“There are women out here in real life that do have these body types.”
I’ve banged my around this town in all manner of unsavory places, so I’ve got no judgment for a good subway fucking, but Jesus Christ, WHERE ARE HER SHOES?????
I actually wrestle with this a lot. I have some anxiety problems, so that nagging worry that I’m not as good instead turns into a crippling weight and I sometimes shut down. It’s not the best place to be. Reminding myself that other people are having just as hard of a time doesn’t necessarily fix it, either, because…
Again, much like life itself.
The best part of the game is how it changes right when you think you figured it out. After a few deaths I figured out how to collect food and farm then winter came and the food stopped. I froze to death. Once I mastered winter, a giant goat monster arrived and crushed my camp.
These are the ways I remember dying in Call of Duty: Black Ops: shot in the head by somebody; shot somewhere else by somebody; injured by grenades; fell off something; many variations on these themes.