Why Did We Stop Playing?

I remember the days; high rights, low lefts even-stevens and fades.

I had a very specific way I needed to play Until Dawn: with actual humans in the room, actual friends butts in chairs / on sofas, actually present. Horror movies are meant to be seen with people you can scream with, hide with and with whom you can share sage advice (don't go in there HE'S BEHIND THE DOOR!). The same holds true for me with Horror games.

But remember when all games were like that? Remember the days of a room filled with your folk and the circus of advice, support and ridicule you'd endured? Junk food being we forced into our growing guts, jones soda and jolt to keep us awake (we used lipton brisk ice tea because it was smooth enough to drink in under five seconds, one can, and had the caffeine count of two cups of coffee. Health).  

Gaming was a social thing, despite what the mid-late nineties PSA garbage would have you believe.

SIDE NOTE: I remember this ad. It was ridiculous for so many reasons, never mind the phallic demon head near the guys dick. Games make you not want your smokin' hot significant other? Have you met a gamer? Do you know how horny we are? What do you think we think about all day? Answer: sex and killin' goblins...Sometimes sex goblins (ps I googled sex-goblin. RIP search history).

I looked forward to Street Fighter, Mortal Kombat, Resident Evil and Final Fantasy 7 with the boys more than damn near anything we would do. And it wasn't like those were all co-op games! Especially Final Fantasy 7! Its an epic RPG that made grown ass men cry, yet we shared that pain together. A band of brothers bonding over pixelated trauma (RIP Aeris...cause her name was NOT Aerith at the time). 

When and why did the switch happen?

I know it was a quiet change and was due to convenience. I know that more people own systems now than when I was but my early teens. I can see and experience the benefits of remote online play with your crew, but it is just not the same.

The switch happened because it's easy to pop on a system, see that Allen is online playing something you both like and drop in and out of the game as you see fit. There's far less responsibility to keep it going. You don't kill the game for Allen if you drop out at some point.

It comes down to the energy of the room for me. I can remember the times I've played online with friends who weren't physically present in the room. But I couldn't tell you specifics beyond what probably happened in-game. 

I've got a library of vivid memories of entire gaming days with the
crew. Lan parties and the carcinogenic smell of burning dust on monitors. The taste of taco-bell grande meals and entire cases of grape soda laid low in the span of a single day. Jokes and insults and high-fives and don't even get me started on the social experiment that was the arcade!

Both are good, but like any live activity, gaming is made better by sharing the experience with your folk. It's a story you now directly share with another person, thus creating a bond that could bridge some social gap, especially if one of you isn't necessarily a gamer (example: a couple where one is and one isn't said gamer. Cliches are great!). It opens a dialogue, usually of things not game related that were inspired by the content or even just the visceral experience of sharing a something with a someone.

I had to play this game with my best friend because it wouldn't have been as fun or memorable without her, and because I flat out wanted to.

A part of me craves those days of sitting and gaming with friends. It is what hooked me on games more than the games themselves.

I've mentioned dealing with depression. This helped me deal as a kid, teen and adult when it felt like I was alone in a room packed with people. It was an easy way to get close to others and stumble in to territory we would have otherwise not discussed. From sex to strength to human rights to advertising to violence and so on and so forth. Nothing was off limits because, in a way, we were experiencing these things via our chosen activity. And because video games cover such a broad spectrum of topics and genre and so on, we were never in short supply of conversational fuel.

It ends up being the same question that people ask about being physical: why did we stop playing?

I love technology and do almost everything on the internet because that's how the world is wired, for the most part. But I think I'm finally seeing the disconnect first-hand and I'm seeing it in video games, of all places! Don't get me wrong, I've watched it for some time in our general society, I'm not blind, I just thought that games were safe. It's ignorant, I know. It's flat out close minded and a tad stupid of me to think that. I admit it. I'm growing.

Story time: I didn't sleep but two hours last night. I had some severe anxiety and the ol gray matter wouldn't rest. It happens. When it happens I get lonely. My depression manifests as loneliness first, followed by self-worth usually with my eye judgmentally on my physical self. I went on to my various social media outlets to calm down and find connection, like a grand number of folk do, but I didn't feel connected by the end. Sure felt lonelier though. Imagine being a fisherman who casts their line, again and again, but no bounty is brought home. It starves you emotionally. Even when I get to talk to my folk in the late AM via messenger or text and so on, it doesn't feel the same as feeding on their energy, sharing the experience in the physical world.

