![]() ![]() 18 diaries filled with pages and pages of our purplest prose, in which one paragraph of information somewhat relates to a puzzle 15 locations away. It'll be much easier to excuse a collection of meaningless, unconnected puzzles if there's a book about flying cats or something. Seriously, this is the game that made it okay for developers to think, "Nah, screw telling a story, let's just make the player pick it all up from our handwriting-font-printed virtual novels. Every time I receive a game to review that requires me to read its entire plot from a digital pile of horribly written "books", I turn and look at you with such piteous contempt that your mothers want to disown you. If this was good enough - if this was what you wanted from gaming - then I hope the litany of miserable clone games that destroyed the joy of adventuring has made you very happy. ![]() Its hegemony reigned until the turn of the century, six million victims, and never an apology. Anyone found owning a PC without a copy would be imprisoned, beaten, and left to die. Vast piles of Myst were causing terrible landslides, killing hundreds of children, all around the world. Upgrading your RAM, here, have a copy of Myst. And you know why? Because it was given away with absolutely everything. Everyone with a PC in the nineties had a copy, you'll be told. "Oh, I don't really like videogames, but I did like Myst." It sold more copies than Kinkos - well over six million. Released in 1993, it became the non-gamers' game. I blame it for the recession, I blame it for X Factor, I blame it for the war in Iraq. I don't care if any of it is Myst's fault, I still blame Myst. Everything bad about gaming, every hateful puzzle, every stupid cut-scene, every dreadful piece of writing.
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