The pre-order bonus for The Witcher 3 at Gamestop was this metal keychain in the shape of the little wolf head medallion thing from the franchise.
It is perhaps the sharpest thing that Gamestop has ever given me. The points were honed to a comical level of prickliness.
In case you’re a person who’s never heard of The Witcher 3, although it’s the third in the series…it’s also a reboot/reinvention. It took one of the better classically-styled RPGs in the business and blew it out into a massive open world action game with a hilarious amount of writing and voice acting. It’s a game that has already had a strong influence on other franchises, like Assassin’s Creed, and will no doubt continue to exert itself as a force of design change for years to come.
I’ve never finished it. I’ve never made it past the 15 hour mark, in fact.
I put the sharp nightmare that was the free Witcher 3 keychain on my keys the first day I got it.
In 2015, when the game released, I had already begun to slide down the slope of not finishing big games that I’m still falling down to this day.
But this one would be different, I said to myself. I’m going to put this sharp thing on my keys to remind me every day to play this game…and I’m going to finish it!
Remind me it did. It poked me in my pocket. It poked me in my fingers. It clanged around while I was driving.
Over the last two and a half years since the game released, I’ve purchased two new consoles that can run the game better. I’ve also bought a new computer that can run the game better. Did I mention I own all three versions of this excellent game?
I’ve never even installed it on that shiny “new” computer from last year, nor have I installed it on the Xbox One X, where it just got a 60 FPS patch.
I don’t have a PS4 any more.
As of yesterday, I don’t have the keychain either.
The metal that held it together literally crumbled apart. It was devastating. I reached into my pocket and found only a mess of broken metal pieces. And that stupid sharp medallion.
I could have kept it. I could have tried to repair it. But I cast it asunder. Clearly, it was tired of its impotent vigil. It knew that I wasn’t going to play the game, and that it might as well just leap off of my keys.
I still want to play the game.
I need to end this cycle. I didn’t stab myself in the leg for two and a half years for no reason.