One of the hidden blessings of
having my computer go belly-up recently was that Mr. Typist upgraded my system
and tricked it out with a new video card, and I was finally, finally able to get “Shadow of the Tomb
Raider” up and running on my machine. I fully acknowledge that I am a life-long
fan of Tomb Raider and that I have never met a Tomb Raider game I didn’t like,
but I must say with no exaggeration that “Shadow of the Tomb Raider” is, in my
estimation, the absolute best Tomb Raider that Eidos has ever put out. It’s
stunningly beautiful, with a fully engrossing storyline and a still-obsessed
but more mature, kind and wise Lara Croft. The developers paid great attention
to detail. The vast majority of the game takes place in the jungles of South
America, and the wildlife alone is stunning. Brilliant, multi-colored tropical
birds, jewel-toned Amazonian frogs, and other beautifully-rendered jungle
critters abound, as well as jaw-dropping landscapes and a bevy of fascinating
side-characters. The main story revolves around Lara’s attempts to thwart the
evil cult/corporation of Trinity, who is back at it again with their attempts
to obtain magical artifacts that will allow them to Control the All The Things.
In a moment of near-irresistible impulse, Lara steals a sacred dagger from a tomb,
thereby possibly ushering in the apocalypse, and so far is spending most of the
game trying to contend with her error and keep the baddies from gaining the
twin item needed to exert total control over humanity.
My only petty gripes with the
game involve cut-scene confusion, jaguars and immodest men. I shall explain: As
with former Tomb Raiders, there is a very disconcerting mechanic in which you
are playing the game, but then at some point realize AI has taken over and you
are in the middle of a cut scene. But then suddenly in the middle of said cut
scene, bam, you’re dead, because bewilderingly, it was your turn to do something, and there was no clue given
that it was time for you to take action.
It’s confusing, but fortunately relatively rare. In re: The jaguars—I am
nearly fifty effing years old and I fantasize that I have a weak heart, and as
such I really don’t need giant, terrifying jungle cats jumping on me
unexpectedly. The jaguars in this game are way worse than the bears in the last
game. They are huge, relentless, and otherworldly, and they possess uncanny
valley-ish, weirdly glowing eyes and teeth the size of my forearm. And don’t
even try jumping into a tree like an idiot in an attempt to get away from them.
Those bitches will just follow you right the hell up there, knock your ass to
the ground, and eat your guts with impunity.
Also, I hate to sound like a
prude—I am a prude, I just hate to
sound like one—but couldn’t the male villagers in the remote jungle outposts
wear some clothes? I find my Lara-self having long, complex conversations with
men who are outfitted in naught but the barest of banana hammocks covering their…personal
treasures…and it’s a bit distracting. During one random encounter, a guy in
nothing but a literal cotton covering that showed the entire, detailed outline
of his, let’s be grown-ups here, penis,
complained to me, “Those kids keep breaking into my house at night and stealing
my stuff. Maybe I should move.” I wanted to respond, “Or maybe you should put
on some pants,” but that wasn’t a dialogue option. Obviously I am too old for
video games, but that’s not stopping me. After all, it’s Tomb Raider. And heck,
what’s a little harmless male anatomy here and there, especially when said
males are in pretty fine shape?
I came home from the gym the
other day and told Mr. Typist that I did All the Things, and he said
encouragingly, “Wow, baby, you’re a hard charger.” Then I admitted that I
skipped the arm bands, and he instantly downgraded me to a moderate charger.
This feels right to me. When it comes to physical exertion, I am definitely a
moderate charger. Probably when it comes to everything else, too. But Mr.
Typist also recently ordered a special, super-fancy, long-handled serving spoon
from Amazon and declared it to be the official Spoon of Manliness, which I am
not allowed to touch, as my feeble lady hands cannot handle its weight and
torque. So he might be going through some things right now. I’ll just leave it
alone and be happy with the title of “Moderate Charger.”
Enjoy this (literally) poetic
trailer from Shadow of the Tomb Raider, and gaze upon its glory:
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