DISCLAIMER: I love the internet and tech and I'm not attacking it. If it works for you: you do you. This is about me. There. Ass official covered.

It was so important to me that I play this game with my people physically there because I can't keep being sad or lonely and finding a temporary bandage in my activities alone. I am a social creature, and while I don't believe in finding your full happiness solely in another person, emotional healing is made far easier by sharing, commiserating, laughing and so on with another human. So, Kindell (Jesus Feist), I love you and can't wait to play more of this. It was so much fun and meant so much to me.

ADVICE: Are you a gamer who wants to share gaming, a thing you love, with a friend, family member or Boo (a person you love)? Try presenting it as a movie like experience and discus it with them. They may or may not want to play, but they might want to learn or experience it all the same. Make it a social activity that can open up new dialogue between you. It doesn't need to be deep, it can just be about how pretty the game is, which leads you to talking about hiking perhaps, then a day doing something the other person might call their wheel house. Maybe they do find they want to play! Then you've got a homie to game with! Maybe you play something like Journey or The Last of Us and a dialogue about loss and the future opens. You've got options!

My point falls where it usually does: be passionate about your passions (best sentence ever), and share with another person not just the single aspect of said passion (killing it, sentence gods). Share with them everything, dig deeper and find meaning, find common ground, work to understand one another via your afore mentioned passions (mic drop, word smith, rap god).

Deep or shallow, the things we love will bring us all closer together. It's through curiosity and questioning that we can bridge gaps, through the sharing of and listening to our various passions that we can allow others to learn, and through learning about the people around us that the world gets smaller, more intimate, less scary and far more rich. Give yourself and your people the opportunity to understand you, and have the patience and love to help them understand where you're coming from.

Take the time to share, listen and learn.

Have the best day you've ever had.

First Rule of River Club

An attractive, dare I say: beautiful, young woman crossed my path as I returned to my apartment this morning. I was smiling. She my way, our eyes met and then she smiled. Did I hold some sort of gravity as I strode home? Perhaps my positive demeanor caught her attention and she mused: Perhaps this is a man that I could chat to?

Reality: I was, and still am, wearing sweats that are all the same color. Top and bottom and beanie. Reality: I carried and have now consumed the contents of a Starbucks take-away bag. I was also drinking a double-shot in a to-go cup.  Reality: I was wearing sunglasses and Nike trainers while walking with a goofy swagger. Reality: I looked like a big douche-bag. Reality: She wasn't smiling with you, honey, she was giggling at you.

Still, I brought some people joy this morning. 

The following story has nothing to do with any of that.

Full Disclosure: I spent 15 minutes trying to find the perfect picture for the above photo. My favorite search was "wearing all grey sweatpants Starbucks douche." Kanye and Chris Brown showed up. I am satisfied. 

I had 4 great friends when I was a kid. I feel like everyone does. They were my band of brothers, the go anywhere/do anything crew. There was Andy, Joey, Dane and Ryan. I've known these boys since before kindergarten (Ryan) and at the latest fourth grade (Dane). This story is about Dane.

Every year my family and I would go on a fishing trip to the Metolius river, specifically to Lake Billy Chinook near Madras, Oregon. Usually it was just me and the folks and maybe a friend would tag along. One memorable year it was damn near the whole crew, me and my family and Ryan and Dane.

As young boys are genetically predisposed to being idiots: we did just that, and we did it well, by God. We were loud, we were insulting to every ear that would shelter our inane 16 year old banter, we were visually offensive by very accurately translating our dick and shit jokes into pantomime. As far as traditional adolescent dickery is concerned: We were tops. 

Now, I say that to say this: By the end of this trip, we were going to, actually going to murder Dane for crimes against his own. In a team of irritating testosterone and misguided energy, he simply came out as king. 

I'll skip to the good parts. Imagine that you've spent the past two days in the close quarters of a standard sedan and a one room hotel accommodation while in a record high for a desert town. Imagine you're clinically dehydrated, prone to heart attack and on your period. We'll go from there.

We typically rented one of two boats: a small silver fishing boat that cooked you not unlike the fish you were desperately trying to procure, or a platform pontoon boat (my personal choice). The pontoon boat not only allowed an awning for escape from the 105 degree sun sans cloud-cover, but provided a convenient escape from said heat and rays through a good ol' jump into the river. Provided you were able to get yourself back in the boat, of course...

