So, last night, in my bed, I was firmly decided to try my best at the damn Tetris. Introducing the age-old game whose very cover was lost in time and oblivion into the Gameboy Advance, I experienced a rapture. Kidding. But it was fun to hear those cheap electronic sounds again, and those Russian melodies. That was something original about Tetris, the music. Even as a kid, you could tell this soundtrack wasn't from around here. Add to that the Russian looking buildings on the opening screen of the game, and you have a handful of exotism. Then I played. I played for a long time. I'd alternate with a book; I'd read 30 pages, then play, then read again, etc. Eventually, after much perseverance, I reached the score of 140'000. I had no idea what was required to get the rocketship to fly. So when I eventually lost, I got to hear this fine melody which signified to me that I had made it! Then I saw the rocket, about to launch. And it did!!! I had made it! I had succeeded where I had always failed as a child. I made the fucking rocket fly into the air. Boy I was proud of myself.
I must say that after seeing those crazy scores, and remembering that my own dad had good scores; I felt somewhat Tetris-handicapped. That made me decide to take on this silly challenge. And it worked! I love silly challenges: they give you pride of the non-vain kind. You're proud but it's still Tetris...
The really big question about Tetris is this: why the rocket. Why the rocket? Has that anything do with the space conquest? A reminder that a Russian was the first man to ever be in space? You must know that the bigger score you get, the bigger the rockets get; a fact I was unaware of until I watched this insane YouTube video where a dude gets the maximum score available on the game. His rocket was huge. Oh yes, quite the rocket he had. Freudians back off, we warned you already. Next time I won't be handing peanuts to you, so be nice.
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