Today is a bad day. It didn’t start out that way. Actually, I had a very good night of sleep and a lovely breakfast chat with Berglaug via Skype. But then the day went on, and it all went south from there. This was in part due to the trained monkeys over at Valve customer service who neither provided service nor made me feel like a customer. Rather, I feel used, like the poor high school junior who gets deflowered in the back of her boyfriend’s mom’s minivan after promises of roses and picket fences and family vacations to his grandpa’s farm, only to find him bragging about it in a thoroughly douchey manner to the entire football team the day after. And then everyone laughs, and she gets addicted to caffeine pills and finds out he gave her an STD and all other manner of injustices before she finds the courage to believe in herself and decides to take that art scholarship in New York after all. Next Monday at 7 pm on ABC.
Seriously. Valve made me feel like a Kleenex. A cheated, angry Kleenex.
See, Sunday before last, I was over playing some post-Easter-dinner video games with the Brothers Quattrin. Cian the Younger placed the controller in my hands and told me to play Portal. It was lovely. My god, I thought, a puzzle game! A game where I have to think and strategize and say “hmm” a lot while enjoying shiny shiny graphics and promises of cake. I wish to buy this game, I told him, but I am not a console gamer. Then download Steam, he said, and purchase it for your PC. So yesterday, I did just that. I downloaded Steam, their online digital distribution platform. Huzzah!, I thought. Digital distribution! I love this digital distribution! I looked at the prices for the game and checked my bank account, which was feeling a bit pinched after celebrating a friend’s birthday this weekend. After I hemmed and hawed, I decided to go for it. If I’m good with brown bagging it instead of buying lunch this week, I’ll be fine, I thought. I got out my credit card. I bought the game.