Let me back up. 

My mother has a penchant for higher-ish end cosmetics. She is a woman of fine taste, even when it

comes to sun-screen. At some point we possessed, separately, a squirt-gun in the shape of a 44 magnum and a bottle of higher-ish end sun-screen. At some point, Dane had made combination of both of these items, creating something that Ryan and I found funny, though my parents were not as amused. At the time, a super-soaker that would quickly be recalled due to it's obvious sexual implications had been on the market. It was called the Ooze Blastin' Oozinator. Google it. The boys and I had talked about it a few times and thought it was high-comedy. We were right. So Dane took it upon himself to makeshift a version of it for our pleasure. I think the phrase: "I'm going to kill you," came out of my mother at some point. I'm 99% positive she would have, shuffling loose Dane from this our mortal coil, had the following retribution not been served via the universe and simple anatomy, physics and good old fashioned boyish insanity.

The boat threatened a great likeness to amateur porn thanks to Dane's liberal use of the squirt-gun. After a sound yelling, my father'd had enough and retired under the awning with my mother, the gun in hand. Most of the yelling came my way, as it should, as I was the one who was responsible as I was his son (fucking parental logic). Ryan and Dane had gotten more, but it was mostly my way. I was done with the whole trip at that point, eager to never suffer the likes of any form of irritation again. Dane continued to find things to press on to irk Ryan and me, as was our custom. And he did so brilliantly. He'd made songs we'd made up together become caustic. He was able to remove the joy, should he choose too, from any thing we shared and replace it with human shit. Years later he told me he did it on purpose to, and I quote: "Fuck with us." End quote. My temper was a bit more flared when I was young (I was an asshole), Ryan was the calmer one, but we were both done with Dane's shenanigans. It was at this time that Dane jumped into the river, and low we were presented with the afore-mentioned gift of petty retribution.

Dane now is a calm, beautiful man who takes his time to maintain his physical being through routine both cosmetic and functional. He is strong, hardworking and level-headed. Dane then was flabby, weak and loved to "act the fool." To play fair: we gave him far too much shit on the average, but times like this made it well deserved. 

With a low splash, Dane took to the river. He then attempted and failed to return to the flat of the boat via a rope that served as the only means of re-entrance. Which is a lie. There was also a removable step ladder and our basic assistance that could have served as means to return. They were unavailable. We laughed and taunted our friend about his lack of upper-body strength and inability to return to the dry side of things. He would attempt to hoist himself up, fail, and return to floating position. We would comment on carnivorous fish that in no way could live in our domestic environment. Dane feared such things and as such his irrational fear took over. Another attempt, another failure and another belt of ridicule, repeating this cycle for around fifteen minutes of PG Buffalo Bill-ing. My father was not pleased with our cruelty (or he was just sick of hearing us cackle and Dane bitch), so he forced us to help. We lowered the ladder and assisted our compatriot.

Splash.

No sooner had his feet touched the oddly comforting bristles of the deck did he dive back into the water. I look back fondly on this as his giving of the middle finger or restating intent to dominate the landscape of our friendship using his brand of ass-tactics. Then it repeated. We didn't want to hear my dad get irritated, so we helped him back in, saying: "If you go back in, we're not helping you," setting the new official rule: If you jump in, you have to get out under your own power. Ryan demonstrated this. I did not. I was a weak swimmer in my younger years and was irrationally afraid of drowning. I remained on the boat and acted as that guy does in a posse. You know the one. He stands beside and behind his more intimidating homies, ranting and raving about how the one who just offended his crew was about to get werked. That guy is a pussy. I was that guy. Back to Dane, who we had just finished lecturing about what I would come to think of as The First Rule of River Club. Ryan and I looked at one another, sharing a knowing glance and an unspoken: "It's gonna be okay from here on."

Splash. 

He was in again. A solid thirty minutes went by with Dane as another buoy banging against the hull. In no way did he learn anything, because lest we forget: teenage boys are actually insane. In that age, we do the same exact actions and expect alternate results. It's as if the rock will become sweet marzipan if we continue to bang our head against it. 

