the artistry and psychology of gaming

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Metal Man (Adventures of Bass)

Metal Man (Adventures of Bass)

I’ve had many dreams of the futuristic world of robots.  I suppose that you could consider it the world from the adventures of my youth that interested me the most.  The truth is that every Summer, I would spend a fair amount of time there; it was like an annual pilgrimage of sorts.  As time continued on, my trips lasted longer and longer.  I suppose that it stands to reason that it would permeate my subconscious so deeply, given how much time I spent there when I was young.

This particular dream was my favorite, and was among the first of them.  The colors were nothing short of stunning in almost every place I visited.  Not only the colors of the land, but also the colors that the robotic inhabitants had adopted were a glorious new shade.  The part of the dream of which I’d like to tell you today takes place in the mechanical factory.  The strange thing about it is that it’s vaguely reminiscent of a memory or another dream I have – I cannot remember which it was – of a trip to a neon-lit ice cream parlor.

My entry dropped me into a bold-colored wonderland.  The walls, floor, and ceiling were of a dark color between blue and cyan, almost like the spectral opposite of orange.  The columns with their candy-striped grooves were also this color.  Looking into the distance, gears, pistons, and shafts of a gorgeous shade of purple pumped and turned in the darkness.  The gray conveyor belts had flashing arrows of dark magenta to indicate their direction, and the belt itself was colored two shades of coral.  The way the colors played together created a lovely dark palette.

This new configuration was very dangerous, however; flying leaps of incredible precision were required to travel through without falling to a grizzly death in the powerful machine parts below.  Nevertheless, I continued on, eventually reaching an old nemesis from the factory in the real world.  There are these long chains with spiked compactors on their ends, which drop from the ceiling when the motion sensors detect something near them.  It is a rather efficient way to design such a thing, but very dangerous should someone need to go inside for maintenance.  These were now clad in an indescribable bronze-like color, which – while it stood out against the other colors – went aesthetically well with everything else.

As I pressed on – despite my own peril – little else in the way of new elements came my way.  Nonetheless, I was impressed simply by the configuration of everything.  There was something just a bit cozy about the tight corridors with the compactors.  The way that belts led into a deep pit underneath another belt just struck me, not that I could stand upon it and admire the scene for very long.  In fact, the many corridors were all broken by vertical shafts of one sort or another.  I pondered their purpose, as nothing seemed to be falling through them.

At the end of the last corridor, the area opened up a bit.  There was now a vast expanse of conveyor belts suspended over a deep chasm.  At the end of this particular expanse was a dropoff into an area with layers of conveyors.  Below this new room was an area that seemed to be a thematic repetition of the beginning of the factory.  I knew better, though; this was the intense marathon before the control chamber, just as it had appeared in the real world.  Putting my skills to the test, I charged through it as quickly as I could, impressing myself as I accomplished my goal.  In the corridor just before the control chamber, the walls had a very pretty purple zigzag pattern upon them.  The chamber itself partially had this design, as well, though parts of it were open and showing machinery.

This was an area that particularly haunted me when I’d awoken.  I paused to think about it, and realized that this dream wasn’t all that different from the real world counterpart.  That’s the thing about dreams: people find them so strange that they’re unable to see how normal they can also be.  Because all of your thoughts are flooding vaguely into the specific one that has become the focus, it is the differences that become readily apparent.  It is likely because most dreams are not recurring that one cannot spend enough time with it to notice the similarities to its real-world counterpart.  It would make sense that such similarities would exist, too; after all, our dreams are based upon the experiences we’ve had when we were awake.

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