Harvested: A tale of love, loss and daily produce
Warning: Games
spoiled in this blog post: Harvest
Moon: Back to Nature (PSOne).
Believe it or not, but there actually was a time in my
life where I wasn't a cynical, snarky jagg-off who made fun of my favorite
video games in comic form. Before mowing down hordes of
aliens/terrorists/zombies or whatever the hell those things in Bulletstorm are,
had turned me into a manly space marine with scars on his face in place
emotions in his soul.
No, before all that, I was a young boy with stars in
his eyes and a song in his heart, just returning to his grandfather's home town
after his death. I had spent many a joyous summer on his farm, but
circumstances and time had taken us down different paths, and had it not been
for a rather curious clause in the old man's will, I might never have set foot
here again. The farm had fallen into a sorry state of disrepair and only if I
managed to return it to its former glory in less than three years would I be
allowed to stake my claim to it. Now, at the time I was a typical modern city
boy, with soft hands and an expensive haircut, but after mulling it over for a
while, I decided to pick up the gauntlet, and accept grandpa's challenge.
Before I knew it, I was standing there with a hoe in my hand, and my dog Brutus
by my side.
To all you city folk out there, this may come as a
shock, but farming is damned hard work. Every day, I would get up at the crack
of dawn, work all day, and then collapse into my bed in the evening, every
speck of energy drained from my tender frame. It was several days before I even
made it into Mineral Town itself, but at long last, a welcome shower of rain
meant that I found the tiniest opening in my harrowing schedule so I could
finally take the trip and introduce myself to my new neighbors. I instantly
fell in love with all of them.
There was Ellen, the kindly old, retired mid-wife,
who'd always have a story to share; Mayor Thomas, who reminded me that Super
Mario could have had a real career if he'd only applied himself a bit, and
Doug, the gentle, old-fashioned innkeeper, who just wanted to see his daughter
married off to a good man, to name a few of the wonderful people who
constituted this kind, close-knit community I was trying to best to become a
part of. There were a few less idyllic fates among these people as well.
Take Duke, the closet alcoholic and co-owner of the winery who drank to forget
that his daughter no longer spoke to him. He kept his grief well hidden behind
his warm, friendly eyes, but you knew it was there. And the bottle was there to
help him cope. He too was part of the great tapestry of personalities that made
this town special.
Of course, being a young, virile man with charisma to
spare, like all who know me would confirm to you, I couldn't help but notice
the plentitude of young, single women of wooable age who lived in and around
Mineral Town. But I also realized that though these were simple country folk,
they wouldn't be all that impressed by this young upstart blowing into town to
take over the decrepit old farm in its outskirts. I had to apply myself to gain
the attention of any of these beautiful girls. So I walked back to my farm,
with a bag of seeds on my shoulder, and a fresh determination in my step.
I first noticed her during the Tomato Festival that
summer, standing quietly, listening to her friends' conversation but not really
participating in it. She wasn't the most immediately striking woman I'd seen,
with her purple vest, worn cut-off jeans and big sturdy work-boots, she was not
the kind who'd immediately draw a man's gaze to her passing on the street, but
should you give her a second look, you'd have seen a pair of eyes of so
unfathomable depth, ships could sink in them and never be heard from again. So
sharp and breath-taking were they, a battalion of poets could spend a
century describing merely their colour.
They were green.
I knew right there and then that I would have to get
to know this girl. From then on, whenever I wasn't working on my ever expanding
farm, or slaving in the nearby mine, I took the trip to her family's store in
town, often buying useless garbage I didn't need, just to catch a glimpse of
her. She was dismissive to me at first, like she was to most people, but slowly
but surely, I tore down the barriers she had built to protect herself from the
world. Karen was her name. She had lived her entire life in Mineral Town, but
she spoke with a confidence of a woman who had travelled the continent, and
tasted a wide variety of the wonders the world has to offer. That was probably
the reason many saw her as arrogant or assertive, but to me, she was nothing
short of magnificent. Before long, I would spend all the free time I could
spare in the store, discussing, conversing, arguing and laughing with her. She
was opinionated, but always open to alternative views, even to her most
entrenched preconceptions, as long as you offered her a compelling argument.
