Good Me: Did you hear? I just opened up our Xbox queue and learned that they’re releasing Fable III! Aren’t you excited?
Bad Me: You just heard that? Seriously, do you live in some kind of cell cut off from the rest of the universe? How could you possibly miss that? Old news. Move on.
Good Me: Oh, come on. Now that were done playing Dragon Age, we need something to keep us occupied. It’s got guns! And a rebellion! And there’s a chicken in the trailer!
Bad Me: A chicken. You’re excited about a chicken?
Good Me: Well, I didn’t say it was excited about chicken. The chicken is cute. But I’m excited about playing the game again. I mean, don’t you remember the first time we played? It was everything we ever wanted in a game!
Bad Me: Are you serious? The first game, while it had some redeeming qualities, was lackluster. And the second? You honestly don’t remember that time we were loved into a corner and had to restart the whole system, losing hours of progress?
Good Me: I think I vaguely remember…
Bad Me: Vaguely remember? We were attacked by a throng of sex-obsessed villagers who wanted nothing more than to love us to death. We were shoved up against an iron fence, right near that nice house we bought. Seriously what a waste of time!
Good Me: But the second game let us customize our character! We even got to play a chick! She was so… so…
Bad Me: Hideous?
Good Me: Well, she didn’t start out that way. So she ended up having a sweet tooth, and her magic abilities made her look freakish, old, and gave her these really weird glowing eyes—but, her husbands loved her! And her girlfriend. And love is what it’s all about, isn’t it?
Bad Me: You are embarrassingly insatiable when it comes to cultivating in-game relationships, you know.
Good Me: Excuse me for having a sense of responsibility. I can’t love them and leave them like you do, especially when there’s kids to consider… But if a new prospect comes along…
Bad Me: *sigh* Really, you want to start all this again? I mean, if you’re all in it for the limited-edition Fable controller, go for it. You need more kitschy stupid stuff in the house. I was getting bored with all the trinkets we already gathered.
Good Me: No, I don’t want the controller. Not… not really. I mean it’s shiny and stuff, but my hope is far beyond that. Chances are they fixed some of the stuff that was wrong with the other games. You know what I’m talking about, and you agreed with me: there is so much possibility with a game like this. You can be evil, I can be good. Everyone is happy. We can play as one!
Bad Me: Then that makes us neutral. And for the record: I’m not evil. I’m just a hell of a lot smarter than you.
Good Me: Hey, no need for insults.
Bad Me: Well, don’t expect a challenge. You remember what happened with the last big boss, right?
Good Me: We killed him with one valiant stroke!
Bad Me: We could have sneezed and killed him. Bo-ring.
Good Me: It’s only because we played the game so well. The boss just didn’t have a chance against our combined powers of awesome.
Bad Me: *laughs* You know that’s not true. We fight like an orc on steroids after he’s had six Red Bulls, and we never even attempt to block a blow. We end up looking like the Grand Canyon is going through our face. It’s hilarious.
Good Me: You’re mean. And it’s not hilarious. It’s character.
Bad Me: I’m surprised he didn’t mention the “s” word yet.
Good Me: And which one is that? Sh–
Bad Me: No, not that one. Steampunk. You know this game’s all industrial, right? With smokestacks and guns… and the whole royalty thing just makes it, well, the kind of fantasy environment you usually drool over like some lovestruck Justin Bieber fan.
Good Me: Who’s Justin B–
Bad Me: Nevermind. Steampunk. We’re talking about steampunk.
Good Me: *drools* Well, yeah. But I don’t see—
Bad Me: And there’s a villager maker… and though it has its limitations…
Good Me: Wait a minute, are you at the website?
Bad Me: *covers up computer screen* I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Good Me: You made a villager! In a pink dress! And you pre-ordered the game!
Bad Me: Evil has many guises, my dear.