Game Review- How “Mafia 2” bummed me out

I will not resort to a terrible Italian accent for this review-you and I both deserve better. And that’s what I felt about this game in general. I deserved to be treated nicely by any game I spend time with.

It is undeniable that Mafia II is a beautiful game, but with problems. The city is visually detailed and rich, but the faces are waxy and creepy. The soundtrack is authentic to the time periods in the game, but there’s just not enough music. The gameplay mechanics are serviceable, but are unnecessarily complicated at times. On these points alone, I would normally recommend a game. Unfortunately, there are two big problems that sink the experience for me.

First, the beautiful city they’ve created has very little to do in it. A sandbox is useless without toys, and this game has you going from point a to point b in the story line with no interesting distractions to wander off and follow. The “grand theft auto” series has spoiled me with choice, so a game that tries to fit in the same “sandbox” genre but doesn’t deliver the goods is a big disappointment. Where were the side-missions, the lists of cars to collect, the friends to entertain, the properties to buy?

Secondly, the plot itself made me feel like my character was a dim-witted thug destined for an ignominious death. Not only was his best friend stupid with urge control issues, leading the main character in a cycle of rash actions and missions to rescue his dumb ass, but at every juncture where a smarter character would make a choice to avoid trouble, your character shrugs his shoulders and goes along with disastrous ideas.  He is never clever, and the end of the game is depressing and unrewarding. I want to play as the hero, not as the doomed stooge.

On the plus side, one of the collectible things in the game are vintage Playboy magazines, and boobies are nice. 5.5 out of 10.

But there really is a wolf this time!

From an early age, I have been adept and willing to worm my way out of any commitment that I don’t want to fulfill. Oh, the times I have used illness as an excuse to avoid some kind of work or social obligation. And when I couldn’t muster up the courage to offer the sickness excuse in advance, I’d fall back to simple avoidance. In the words of Homer Simpson: “I’ll hide under some coats, and hope that somehow everything will work out”.

Well, that was years ago, and I’ve been trying like hell to stop ditching things because they’re hard, like my battle with phone talking.  But if it turns out that I legitimately have to cancel something, I feel compelled to tell whomever I’m cancelling on that, this time, it’s for real.  Sigh.

It’s not as if anyone out there has a in-depth attendance/truancy chart for me. No one is taking notes and waiting for me to slip up, well, no one except me, and self-persecution is ridiculously unproductive.

The specific activity being cancelled, for those who are interested, is Max’s dental appointment tomorrow. He has a nose and head full o’ snot right now, and was running a touch warm last night. Usually, a cold takes a few days to run its way out of him, so he’ll still be a mucusoid menace tomorrow. Going through the sedation and dental work tomorrow morning would be a terrible idea, and even if we didn’t cancel, the dentist would probably send us home if we walked in the door with a sniffling and coughing child.

Unrelated matter: still making little to no money, and getting a little antsy about that. Of course, sitting in front of the computer and trying to will the universe into giving me money isn’t panning out, but a mild panic is keeping me from seeing the best course of action. Okay, deep breaths and calming music time.

Ya mule, YA!

I’ve come back from vacation with a determination to be more productive overall. Yes, yes, I know I blather on about working harder frequently, but this feels different.Previously, I’ve been intellectually bemoaning my inactivity but I haven’t really felt that bad about it. That is the real problem-I’m comfortable with underacheiving.

For the last few days, though, I’ve felt different. Instead of becoming a useless pile of internet-surfing slug after dinner, I’m working my way through various household jobs and a small amount of writing work. I’ve been able to focus on one task at a time instead of scurrying around trying to do 8 things at once and forgetting 7 1/2 of them.

Infuriatingly, I have been given additional surprise tasks that are testing my resolve, like the washer full of putrid water on Monday (the culprit was a bikini top breast pad plugging the sump up. Oh it smelt terrible). Yesterday was the discovery of the curdling milk soaked into the back seat of the car. That one isn’t resolved yet, but blasting the air conditioning in my face seems to mask most of the stink.  Today, the cat was frightened by the sound of the dryer, or she was tired from a day of doing nothing, and she chose to pee in the dining room while I sat 10 feet away. That, ladies and gentlemen, is respect.

So, all of these hurdles are pushing my anger buttons pretty successfully. I’m trying to do a good job for once, but life keeps heaping other smelly jobs on top of the stuff I normally neglect. I’m angriest at myself, specifically the lazy slob inside who still wants to shift into neutral and do nothing. That guy is pissing me off.  Still, laundry is getting done, kitchen is clean, carpet is shampooed, child is happy and nurtured, and wife is doing okay.  I got gun shy at writing up and submitting an article query to Today’s Parent magazine, but hopefully I can take another run at that tomorrow and be successful.

Doing things is hard!