the artistry and psychology of gaming

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Gemini Man (Rockman: Claw 3)

Gemini Man (Rockman: Claw 3)

As you know by my constant ravings, I have had many dreams of the futuristic world of robots. Some of my favorite dreams have been of my second trip, but more recently, I have had one of the third trip that rivals even those. This was a dream that altered quite a bit, both in terms of visuals and structure. My trials were both challenging and engaging; the kind of stimulation that brings lonely desire upon realizing that it was only a dream. Still, I am grateful to have had this experience, and I will always have my memories.

I once had an incredible dream of my third trip that resembled the original world very little. The sights and sounds were completely different from my memory; it was barely recognizable. This new structure, however, was absolutely magnificent. Some elements were vaguely familar, but arranged in new ways that seemed very intuitive, yet I had not experienced them before. I’d like to talk about the area that replaced the crystalline satellite  in this dream.

When I landed, I wasn’t in outer space, but still upon the world in which the rest of the dream took place. I stood upon the heiroglyphic-adorned stone blocks from the pyramids in my fourth trip to the robotic world. In the distance, under a purple sky, was a futuristic city, and endless mountains a bit further out. It was twilight, and stars and a few moons were visible, also in purple. The sky seemed to blanket everything in it color, even celestial objects.

I began traveling along the road of stone blocks, until I came to a ladder. I climbed up into a lovely skybox, where I stopped to admire the scenery for what seemed like ages. Eventually, I had to leave my cozy little alcove, climbing higher to reach another stone road. Up here, the road was a bit less even; more like the roof that it truly was. I scaled large steps and squeezed myself through tight labyrinths. Eventually, my path turned downward, so I dropped into a shaft.

The path snaked downward, eventually leading me back to the road. The road now had several layers, forcing me to leap to the higher in order to tread them. I’d chosen wisely, as there were several stone walls denying my way. At least, they would have, had I not been in the ideal situation to leap across them. I soon came to a cavern, which resembled the underground areas of the forest from my second trip to the robotic world, only green and less textured.

I dove into the mine, and once underground, the scenery changed completely. I could see gems embedded in the green dirt; some were the typical jewel shape, whereas others were quite large and octagonal. They pulsated with some kind of energy, and some were plainly visible in the darkness deeper into this mine. It was then that I realized the reason that this was the crystalline satellite’s substitute: it served the very same function! The rock walls even resembled those of the crystal mine in my second trip to the robotic world, though they were dark blue with a purple gleam.  There were also red mechanical pillars, the function of which I could not discern; perhaps they were to light up the crystals, making them easier to mine.

Diving in even deeper, I reached some very large crystals in a raw form erupting from the ground. They pulsated with the same light as the others, making them quite the spectacle. Down here, it was quite dangerous; I made my way through through tight passages lined with deadly spikes lining the walls and ceilings. Soon, I reached the antechamber, which, while very small, was quite beautiful. Beyond here was the control chamber, which was filled with glowing crystals that almost seemed to light up the hard sands that formed the walls of the mine. Mesmerized for a moment, I stared into the strange pattern, wondering if it was a reference to something else I’d seen. No matter how deeply I looked into the gems, however, I could not find the answer…

One thing that I find about dreams – mine, at the very least – is the level of understanding within them. For example, I can remember only one dream in my entire life in which the place I visited looked just like its physical world counterpart. Despite this, I always know the location, as if I am staring into its hypothetical soul. The notion of a location having its own soul is ridiculous, of course, but I do find it fascinating that the mind understands its function, even if it creates a new visual coat of paint for it. Oh, if we could only tap into this level of structural understanding while awake, the confusion that we could overcome…

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