Drifting off to sleep for approximately 6.5 winks has become a regulatory theme for me, largely part to my newly acquired senility, which is considerably problematic. Not because it punctuates continuity or that my character remains as stationary as a detected spider trying to cross the living room carpet, but because of the superfluous progression I make while idle. I often attempt to extend my evenings beyond sensibly recommended passage of time, as such my vacant listlessness presents a lucid cacophony of vivid monochromatic imagery and new dimensional immersion into whatever game I fell asleep playing. While my physical self diminishes into interim dormancy, with my chin resting on my chest, shoulders hunched, hands clasped around the clammy controller, girlfriend shaking her head in disconcerted irritation my mind is active, alert, continuing where my conscious self left off. I attempt to make full use of my lucidity by amending any arrears that have risen through my passive absence. For instance while playing The Witcher 3 I inevitably drifted into a state of riposte, whereby I attempted accumulate funds through the exchange of harvested materials and amenities derived from the vanquished corpses of droopy boobed aquatic wenches. I knew I was dreaming, yet I felt inexplicably linked to my PS4.
Shorn of consciousness I was determined to veer stridently into the verbose disillusions that rippled with such earnest placation. The flourishing world appeared so accepting of me, submissive to my lingering poverty that I had sustained through the negligent restoration of my weapons. I was now trotting through pristine verges with a huge, vascular stallion between my legs (Oh grow up you!). The extraneous pastures that ordinarily housed some subverted vagrant were now replete with an array of continually spawning treasures, to which I plundered with succinct glee for my own affluent leverage. Even though my horse was fully laden I still found time to indulge in alternate “activities” with my concubine, Yennifer, if you know what I mean? *wink, nudge, wink*. Even detained in the custodial prison of my mind it’s still exhausting going “at it” for such an extended period of time. Going back and forth, in and out, shuffling and posturing with no protection! But I needn’t tell you how addictive Gwent is. Of course I was riding on the back of a unicorn, naked! But being steeped in the vestigial activities of variable commodities that has allowed me to achieve so much were sadly figments of unconsciousness. Realising the futility of my ethereal clemency was incredibly deflating. It also doesn’t help that your lids are roused out of their slumberous embrace by the familiar blow to the back of my head, from an agitated girlfriend who had begun tapping her foot and shaking her finger like Sonic the hedgehog.
Even once your addled mind has adjusted to the municipal evocation of reality and ocular synchronism has been stabilised, seemingly watching from afar as Geralt responds to your arrival with continued stoic resolve, your instantly aware of your brief convalescence as though you’ve just hit pause in your mind, instantly reactive to your previous contingencies and continue gaming. And in that pithy euphoric moment before you recognise that your assured capacity for discovering ample wealth and owning Yennifer over and over again (in Gwent) that all your versatile solutions and gathered provisions were simply falsified depictions of the game. All that hard work accumulating honey combs to sell to a sugar loving vendor is now absent, resulting in 2 hour-long vacuity. And a nasty headache where my girlfriend hit me over the head for nodding off again!
How often do you fall asleep while gaming? Let me hear about your unconscious gaming experiences. Cheers.