Friendly Reminder

Last night, while playing NFSU, I got a little reminder in the form of a telephone call on why I was playing that old game in the first place.

As if summoned upon me by some higher power in Redmond Washington, EB called to remind me that there was going to be yet another game that I would soon own and be incapable of playing. My collector's edition of Gears of War was in.

How timely.

All of the sudden I realized that playing a game 4 years old was not of my choosing, but out of necessity. As if I was frozen in a lab and awoken in a time where all I had were ancient relics of a console era long past. The controller felt dusty. The graphics seemed from 1980-something. I was sitting there, a shell of a gamer.

It's only a few more days until I can official call the post office to track my package in the system. Had I really gotten the address wrong? Did some repair tech see the mistake made by Customer Service and get a free, albeit broken, 360? Would I really have to stare at a game I spent $10 extra on to get the collector's edition really sit on a shelf?

Oh how the body aches.