Eventually he did get in the boat, which impressed us. I'd like to think that it was that moment that lead to his clarified self in later years, that our darker intents had assisted in the tormenting and subsequent growth and change of an artist. It's not true and is, in fact, just boys being ripe anus's to one another, but it's a nice thought to have. It did, however, reinforce a simple rule that I hold true today: you are responsible for your own actions and consequences. The First Rule of River Club: If you're going to jump in, you damn sure need to be ready to accept the consequences. 

Needing and Getting

"I need..." is easily one of the most ill-used prompts for things that we usually really don't. I damn sure over-use it, and it's usually for q video game or a random item of some kind (more than likely a pair of fine-ass sneakers). Those are wants. Needs are actually incredibly simple, because we need only a handful of things as an animal species.

We, and by "we" I mean humans (homo sapiens, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human), need three things: sustenance, shelter and socialization. Our needs, yes, have modern adaptations, but they are still the same as any other creature on the planet (speaking very generally about mammals with pack/tribe mentality). In my quest for self-actualization (if, in fact, one can reach a level of such, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Self-actualization), I have "needed" so many things. So I decided to make a handy list that someone else, countless someones, had no doubt made before me. This is no guide to nutrition or lifestyle in terms of what you should do/eat/be etc. This is just a simple list of basic, no-frills needs.

I will also be including wants, because that shit is solid gold. All wants expressed here are mine. Enjoy.

Recognizing your needs V wants is huge. It will help you go from surviving to thriving (tm...by someone, I'm sure).

SUSTENANCE

NEED
Food and water. Pretty easy: your body needs fuel to run, and the worst thing you can do is deprive it of sweet, sweet sustenance. On the most basic, you need to fill that gut of yours with water and whatever your diet is. Do some diets promote healthier mind and body? Yes! But that's a completely different post. A good chunk of your need for water can be obtained through the food you eat if you have a proper assortment of greens, but most of us don't. I highly recommend learning to cook no matter what your diet is. It's fun (eventually and especially with people), usually healthier and it makes your wallet smile.

For water, I have to remind myself to hydrate constantly, which is stupid. I should just drink water because it is what most of my body is made of and is required to survive. To make it easier, I keep a 32oz contigo brand water-bottle next to me when I'm working/writing/arting and so on (http://www.gocontigo.com/water-bottles/). I make it as attractive as I can to trick myself into thinking it will be fun to drink from it: It's green (my favorite color), has a nifty grey top and has stickers of things I love on it. Weeeeee, water! Fun AND delicious! Really though, if you want to be anything (artist, athlete, banker, whatever), just remember to hydrate.

WANT
I hate water. I do. Well, I love swimming in it, and I love rain, and if I were a bender I'd be a water-bender, but as far as a drink goes: bored, next please. Tea is my jam, usually of the green variety, and my favorite is gyokuro matcha or a home made chai with real milk. I'm also a big fan of my sprits, and tend to favor whiskey, especially rye, with my current favorite being Bulleit Rye (http://www.bulleit.com/). I guarantee that I just originally tried it because all of my heroes liked whiskey of some kind, especially Frank Sinatra. I even brew my own beer (though only 1 out of three batches has been successful due to some unforeseen shite. You learn and grow, blah). I love beer. I like whiskey, but I love my beer. And my king pint was, is and will continue to be a good ol' Guinness (http://www.guinness-storehouse.com/en/Index.aspx).

Food? I love it all. If I had to pick one cuisine to stick with over all others for the rest of my life: Japanese. No question. It's perfect to me, from sushi to izakaya to snacks to beverages and so on and so on. I love Japan for many things, but food is #1. Cake. Also cake.

SHELTER

NEED
A home. Simple. Whatever it takes to have one, do it and get a place to hang your hat. I'm very lucky and have a good apartment in a decent part of Portland, which is a fairly chill town to begin with. A home provides safety and security and a much needed escape when times get shitty/real or when you just need down time. You already know this. The part that people don't talk about that much is the safety part, which has always been odd to me. I was always told that I needed a place to stay, but the need for a safe living area was never overly emphasized. It's all about location. I highly recommend getting a smaller place in a safe neighborhood well before I'd send someone to a shit-ball part of town with a swank condo, but that's just me. Whatever safety is to you (quiet neighborhood, city downtown, hustle and bustle or white picket-fence), seek that out and get it however you can.

