Skyrim Diary: Sven the Dragon Molester
I’ve played many video games in my life and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that matches the scale or immensity of Skyrim. I’ve only racked up 3 to 4 hours thus far but I can already feel the tenseness forming in my arsecheeks just thinking about what else lies in wait - oh, about 300 more hours of Skyrim to go? No biggie.
In hindsight, in the excitement of wanting to jump into the thick of it, I might’ve made the mistake of rushing through the character creation step. I ended up settling for the default Nord race and christening him with an uninspiring name (which shall remain unmentioned).
I had toyed with the token Norse-like, “woof-y” sounding names like Olaf, Thorsen, Gunther, Ole-Gunnar and such only to realize that I should’ve just named it Sven Goran (Erikssen). It would’ve been perfect: chaotic good alignment, thieving brigand with a wavering moral compass? Juxtaposed against that infamous Swedish coach who’s consistently thieved his way to fat paycheques from top football clubs - sign contract, run team to the ground, collect severance fee?
Oh well. Guess I’m stuck with a burly Billy Corgan lookalike for now. From what I’ve seen so far, my Skyrim character’s diary would read:
- Took a nap at an inn - is 10 gold per night a good deal?
- Oooh, lots of wenches!
- Had trouble finding Whiterun. That’s the last time I decide to go town-hopping in the middle of the night - it’s difficult to read roadsigns in the moonlight.
- Fuck you, dire wolves, pouncing at me from behind bushes.
- Wait, why are wolves packing gold and pants?
- Watched a tutorial on how to steal in Skyrim. It involves putting buckets on NPC’s heads.
- Oh wait, I just discovered that I’m anti-dragon. But I like dragons!
- Alchemy? Pfft. Necromancy is where the party be at.
