So the 3DS is released in Australia this week, but we received one last week. So partly to inform, but mostly so I can mix business with pleeaaasure, I’m going to be running a daily diary of my experiences with Nintendo’s latest exercise in wizardry. Ladies and gentlemen – welcome to day six of the 3DS Diaries.
Dear Diary,
It’s been six days since I finally received my 3DS in the mail. Six long days. I’ve been given only two games for survival, and a smattering of installed programs in case of emergencies.
Upon receiving this survival pack, I had questions. Would this pitiful sustenance really provide me with the gaming nutrients required to get me through the week? I had doubts. I played conservatively, hoping that the lustre of these new games wouldn’t lose their shine. But once I indulged… well, I’m ashamed to say that my base instincts took control.
I couldn’t. Stop. Playing.
And now what, Diary? I’ve completely exhausted my resources, with nothing of substance in sight. Post Poopy’s tragic, untimely demise, I’ve been so traumatised that I’m afraid can muster little desire to check up on my Pomeranian puppy ‘Missile’. The poor blighter remains unfed, unwatered, and unwalked as I lay here, blanketed in my own self-indulgent sense of ennui. I’m so sorry Missile. I simply don’t have the energy.
Video game resources are in short supply. In a search for gaming vitamins, I’ve resorted to playing around with the 3DS’s lacklustre sound application. Dark days indeed – fraught with the boredom that eventually comes from playing two games over and over again. Like some disturbed, three dimensional merry-go-round, there’s only so much time you can indulge before you feel woozy, nay nauseous.
I’ve been waiting for days. Ubisoft is my only hope now. Each morning, at dawn, I stare out into the horizon… waiting for that elusive courier man, eagerly carrying the package that will redeem me, help my hapless journey make sense. Ghost Recon – I await your arrival with bated breath.
But it never comes. I continue to wait, sinking to my knees in mental anguish. Back to memories of Poopy, Hadoukens and [shudder]Face Raiders.
Pilotwings Resort looms in the distance. Is it some mirage – the trick of a twisted mind gone rogue? At this stage it’s impossible to tell. The game edges ever closer. Will it arrive in time to save this bitter wreck, this barely recognisable shred of of humanity?
I hold on desperately for you… Pilotwings Resort. I pray you won’t let me down.
Regards,
Mark Serrels
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