Room mates are a funny thing. I typically prefer to live alone, but sometimes that's just not an option. When you are looking for your shelter, sometimes you need a few buddies or maybe randos to afford the one you want. Most people act like they're fine having room mates, or that they can share a place with just about anyone, but those most are really just some. We are still animals and we are territorial as all hell. If you don't jibe with someone, get yourself or kick them the fuck out. It's that simple. When I hear people complain about their roomies, I'm always curious as to why they don't do the latter or the former. I'm usually met with some version of "I can't afford to move out," which could be true, yes, but is more than likely bullshit. You're afraid. Been there, know how you feel and it sucks, but the only thing to be afraid of in that situation is not being honest and staying mired in human shit. Live where and with whom you actually want. In the case of room mates, want is a need in my opinion.

WANT
I see myself in something of a craftsman home with heavy Japanese architecture elements. Clean, efficient, maybe two stories but definitely open. Lately I've been musing about the container home (https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=container+home&FORM=HDRSC2) as being a part of it. I want it to be surrounded by green, with fig and Japanese cherry trees. I want a Japanese bath and a stone shower inside, a bamboo shower outside and a hot-spring of sorts. A dance studio is a must. Really, a space that can be used to train dance, martial arts and can be used for gatherings wins. I can see having the "dojo" double as a movie/gaming room, but usually I like to have training rooms remain that, and have a second space, the living room, be where I keep my big-ass tv and various gaming rigs. Most importantly, I need a large kitchen to entertain from and stretch out in. Counter-tops are negotiable but gas burners are a must, as is an old, European style dining table (rugged and solid, not fancy). Also a small brewery and bar. Yes. A must.

SOCIALIZATION

NEED
You need your people. Some don't. Some can go it alone their whole lives and be solid. I'm not one of those people. I need positive, uplifting folks who like me as much as I like them. I am currently lucking out here, as my friend-base is incredible. Your friends are a reflection of you and how you see yourself. Think you don't deserve many good things in life? Is your self-esteem in the toilet? Then you no doubt will have surrounded yourself with friends who take your energy and crap on your soul. Usually, a person has shit friends (people who tear them down), because they didn't choose like-minded souls. It should be your first priority to have cohorts who are likeminded. Yes, it could just be that you happened to find people who flat-out suck, but more than likely the ones you hang with just don't think like you and aren't driven in the same way. I'm not saying your people need to be you, but they should be similar. I, for example, get extremely excited about the projects that I do and the things that I love. I therefor surround myself with people who do the same, especially about the things that I love! Is is selfish? Yes and no. It is, but if you are getting support and energy from your people about your projects, no doubt you're giving that same energy and support back. It's win win. You don't need to have people who want the same wants that you do, but you do need friends who support in the same way that you do.

WANT
I'm pretty much perfect here. My friends and family are incredible and I have an amazing support crew. The only real want that I have for my social aspect is to be able to help my people realize their dreams.

THE 4th NEED

NEED
There is, of course, hidden and hard to find, NEED #4: Purpose. We need to feel connected to the world, as our minds expand and evolve, we need to feel like we've done something with our lives. Purpose can only be realized when we've taken care of our other three needs. Purpose can be anything, but we usually mark it as what we will do for the rest of our lives, and more than not: our job. Is purpose always your job? Hell no. More often than not, it has nothing to do with what you do for a living. There's probably a small handful that woke up one morning saying: I, Marcus Everyschmuck, will repair AC units, as it is my purpose. More often than not, your job is your meal ticket. Your purpose is whatever you want. That's it. It's whatever you truly love and want to do with your life, the thing that makes you the happiest and makes you fulfilled. It's different for everyone. Some are fathers/mothers, some bake, some fight, some run track, paint, sing, make money, fuck, write and so on.

For me, it's entertaining. No matter the thing I do, I feel the need, the drive, to make people feel something, to look into themselves and truly experience the world inside and out. That's what entertaining is to me. Sometimes its as simple as a much needed smile, or as grand as helping someone else gain true confidence in their own abilities and maybe even find their purpose. I, myself, want to be happy. My happiness is achieved through helping others enjoy even a fraction of the things the world has to offer.

WANT
To be happy with my loved ones. To be the best that I can be in the things that I spend my time doing. If life is a contest, I am currently winning.

