Steve was ready to defeat the mechanized T-Rex boss. He had a bowl of nachos, a strategy guide and a map spread out on his couch. The nachos, of course, were for nourishment. The strategy guide was to help beat the boss because Steve had failed to do so after 77 attempts. He would not stand for 78. And the map served as a visual reminder of his failures. You see, using large blood red blotches, Steve plotted out each place where his character had died while fighting the beast.
This map plotting was a painful exercise, but Steve felt it necessary. The large red blotches on the map reminded him where to avoid the beast, and the map motivated him to do better. This time, he thought, the T-Rex will be the one crying.
He wiped the nacho cheese off his face and set his sights on his goal: toppling the Dino king. Steve’s digital character took one bold step forward in the digital world. The character unsheathed his sword, steeled himself against the face of evil and readied his shield to deflect any particles.
“Ok,” Steve said, “remember to tap the A button exactly 14 times when the boss breathes fire balls.”
Huge bombs of fire then shot out of the T-Rex’s mouth and zeroed in on Steve’s character. The character dodged, ducked and dived until the bombs ceased. The bombardment had shaken Steve’s nerves, but on the surface, he was as calm as a cool lake on an early spring morning.
“Whew!” Steve exclaimed.
He had made it past the first stage. He only failed to get past this stage 25 times before.
Now he moved on to stage two — the dreaded laser zone. The T-Rex shot burning red lasers out of its eyes; they were so hot that they melted rocks and anything in sight. Sweat poured down Steve’s head as if it were Niagara Falls, and he took a big gulp. Rather than hide from these bright beams, his character jumped over the lasers like he was an expert at jump rope. The lasers nearly burned the character a couple of times, but he made it through untouched. Well, the T-Rex did singe some of the character’s hair, but Steve thought, “You can’t have everything.”
Steve wiped his brow. He made it past the second stage.
The final stage was to hit the boss’s tail. The massive spikes on the T-Rex’s back threatened to eviscerate the character, though, as he targeted the tail. You had to have perfect timing to execute this attack and avoid death. Or so Steve thought. He believed he’d messed up so often in this stage because he hadn’t been “perfect.”
Steve waited to attack. He knew the T-Rex would recharge after the exhaustive laser blast assault. He figured this was the perfect time to attack because the beast was not shooting, and it was vulnerable without a strong offense. Sure enough, the beast rubbed its tired eyes, and the character pounced on the tail, tearing it to shreds. The mighty king fell and left a cloud of dust that rivaled a demolition project.
“I did it!”
Steve jumped for joy and smiled so hard that his jaw hurt. It had taken him 78 tries, and he had finally done it. He had beaten the boss and the game at last.
“I guess I won’t need you any more,” he thought to himself.
He ran to open the window. Then he picked up the game disc, winded up his arm and flicked the game out like it was a frisbee.
“Good riddance!” he said.
He turned around and marched triumphantly toward the kitchen to grab a celebratory beer. But he was celebrating a little too early because the disc came spinning back. The disc returned with a vengeance through the window, like a boomerang, and walloped Steve in the back of the head.
“Owwww! Will this wretched game never leave me in peace?”