So. I like games. That's probably fairly evident
to anyone who's spent any time poking around on this website. It's
even more evident to anyone who's spent any time at my house; the
first comment most first-time visitors make goes something like,
"Holy crap, that's a lot of games!" Depending on how well they know
me, I may point out that they're in alphabetical order. Or not.
A little poking on this site will show you a ramble I wrote
earlier, The Great Game Sale
, where I
professed to be over the addiction of buying games. I was happily
selling off my collection (except for a few "prized" games, of
course), and all was right in the world.
Since then, I've bought back pretty much every game I sold. I've
realised that buying games is no more an addiction for me than,
say, breathing or eating. Like those actions, it does me more good
than harm (except, obviously, when done to excess); also like those
actions, I seriously doubt I could live without games for any
extended period of time. If nothing else, at some point in my life
I can open up a museum of classic games. When all of these
Playstation and Playstation 2 games become, you know, classic. All
of that reasoning is pretty much irrelevant, though. I just
games. They give me warm and fuzzy feelings.
So. I'm not selling games. I'm still buying them. And I have a nice
list of "every game I own." That is, of course, a gross misnomer.
It doesn't list any PC games, mainly because that would be a
thankless task. Do I list every Ultima
in my Ultima
separately? What about stuff on floppies that are
buried deep in the bowels of my parents' attic? No, the list is far
from complete. It doesn't even list all of my console games; I
never got around to dragging my Atari 7800 out of its box and
cataloguing all of the titles I own. (At least I'm honest. The
filename is gamelist.raw.incomplete
Nonetheless, I have made a rigid ritual of entering new games as I
purchaes them. I don't even allow myself to put them into their
proper console unless I've entered them into the canonical text
file, and since I have a "test everything immediately after
purchase" fetish, it works well for keeping the list as up-to-date
And, every once in a while, I do a quick wc -l
and see just
how many games I have in the list.
A couple of weeks ago, I realised I was getting dangerously close
to the four-digit mark. One thousand console games, give or take.
As people say, "Holy crap, that's a lot of games."
I thought heavily on what I wanted to get for the thousandth game.
I figured it should be something special, a sort of keystone to the
collection, indicative of my favourite genres, favourite
that I could look back on and say,
"Yeah, that's a good thousandth game. That really says what it's
all about." Whatever it
I spent hours scouring websites looking for new releases, old
releases, anything that would fit. I hit up NCSX and considered old
Japanese games that caught my interest years ago, when I didn't
have money to waste on frivolities like imports, but nothing seemed
special enough. Nothing jumped out at me and said, "I should be
your thousandth game!" Sure, Paper Mario 2
would be a good
choice, but it's not coming out for a bit, and who wants a sequel
to be their keystone anyway?
I thought and thought. An RPG? A tactical RPG? Definitely something
in that field. Square? Already own all the ones brought over here,
and imports don't really speak "thousandth game" to me. Yes, I have
my share of them, but the vast majority of my collection consists
of American releases. So. An American RPG. Damn shame I pretty much
own every one released here since Beyond the Beyond
Playstation, and those I don't own (Panzer Dragoon Saga
. -sigh-) I still can't afford.
I brought the collection up to #999 (XIII
for the Xbox, if
you're curious) and ground to a halt. The next game I bought would
have to be the
which summed up my thoughts on gaming and put them in a DVD-style
I thought and thought.
I realised: there is no such title. No one game could possibly sum
up my taste in games, my taste in life, my experiences with blips
and bloops and angled controllers and text that scrolls TOO DAMN
SLOW and stupid-looking guys who jump from platforms magically
suspended in midair and long expositions mauled by bad English
translations and long expositions that suck even with good English
translations and spaceships blowing up other spaceships because,
well, just because and people moving around on square grids and
and Final Fantasy
and, and, and .
Besides, what the hell is game number one thousand anyway? The
count's already off; I have hundreds and hundreds of PC games not
listed, at least twenty Atari games that are missing, and . . .
it's just a number.
(I'm at #1009, as I write this article. Game number one thousand
was bought on an impulse at a local Sam's Club, while I was waiting
around while the rest of the family browsed the aisles. It's as
representative of my collection as any game would be, which is to
say not terribly representative at all.
If you're absolutely dead-set on finding out what the game is, view
the page source. It's right about . . . here.
It really doesn't matter, though. Indeed, I think you'd rather not
know. Pretend it is
that ultimate game, the one which
symbolises the rest.)
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