What do I have against Terraria?

Pictures the scene, a zuckerbook chat approximately 176 hours ago at the time of writing. My colleagues and I were engaging in a bout of light merriment, when of all things, a youthen delinquent came crashing in through the saloon doors, red faced and clutching a bottle of XXX. he staggered across the dusty floorboards to pester the Barkeep.

“Terraria is a good game,” he stammered. No one deserves to be to talked to like that, the barkeep was a just hard working blue collar joe with a wife and family, and here this chowderhead was trying to take all that away. The posse and I rose to feet pulling out our six shot, single actions.
We took aim at the filth when I stepped forward and said, “this is why you’re wrong, bucko.”

A few years ago after moving house I had to spend a few weeks without internet, a troubling experience for any youth. When I came back online I found a 2 bit 2D side scrolling rpg sandbox had taken the scene by storm. I picked up a copy and hence began a delve into the deluge of paranoid mania and swirling addiction that was, my first terraria playthrough. I’ve never been the same since, i’m a shell of my former self.

The game had more bosses than a meeting of people who are in charge of stuff, haha perfect metaphor. it has more amours than a french love poem. More weapons than a american high… fantasy novel. Over time they added more features like a hardmode, events, and fishing. It could be quiet easy to derdride the for the inclusion of such extraneous elements but how can I be angry when it’s given me an excuse use a gratuitous elephantine utterance.

To call it grindy undervalues the sheer banality of it all. Labouring with keys and mouse: building, crafting and searching past the last points of tangible thought. It feels like the game makes the smallest incremental change possible to gameplay in order to keep one playing, and keep one playing it does. three hundred and more hours of my life i’ll never get back. If I wanted to struggle against such tedium i’d be sat at a desk pounding the keyboard… writing a review of... Shit.

The myth of sisyphus was a greek myth about this the titular character having to push a rock up a hill for daring to try and have a little fun or whatever. Some french smart guy who liked to smoke, descriptive right, called Camus was like,
“yeah, that’s basically my life in a nutshell #relatable.”
lots of smarties agreed so how we have absurdism, Camus thought that we must imagine sisyphus as a happy chappy, which is hard at first until you remember that kid who came into the bar in the first paragraph, he too seemed to have found a way to enjoy in the joyless monotony of tasks that leaves you where you started with its every cycle of progression, he liked terraria.

So if we take progression through the game to be absurd then Camus leaves us with three ways with which to deal with it. First is suicide, bit harsh, we’re not dealing with league of legends here. The second solution is believing in a higher power, something Camus labels as philosophical suicide, how snarky! The third is accepting the absurd, given that he saved it until last and options one + two were, in essence KYS. we can conclude discussing this was a waste of time, but i’m happy about it.

Even though terraria is an objectively bad game that is shit it has the potential to help us to cope with the absurdity of everyday life by being slight less tolerable than talking to your drunk aunt. A quality that makes it more akin to a therapy session, often needed after aforementioned conversations. Then again if I want to do something to help me get on in life I wouldn’t be playing video games now would I?

The boy collapsed with an clumsy thud, the contents of the smashed bottle ran along the floorboards seeping down the cracks in the floorboards going unnoticed before the streak of red that now painted the bar. I gripped by six shot with a furious intensity, my mind was racing. Heart thumping and soul screaming. A thin trail of smoke wafted out from the warm barrel, I was a outlaw now, a bounty for the murder of the mayor’s boy would see all manner of lowlife roused to follow my hooves.

I fled zuckerbook and ran off into the night and spoke my last “,Terraria’s shit m8.”