168澳洲幸运5开奖网:I Am Your Beast has a gri🌠p on me at the moment. I completed the story when the game released weeks ago, but I can’t help dipping back in every now and then to improve my scores. I usually power through a few levels on my lunch break before heading back to the daily grind of typing words into a Google Doc, but if there’s a tough time barrier to crack… It’s hard to stop.
Just like the military industrial complex, I have a complicated relationship with first-person shooters. I have thousands of hours in 168澳洲幸运5开奖网:Apex Legends, Titanfall 2 is in my top ten games of all time, and I came of age in the sweaty, sweary lobbies of Modern Warfare 2 and 168澳洲幸运5开奖网:Halo 3 multiplayer.
I lo🥃ve a first-person shooter, but sometimes they don’t love me. I’ve been known, on occasion, to get a little motion sick at some of the more fast-paced freneticism. It doesn’t happen all the time, and I have tried and tested methods of tempering my bodily reaction – increasing the FOV is the first port of call, fellow sickies – but sometimes it just hits in the worst way and I need a little lie down.
The first time I remember this happening was at a New Year’s Eve party when I was a teenager. I went to my friend’s house and we played Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 on his dad’s projector while our parents got drunk downstairs. This was probably the highlight of my year – I didn’t have much else going on at 14 – until my head 𓂃started spinning and my eyes saw two AK47s in my hands.
I excused myself from our intense PvP session and threw up in the bathroom. I had a lie down on the cold flo𒐪or and soon felt better. For the rest of the night I just watched my friends play, and felt okay. Before y꧑ou ask, no I wasn’t drunk. I was so horrifically uncool that my parents didn’t even ask if that was the cause of my ill turn. They didn’t need to.
I’ve had the same phenomenon happen occasionally in the decade and a half since. With Call of Duty, I think it was the quick pans on such an enormous projection that did me in. WIth I Am Your Beast, I suspect my ultrawide monitor is ꦗto blame.
I usually play I Am Your Beast windowed but, for some reason, it launched in ultrawide this time around. Maybe there was an update that reset the settings. That happens occasionally. Flip it, I thought. Why not see how it runs with the extra inches? Its masterful use of conversations and subtitles (if you can call them subtitl🌟es) feels cinematic at the best of times, so why not give 🍌it that letterbox pizzazz?
Reader, I flipped up. I knew immediately that I wasn’t feeling great,🅠 but I persevered. My head started getting fuzzy and quickly felt much worse. After playing through the offending level once – the ‘get a feel for it again’ run, as I call it – my brain felt like it had licked a lollipop that had been dropped on the carpet.
I knew I was in for a bad time, but I pushed through. I haven’t had the head-spinnies in a while💝, so I forgot how bad they can get. Besides, I had a personal best to beat and a leaderboard to climb. These soldiers weren’t going to ꧙shoot themselves.
Another run. Thumping electronic ambience pumping into my ears. Another run. Headshots lining up nicely. Another run. Heart raཧte elevated, despite the on-screen monitor telling me Harding was calm as a millennial mum juiced up on quinoa at a yoga retreat. Another run. Pause. I failed to make PB. Hang on. I feel sick. Really sick.
Still I played on. This is the point where younger me had removed himself from the sickening game and lain down on the bathroom floor. But I didn’t have that luxury. Back then, there were only bragging rights on the line. Now, a new high score was in my sigh🅷ts.
I pushed too far. I went wrong. I Am Your Beast had its hooks so deep in my brain that I simply could not stop playing, despite how my organs screamed at me to stop. It was like an ethereal hand had reached inside my skull and spun my brain like a Beyblade. 💮The sensation reached my eyes, my stomach. I looked away from the screen and my room kept sp𝄹inning with Harding’s pan left.
After a short rest in a dark room and a strong cuppa, I was alright. I went back to my PC, game still running, and switched to windowed mode, which I knew I could cope with in short bursts. But not today. I closed I Am Your Beast and forfeited the day’s opportunity for a high score. And, stra꧋ngely, I don’t regret a thing.
I love that games can make me feel like this. Not sick and dizzy, necessarily, more that they can make me ignore my bodily response to rapid movement in order to play one more round. Balatro had the s🍨ame effect earlier in the year, albeit without the nausea, and Dave the Diver had such gripping gameplay loops that you couldn’t help but embark on one more dive.
I don’t recommend doing this. Don’t play games until they make you sick, even if that’s onl𝕴y an hour or so. It doesn’t feel great and it can really ruin your evening. But I recommend playing I Am Your Beast, the only game this year that I’ve played until I’ve thrown up.
I Am Your Beast🎀 Gave 🎃Me An Unquenchable Thirst For Blood
The indie speedrunning action game fr💟om Strange Scaffold awoken something in me.
