Help, My Brain
One of the bonus feats given to our people - at the very moment of character creation - is the ability to focus on something to the exclusion of all else, indeed, the exclusion of our own welfare.
It’s not the same as just liking something. Any bottom feeder straining muck through his specialized jaw can like something, take an interest.
For example, it may be that they like muck.
What I am talking about is not that. I am talking about sixteen hours without blinking, looking at some Myst device pincushioned with arcane bullshit. Immobile except for the eyes from the wrists on back. Argon laser focus. Impenetrable cognition.
The retail version of Halo 2 and the Collector’s Edition (a mere five dollars more) both contain, in their packaging, different story elements – the CE in particular includes a Conversations From The Universe booklet with a number of fascinating, well, conversations I guess they’d be called. I’ve been trying to sew together concrete linkages between the single player campaign, this extended information, and the Bees revelations ever since I was in possession of every piece and it has utterly arrested my mind. I iterated nested scenarios of tremendous complexity all night and now I’m a Goddamn basket case.
When I was deeply infatuated with Popcap games initially, I couldn’t sleep for days as I imagined and resolved puzzles in a state which was similar to sleep but produced no rest. I can recall with a dreadful clarity that the final visual riddle was similar to the one I had resolved before, except now where there had merely been devious and unnatural shapes now each piece was made from different hardwoods whose unique grains posed a cunning challenge.