- You are amazed at how many verbs this game has.
- You tell your friends you can’t help them move because most of their furniture is scenery.
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Whenever you think something important might be happening, you stand still and wait repeatedly.
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Sometime you try kissing somone just to see what happens and then regret not being able to undo.
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Whenever you’re making a cup of tea, you mess up one of the fiddly steps and have to start all over again.
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Strangers are there to be interrogated about plot-relevant subjects, and so you often find yourself questioning people in the street about your career.
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You can only see on bookshelves those books that you expect to find.
(I do actually find myself using ‘examine’ and cardinal directions a lot more nowadays.)
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You are angry at the developer because, say, before an important work/life happening, you cannot save.
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You are angry at the developer because, say, after an important work/life happening you screwed up, you can’t restore.
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You are quite free to swear, as such a language is good for you that are NOT a real adventurer.
- Showers are nonessential but might net you some bonus points.
- Occasionally your friends spot you attempting to walk through walls, or go in directions that don’t exist, or eat inedible objects. When asked why, you say, ‘Just playtesting.’
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You couldn’t handle living in a house that had more than one door on the same wall.
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You essentially feel like a disembodied self, but this is no cause for psychological alarm.
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You never refer to individual body parts, even outside of polite company.
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You wouldn’t hesitate to go to great lengths to procure things for strangers who have made vague promises.
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The Second Person perspective feels most natural and you’re unsure why more literature doesn’t employ it.
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You start to cry if you see a sign for a maze.
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You cry even harder if you’re told you can see nothing special.
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You discard your car keys on the ground to pick up a thimble, knowing full well your keys will still be there later.
- You fear nothing. Sticks and stones may break your bones, guns may kill you, bombs may tear you apart - but your belief in the UNDO command will save you every time.
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You start calling regular books ‘Static Fiction’.
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You begin noticing how few verbs are implemented in graphical games.
- You’ll pick up anything off the ground that could come in improbably handy, like sticks, rocks, sooty rods, bits of gum, old receipts, used-up matchbooks, etc.
EDITED TO ADD:
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You eat every meal, without utensils, in a single act. Nobody knows exactly what that single act looks like, because they’re too busy shielding their faces…
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Also, you can drain any drink in two or three swigs, max.
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You get very trepidatious at a bar, watching all the drinks’ contents be brought into scope and then removed from play, then re-introduced into scope again. How unhygienic!
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Even worse, though, is watching a series of shots being pre-poured, hoping that you aren’t around when an upper limit for an arbitrary multiple instances of the same object is met.
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You don’t like to partake of any experience lacking credited beta-testers.
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You have a plan for what you would do if the butter knife at your breakfast ever began glowing blue.
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Sometimes you re-enter rooms where you have established there’s nothing interesting, just on the off chance that something you did elsewhere triggered the revealing of something new.
- You always ask people to elaborate further on every noun they ever mention, until they become repetitive, non-responsive, or so upset they don’t want to talk to you anymore – and that’s how you know it’s time to move on.
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Liquids and their containment and interaction are a source of wonder and envy.
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When you reach a difficult problem, eventually you just start shouting random verbs at it in the hopes that it’s a guess-the-verb puzzle.
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You say “Zzz…” whenever you have to wait.
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You wish conversations in real life were menu-driven instead of open-ended.
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Whenever you visit someone’s house, you open every door you can find, even if they are watching you.
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You tend to be late, because time doesn’t actually stop until your next action.
Yeah, the other thing I was thinking of was My Worst Day WWII, in which you spend most of your time breathing hard and slogging through the snow, usually concluding by getting shot by a German sniper from a pillbox on a distant hill that you never even saw, or dying in a sudden, unexpected close-quarters firefight because you can’t aim properly because your heart-rate’s so high from running through the snow because walking is so damn slow. (The final word on realism in videogames, of course, has to go to The Onion.)
- You don’t fit in with any social group, because normal people think you’re a geek or a nerd, and geeks think you’re either a clueless newb or an elitist literary snob.
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when you’re packing, you think it’s kind of lame that your bag is not a holdall. Inventory management puzzles, seriously?
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you find awkward silences all the more awkward because there is no “topics” command.
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you sometimes both ASK and TELL somebody about something to see if you get a different response.
- When unlocking your front door, you whisper “with the front door key”. When your friends and family point out that you are weird, you make a mental rule to do nothing when you feel an urge to clarify what you are unlocking the front door with, which neatly solves the problem.