"Let's play a horror game. I got this in a used sale at GameStop," Eric said one Saturday afternoon, many moons ago. Why the hell not? The two of us, with his little brother in tow, stared at the cover of an unfamiliar title. Clock Tower 3. The front had what looked to be a school girl gasping at a risque joke told by her drunk uncle, Terry, and the back had some nonsense about terrifying excursions. Looked goofy.
We turned the game on, and were treated to some pretty standard horror tropes. There was a young and frightened protagonist, a spooky and mysterious location, and some little girls with bloodfaces playing pianos. Ho-hum. As I ran around and hid in closets from supernatural perverts I couldn't help but think how silly the game was. By the time I was asked to use celestial arrows to pin down the handsy departed, I had totally let my guard down.
You shouldn't do stuff like that.
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