This post was not inspired by the OK Go song "Needing and Getting," but it does have an amazing video that threatens to inspire. Observe:

Day 10 - Much is Fine More Gets You Schwasted + Two Dreams

Sure was drunk last night. That's why this entry is coming now and not yesterday evening. I was actually fairly excited to write while tipsy or even smashed, but it went beyond that. No, I wasn't black out and there was a definite lacking in the vomit department (score for me). Instead, I hit that stage where you're so tired that your bed and blanket feel not unlike the soothing caress of your lovers arms or perhaps a really affectionate really fat guy who just wants to make it all better. Mazel tov if your lover is a giant happy fat dude, put two wins in your Victory Column. Also, if you drink regularly like I did last night, you probably look like the zaftig gentleman to my left, and should therefor add a third win into your Victory Column.

That aside, I do gain a certain amount of clarity and vision (though blurred) while I've a a couple. So for about an hour I had a nice picture of my new project and got to briefly mention it to my boys, Aaron and Erik, both brilliant folks especially in the vein of filmmaking. It was a nice conversation. I always love hearing people talk about their passions and projects and with how eloquent those two are it's very easy to get lost in dreams.

I feel the need to do a drink count. Here we go. Prior to meeting up with the fellas, I hit Grand Cafe to see Sena on her trial run first work day. Handled it like a champ, she did, poured me a good beer, then went so far as to make a fine Old Fashioned as my second drink of the evening. The aforementioned Old Fashioned was one of the strongest drinks I'd ever had, probably in the amount of 3 some odd shots in its larder. Ah yes, and then Koichi and Andrew, family from Seattle (love them two), popped in for a quick hello and a double shot of Ciroc. Starting to get to that magic level. Off we fly to East Burn, where three more beers (one of which is the Sierra Nevada Beer Camp winner. Like hoppy gold she was), get into my belly before we head to the tap-room and snag a gin and tonic, adding another color to the Wilhelm von Bezold (wiki that shit).  I don't remember if I had another drink when we hit Gypsy, but dammit I could have used one to drown out those singers. It was hair-band night at the local karaoke bar and it was painful. Never seen someone grind to Dream On before. It had an air of comedy to it.

Drink count over. I think I ended with 8 drinks (counting the Old Fashioned multiple times), and a head much needing a pillow. But upon the laying down I found I'd hit that nasty part of liquor related states: useless and annoying energy. It felt like an eternity until I conked out, held firm in a limbo of cheap alcohol and bad breath.

My dreams, though, were the payoff. I'd mostly sobered by the time REM rolled in, so the dreams were just tweaked enough to be both a nightmare (thank you alcohol) but very interesting. It was an island, like a mash up of New Zealand and a great desert. The colors were vibrant, so many deep blue-greens on the hillsides that became massive mountains of earth and golden sand, creating a wall that would keep harsh storms and colossal waves out. I was there during their storm season, however, seeing terrible tsunami's pound the natural wall with this shocking shade of blue. Evidently, their storm season grants the ocean the reach and power to climb over the wall, searching out any unfortunate folks who don't happen to be in their homes. The homes were sturdy, Hobbiton like dwellings, made of some kind of super-strong ceramic and glass pulled from the land itself and metals from iron like trees. We escaped along the peninsula, seeing the wave peak over the ridge and drop a thick sheet of water down upon us, finding refuge in a beautiful cream and yellow home. It was a nice place, very homey and the woman who owned it loved coffee and tea, as evidenced by her hundreds of brewing devices, pots and kettles. The sky darkened, and a thunderous boom swallowed up any other sound. The wave had hit. Flash forward some hours and the roof was starting to leak, but the storm was well over. It was decided by the towns folk that they move into the island, forcing them, and those willing, to pack up their belongings and head into the Storm Home, a seasonal community cut into the guts of the island itself. It was there that they began formulating a plan, a way to extend their borders and protect the island that had given them life.

I then woke up, actually excited by my dream, then I fell asleep and had another.

It was a VR of Jurassic Park. Not JP classic, though, but the one with mutant dinosaurs and some cybernetics. Go from point A to point B and avoid the hungry/angry prehistorics. It was a simple, weirdly invigorating dream, beginning in a cabin with three people besides myself giving the briefing. The cabin then fell away around us, revealing floating islands in a misty valley swaddled in overgrowth. We flew through the scenario until we came to the park and an...inquisitive mechanical T-Rex. I got away, making my way past a Pachycephalosaurus and a rock infused beast that looked like a Monster Hunter Creature. It crashed through a barrier, sending me through the glass behind me, and into the gift shop, which also happened to be the end of the adventure.

I bought a stuffed Pachycephalosaurus.