So about a week back I posted at length about finally getting to play A King’s Tale, and how much fun it was. None of what I posted then is untrue, nor has my overall opinion of the game changed now that I’ve finished it.
But. This. Asshole.
This one right here.
I played A King’s Tale for about two hours today, and two thirds of that time was spent on this final battle against Ultros. I griped. I raged. I begged. He just wouldn’t die. Eventually, Brian overheard me yelling for chicken while trying to kill an Iron Giant and started to tease me in my stream’s chat, so I bullied him into helping me instead of cooking the actual chicken we’re having for dinner tonight. A few deaths later, and not even he could get it.
But the time that he played, while I was away from the controller, helped me. It wasn’t a zen… Good god, it was so far from a zen moment. I’m pretty sure I died a few more times after he handed the game back to me, but even then the game was different. Watching him didn’t really help, because he was going through all the same fails as I already had recognized myself. The frustration was gone, though, and that was enough.