So I started playing Mass Effect 3 – despite promising myself I’d play the first two again before even cracking the seal on the case – and have decided to name my Shephard Bunty. Bunty seemed appropriate at the time, and as time goes on I only wish that in-game characters would say it. I’d love to had Garrus shouting ‘BUNTY, HUSKS, OVER THAT RIDGE!’ but for now I’ll be happy enough with the fact that I use Kinect voice commands that start off as random, but then throw in the command: “I COMMAND YOU TO… OPEN!” Makes opening a door so much more fun. But not everything is fun and exciting in the world of being the potential saviour of the Galaxy…
Oh no, some of it borders on the insane.
By insane I’m not referring to missions involving smearing faeces on the walls of the Citadel – although I wouldn’t rule it out given some of the distraction missions I’ve been finding – but instead I refer to the frankly incredible tasks that you, as Commander and world saver, are offered. Today alone I spent ten minutes finding Medi-Gel machines, just to fix damage caused by a saboteur. Ten minutes I could have been spending alongside Krogan forces wiping out the enemy on some god-forsaken rock, but instead I decided to wander around with little focus trying to fix a problem that should have been solved by even the most inept janitor. Inept as in unskilled, not inept as in Ian Huntley.
What makes it worse was the fact that I wasn’t even asked to fix the machines, I simply over-heard a conversation that sparked an entry into my journal which, being pathologically efficient, ensured that Bunty would be off in search of medical equipment to service.
Why not send me on a run to find some artefacts to facilitate a trade for weapons while you are at it, oh… you did that too. Yes I was sent, off into space, to find some artefacts to give to a shop keeper, so that someone else gets some weaponry. Benefit to Bunty? Nothing! Well, possibly some assistance in the ‘final battle’ but in the short term, very little.
I don’t mind the occasional distraction mission, but it seems that walking through a metropolitan area will fill my journal with enough quests to keep me grounded for a good few hours. Ah well, mustn’t complain, at least I’ve managed to make two civilians realise that war isn’t great, with my amazing powers of persuasion.
I’m sure my adventures with Bunty will have more of these trivial time-wasters – at least I hope so, it’s the only way to write about Mass Effect 3 without having to issue a liberal smattering of spoiler tags. People live and people die, but while there are small machines that require servicing Commander Bunty will always get her tool out and have a fiddle.
Oh, and I think Bunty fancies a teenage refugee.