Category Archives: Games

Safecracker

Safecracker draws people in on a primal level. A simple objective, mysterious board game, and of course the lure of shiny coins. Fundamentally, that little gold disc popping out of the machine is the closest most people can get to tangibly winning a pinball game. And then there’s the BOGO drink. In my experience, very little about getting that coin is directly related to being good at the game. Regardless, pretty much everyone smiles in delight when Candy shuts up and shows you the money.

Gold doubloons notwithstanding, I keep playing for a different reason. It’s deceptively simple, Safecracker teaches you to stop fearing drains the same way Fathom teaches you to embrace outlanes. Persistently firing balls no matter how many attempts are made, she rewards patience with time. From, there you have the freedom to try whatever you want until the clock runs out. A unique meditative opportunity amid glorified chaos, the single player experience is unparalled.

Needing laundry money and new to pinball, $2 for five games seemed like a solid investment. That’s how I chose Safecracker. I never anticipated how deep it would go. A recovering rage quitter from ages past, Safecracker taught me how to relax and have fun playing games again. I played that specific machine for nearly three months before branching out into pinball on the whole. When I did move on to Medieval Madness and Addams Family, my sense of control felt amplified. Safecracker’s compact playfield is more like a tricycle than training wheels. Getting on a big-boy machine after that is liberating and dangerous, comparatively.



BrolaB

A few small bitters in my tea but overall it’s a sweet brew. That’s all I can say about my time working on Capitol Hill. Continue reading BrolaB

Flamingo Stuttering

You came in the first day I worked alone at Raygun. I watched you play pinball out of boredom more than any interest in what you were doing. I remember noticing your tree pose and wondering if you do yoga. My crush was instantaneous and obvious. Also easily dismissed because of the dichotomy between us. Tacit admiration and friendly banter is all I ever expected. That day, you got a ball stuck in Taxi and charmed me into sliding the glass back so you could dislodge it. Assuring me it was a harmless fix, I was chastised for my actions later.

I encountered you sparingly after that. Discovering my own love of pinball in Belltown, I still don’t think I’ve ever seen you at Shorty’s. For me, the game quickly escalated from pastime to hobby to passion. Playing pins is something I do to relieve stress. A form of escapism, if I’m listening to music it literally transports me to another plane. When I’m playing no one can fuck me with me because I don’t care about the rest of the world. It’s my safe space and when I’m there I’m there to play. A long term gamer, pinball is a revelation and no one is taking it away from me.

Which brings me to the part where you completely fuck me over. I’ve seen you enough to consider you a friend at this point. We played in a couple tournaments and you know people that know me. My crush on you still lurking, I know you are a flirtatious person and don’t let you disarm me in casual encounters. Then you show up next to me at Jupiter that night, looking at me like that. I agreed to play with you because I thought you knew better than to mess with me. Was it the dress? Maybe the gin? Perhaps you were just in a bad mood. Either way you decided it was okay to try and get lucky.

Joke’s on you really. You could have used your moves on anyone else and probably gotten action. You decided to waste the impulse on me and start all this useless drama. To your credit, the aggressive making out is more than most people get so easily. Luckily, I’m a fucking lady and don’t go all in on the first date like a goddamn amateur. You are someone I’ve gotten to know for months. That night, you approached me. You kissed me. I deliberately kept a respectful distance before that. I want it noted.

Our moment of passion in the car is only a taste of the beast hiding inside of me. I’m deliberately hard to get to know. Like a tin man in the forest, incapable of interacting with anyone until they allow me to. Everyone approaches me at their own pace. I protect the people I appreciate by not letting them get too close. The friends I keep are curated from equal parts attraction and intelligence. Without heed, your bum rush sorta backfired when I didn’t fall head over heels. Now you’ve landed in the center of the arena with very little recourse. Especially because I met your girlfriend last night.

Poverty Line

Knowing people are just saying most things doesn’t stop my romantic tendency to believe them sometimes. Using empirical evidence I’ve found the line between hopeless and far-fetched. Stretching my goals gives the world just enough contrast to keep me interested. Everyday people can’t conceive how far the human mind goes beyond reality without outward indications. Spending time on the fringe of society alters perspectives. For most people being altered is bad. I decided to embrace the discomfort and see what living lean has to offer. Continue reading Poverty Line

Quintron and Miss Pussycat

Completely worth $12.  Not sure I like the advertising policy of The Stranger. $10 online, $12 in person. Justified by the service charge that makes the online ticket $14.75 after the fact. What about cash covers that go to the talent? It’s a terrible standard to expect your local talent to perform for free. A psychedelic punk rock puppet show combined with appropriately catchy dance music. I met two hard-core fans before the show and their enthusiasm embodied an entire crowd of fans.  The crowd itself was substantial as well. Continue reading Quintron and Miss Pussycat

Breaking Backs

I see them so plainly now, each crack in the sidewalk that tripped me up last year. Walking down the hill, my feet know where to go without thinking anymore. My knees are remarkably healthy at this point. I do have a huge burn on my side, coinciding with emotional pain like a metaphor. One moment of absent-mindedness taking weeks to heal. I can still see the thin line of 2nd degree in the middle. A crusty coin slot big enough for a quarter. Forcing a smile through the pain and doing yoga daily, I have a chance to gain productivity in the face of outright depression. Continue reading Breaking Backs

Slammin’ the D

I’m a naturally nocturnal creature. In the South, avoiding the sun is an understandable trait. In Seattle, it’s not even a challenge. I can go weeks without seeing direct sunlight if I want. Naturally, this led to a clinical deficiency of Vitamin D after my first winter. Every day felt like running through water and I lost the ability to do more than sleep during my time off. Fighting depression is hard enough without the added struggle to sit upright. In my defense, I took supplements for months to no effect. January, I gained a key piece to the puzzle. Vitamin D is only absorbed when taken with a meal. The opposite of what I do when taking pills in the morning. Oops. Continue reading Slammin’ the D

86’d

I’ve learned something about the service industry this year. Nothing we can steal makes up for what we give them in service. Modern feudalism. Necessary for the operation but expendable as individuals. A difference in perception separates the owner from the worker. Knowing the difference doesn’t equal liberation. Someone must possess a great sense of direction in order to escape the current ruler. A moral compass helps but money is faster.

Continue reading 86’d

Is it 2 1’s or 2?

Sitting behind a group of friends playing games together. I’m at work and playing a video game. The game is a grind because nothing in my life is easy right now and my mind wandered. Only voices to me, I developed caricatures of the group at my back. The main voice, describing the game seems tall and thin. The others are a various smattering of the Rat Pack mixed with the Lil’ Rascals. I can’t say there’s a huge span of demographic in my images. Most of my visual thoughts occur in grayscale. There’s a smattering of sepia when I’m feeling nostalgic. I’m just not that great of an artist. Continue reading Is it 2 1’s or 2?