Stranger Danger

That's my Blade and Soul character up there, showing of the new outfit Jeff Bezos gave her. Generous Jeff we call him around here, as well we should. 

Jeff handed out a bunch of stuff today. There was the Velvet Rope outfit on the left, suitable for any red carpet premiere event, especially when accessorized by the Velvet Rope Accessory on the right. He threw in a whole bunch of upgrade materials and buffs and suchlike, too, although I think those may have been from last month. I have nearly two dozen unclaimed gift packs in my mailbox, most of which I daren't open for fear of overwhelming my inventory.

On that thorny and hoary topic, as I was checking just how much space I had, I was surprised to find I could buy several more rows of inventory for a small amount of in-game currency, eight slots for just six silver, then another eight for a further twenty-four. 

I'm fairly sure this is new for the simple reason that I would have already bought them if wasn't. If there's one thing I never begrudge paying imaginary money for it's bag slots. I'm just sorry I had to stop at two rows. The cost ramped up heavily at the third, jumping from a few silver to over a gold. Since I've only managed to accumulate a couple of gold in all the time I've been playing that seemed like an offer I ought to refuse. For now.

I was less impressed with what Jeff had for me in Guild Wars 2, although I'm sure many would find it useful. Even the name sounds utilitarian: Convenience Set. After a bit of a struggle I got it open and out popped a whole bunch of the kind of things that already take up space in my bank. Too useful to throw away, not useful enough to, y'know, use.

Those were just the mini-gifts, anyway. Fluff and fancies. The trinkets that fly out of the cracker before you get down to the serious present-opening. Only at Jeff's house it's Christmas every month.

This April, Amazon Prime has five games to give away. I took four of them and politely declined the fifth. Whether I'll ever install them, let alone play them, is another matter. 

The one I was certain I'd never need (Or want.) was something called Turnip Boy Commits Tax Evasion. Every single thing about that title raises red flags for me. Turnips are not amusing vegetables and anyone who thinks they are does not have a sense of humor. "Turnip Boy" is not an amusing parody of a superhero name and ditto. Tax Evasion is morally reprehensible. 

Other opinions are available but I refuse to be swayed. As the extraneous "u" in the claim that "this is a very specific brand of humour" suggests, it's a humo[u]r that appeals to a particular, self-identifying group. They know who they are and I know I am not one of them. 

Okay, I realize my having included a Bonzos' track from the mid-60s in yesterday's post severely undermines my authority here but dammit I am not one of those people!

Moving swiftly on, the other four games are three flavors of RPG ("Turn-based", "Puzzle" and "Indie".) and yet another bloody Monkey Island adventure. Seriously, how many of these things did they make? However many it was, I assume Amazon plan to throw the lot at us. I guess I'll keep taking them but I don't expect to play all of them. Or possibly any.

This one ("Monkey Island 2 Special Edition".) does at least look newer than the rest. Maybe it's a remake or whatever they call it. The others (Guild of Ascension, NanoTale -Typing Chronicles and Galaxy of Pen and Paper.) all look considerably more interesting. They're also all meta in one way or another. I do like a bit of thematic unity. I might actually try all three of them, one day.

And that's it. Except it's not.

If I hadn't happened to have read it somewhere (I think it was on NME.com.) I might have missed this month's Big Ticket Feature. It's not even mentioned on my Amazon Games page. It only appears if you click through to the "In-game content" section where all the stuff at the start of the post lives.

This month, if you're an Amazon Prime subscriber, you can have The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion for free. I know it's been around a while and eveyone who ever wanted it probably has it already but still, you'd think they might have made a bit more of it.

Then again, it does only cost £4.49 at GOG.com, which is where the link takes you if you decide to have it. Given that the cheapest of the other games this month clock in at three times that much, I guess it's not that big a deal after all.

I don't own it, though, and I've never played it. I don't like Elder Scrolls games much. Even for free, I
probably wouldn't have bothered making a GOG account just for this but as it happens I already have one... and it still works. So now, I, too, own Oblivion, like every other person who'll ever read this.

That means I have 91 games in my Amazon Games Library. That's fifteen more than I own on Steam, where, paradoxically, I own two more Amazon titles, New World and Lost Ark. There was a time when Sony Online Entertainment catered for nearly all of my gaming needs. If things go on like this, pretty soon that'll be Amazon.

I bet that's just what Jeff wants, too. One minute you're petting the puppies, the next you're in the van. That's an analogy, by the way. I'm not sugesting there really is a van. Or any puppies for that matter. There are never any puppies.

D'you know what? I have a personal anecdote about that and this post's running a bit short so I'm going to share. When I was maybe nine or ten years old, I was at a village fete not too far from where I lived. I was wandering around with my cousin (I think it was.) and we were on our own because it was the 1960s and no-one cared about stuff like that back then.

Some guy came up to us and asked us if we wanted to see some puppies. We were nine (Or ten.) Of course we wanted to see some puppies. He said to come with him so we did. 

He led us off towards the trees at the edge of the field, out of sight behind some parked vehicles. He had a van there.

And some puppies. He really did have puppies. He was trying to sell them. We played with them for a while, then we went back and found whatever adults we were nominally with and said there was a man who had some puppies in a van and could we? 

No we couldn't. And that was that. No-one told us we'd done anything we shouldn't have done. No-one ever mentioned it again. 

I told you. It was the sixties. No-one cared.

It taught me one thing that I've always remembered, though. 

Sometimes there really are puppies.