She wouldn't smile just to make you feel better, only when you said something
that really delighted or amused her. And at the same time she'd make you feel
like the most important man in the world, because you were the one who tempted
it out of her.
I would enjoy this friendship for a year and a half
before I noticed the initial signs that something more was growing between us.
During that time, I'd had been less than covert with my affections for her, but
she needed time, and I gave it to her, knowing in my heart that she was worth
waiting for. My farm was doing well, I was becoming a respectable member of the
community, and on a rainy day towards the end of summer, I felt her lips
against mine for the first time, ran my fingers through her soft, delicate
hair, and professed my undying love for her.
I knew what I had to do.
For the entire fall season, I slaved away on my
regular chores on the farm during the day, but spent the evenings and nights working
in the forest, cutting the lumber I needed for this most important project. On
the first day of winter, I led her blindfolded to my farm, and as soon as she
had stopped giggling that intoxicating little laugh you'd only hear when she
was apprehensive but excited, I revealed to her the new wing of my farmhouse,
the perfect fit for a fledgling little family. With tears of joy in the corner
of her beautiful green eyes, she threw herself into my arms, and declared that
she would of course marry me.
As soon as the snow thawed, it was finally time to
meet her at the altar, and exchange our vows of eternal love and companionship.
The day was perfect. The entire town had turned up to share in our joy, and as
Karen's father walked her up the aisle towards me, I knew that my life finally
had purpose. To ensure that my bride had the life, the love and the opportunities
she deserved. In front of the pastor, we swore to cherish and keep each other
until both our days would end. Then I took her in my arms, and kissed her with
all the passion stored up in me since the first time I saw her, and knew she
had to be mine.
And then, darkness...
I must warn you, dear reader, that it is as this point
my story takes an abrupt metaphysical left turn. My screen had gone completely
black, and as it stayed that way, and nothing seemed to happen, my initial
belief that the PlayStation was merely loading all the assets for my wonderful
new life slowly vaned. After half an hour, I decided to restart the console,
and load the game back, confident that I would bypass this freak,
once-in-a-lifetime bug, and be launched into the family bliss the game had so tantalizingly
promised. Instead, all I got was more darkness. Six failed attempts at getting
the game to run past this point later, I was getting worried. Was this some
kind of cruel cosmic joke? Had I been led to the top of the mountain, and
granted a look at the land of milk and honey, in the knowledge that I would never
set my foot on it myself?
After a week of failed attempts, I was at my wits end,
and I resorted to the one option that was left to me in the time before you
could just run to the internet, and declare your outrage. I sat down, and wrote
a physical, handwritten letter to the publisher, demanding an explanation, and
more importantly, a solution. For weeks I waited, less than patiently for their
reply and at long last, it arrived in my mail box.
The answer was devastating.
The letter basically told me that it was a bug they
were familiar with, and that there was nothing that could be done about it, but
they handily provided me with an address where I could send my copy of the game
for a full refund.
I was furious.
I don't want your god-damned blood money, I want my
wife back!
Eventually though, I had to realize that the dream was
over. There was nothing that could be done. Karen was gone forever. I felt like
a young Bruce Wayne, standing at the graves of his parents in the pouring rain,
wondering how it could all go wrong so fast, and fearing having to live the
rest of my life without the one I loved. But there was no way around it. She
was never coming back.
So, like anyone whose backbone was worth the calcium
it was made of, I decided to face my dark, unyielding grief like a man. By
shaving my head, and murdering Nazis or Orcs or whoever stood in my way. Beats
actually having to confront your feelings, am I right, men?
So here I am, thousands of lives of my conscience
later, a grizzled, bitter old man, who remembers that young boy with the stars
in his eyes and song in his heart only fleetingly, on the coldest, loneliest
nights in the trenches of whatever God-forsaken conflict I've gotten myself
involved with. I sometimes wonder how that life would have turned out, had I
been allowed to live it. I wonder if I should have handled my grief
differently. Maybe Duke had the right idea after all. Maybe the answer did lay
at the bottom of a bottle. Then again, how could all the Krogan liquor in the
galaxy do what slaughtering waves upon waves of Locust never could? Erasing
Karen's face, looking lovingly at me whenever I close my eyes.
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