Leap Year of Death” fiasco, you would understand). After troubleshooting, and finding out that DVD movies worked on my system, he informed me that the system was done for. It would need to be sent in for repairs.

“Please note Mr. Jensen that the unit will be labeled as ‘unserviceable’ if it has been opened or tampered with in anyway upon our receipt of the unit.” I missed a comma or two because, well, so did he. Emotionless, he was.

“Oh no!” I thought. I bought this unit refurbished through a retailer other than Sony, with a 90-day warranty. My 90 days were up. This retailer definitely tampered with the system as he performed his own repairs. Yes, my system was done for. Even a full restore of the corrupted data did nothing. One minute into Fat Princess or Super-Sonic Acrobatic Rocket-Powered Battle Cars? FREEZE. DEATH. DESTRUCTION. DEMISE.

I must carry on. That’s how my PS3 would have wanted it. There was no time to mourn. I must purchase another unit. But this one would be new. Once bitten, twice shy with the refurbished Playstation.

Off to Wal-Mart. They would undoubtedly have one, and they are open 24 hours a day. It’s about 7:30 AM at this time.

None.

Target? They open at 9. Zero; I glare into the empty case, price tags strewn about within. The glass case was accessorized with a stack of rain check fill-out forms, screaming, “WE WON’T HAVE ANY FOR A LONG TIME!” into my ears. It was a piercing sound, jabbing at me.

I stood, peering into the glass case, thinking of electronics stores. It was 9:10.

"BEST BUY! I look up their number on my trusty Blackberry, for surely a store which specializes in electronics would carry the treasure I seek. I was wrong. After a five-minute hold with the sales clerk, I was sadly informed that help was not 10 minutes away.

Maybe Circuit C- what am I talking about?! I worked there right before they went under (what a sweet day that was, in my vengeful heart). I knew that wasn’t an option. It was 9:20.

GameStop, the 7-11 of video games, with a store on seemingly every corner, was bound to have one. But they don’t open for 40 minutes.

Oh well, you’ve waited this long.

I park outside of the store and wait. The manager walks up to the door at 9:45, and, to save time, I ask him if he has any in stock that he can recall.

“I don’t know, I’ll hafta check,” he said, annoyed. Really, though, what GameStop manager isn’t annoyed?

He never came out to let me know. I went in once he unlocked the doors at 10:00, and he had a plethora of them. He just wanted to be a lazy ass. That’s okay, for I know how to piss off a GameStop employee. When they begin to offer you extra items, simply interrupt each one with a stern, lifeless, “Nope.” The look of hatred towards the world on his face increases to the point where you needn’t question his thoughts; he is pissed.

“Would you like to buy the ext-“

“Nope.”

“How about a dual shock con-“

“Nope.”

“Are there any pre-orders that you’re intere-“

“Not a one.”

I may be an ass sometimes, but when I am, I’m usually just fighting fire with fire.

I leave with my brand new, 120 GB PS3 slim. The horrible events have come to an end. Was this Karma biting me in the ass for choosing to delay my responsibilities by calling late into work? I ended up not playing the game until 10:30 AM anyway, despite my attempts, except it cost me $300 this route. Was it inevitable, and going to break no matter what time I picked up my copy of Final Fantasy XIII? The realist will, of course, say “Yes, it was inevitable.” But I’m the type who is on the fence when it comes to fate, destiny, and such. All I knew for certain was the fact that I had a lengthy game to play.

Cheeze-Its.

Dr. Pepper.

Lights out.

New game.

__________________________________________

Requiem: Farewell to a Rock

I doubted your importance for over two years. I played your much older brother, the original Playstation, and never owned your slightly older brother, the PS2, though I did play it often (and I mean often) at various friends’ houses. I had a very powerful PC, and thought I was content with the gaming experience it provided.

However, since 2006, you beckoned me in the background. “I am a console, media center, and a Blu-ray player.” But you were priced as such. I couldn’t do it. Once the slims rolled out, in 2009, thus reducing the prices of all fatties, I could no longer resist. $200 for a backwards compatible console, media center, and Blu-ray player? How can one pass that up?!

I bought you.

What a great decision it turned out to be! My best purchases have been White Knight Chronicles, Heavy Rain, Dragon Age: Origins, Madden 2010, NCAA Football 2010, and now Final Fantasy XIII, along with an array of downloaded titles.

You served me well. If I had a bad day at work, or was in a fight with someone, you always helped me unwind. I did not know you that long, my friend, but I know that you lived a good life, having been produced in 2007. From your very inception, to your refurbishment. From there, to my home. Through the Leap Year of Death, unscathed.

I don’t care what anyone outside of gaming has to say – video games are meant to provide people with an escape from a reality which can be dark, stressful, and… well, downright inescapable.

Peace to you, my friend. You have been replaced, but the months of escape you provided me will not be forgotten.