Man Versus Shadow of the Colossus, Part 1
How I Killed 16 Colossi in 16 Days (Well, 17 Days. OK, 18 Days)
1/26/2009 8:00 PM | 14 Comments | Page 3 of 4
Scott Jones
Status: Coffee makes me feel 4-percent sexier.
"He wasn't helpless," I say, trying to defend myself. "Look how little I am! I'm just this little guy. I weigh about 80 pounds."
But she's right. There's no glory in the Colossus' demise; I'm not in the mood to celebrate my "victory." There are no fist-pumps, no woo-hoos. There's mournful music. I'd forgotten how sad this game is.
Colossus Two (Saturday, 12/13)
I've never been to Philadelphia, so I should be excited. Will I eat a cheesesteak while climbing the "Rocky" steps? Will I ask a stranger to take a picture of me standing in front of the Liberty Bell? But as my southbound Amtrak train chugs forth, my thoughts wander back to the Colossus I laid low that morning.
Colossus No. 2: Look closely, and you'll see Agro in the way here. Yet again. (The big, pointy-headed dummy.)
He was a big four-legged beast with a severe underbite. He looked like a distant, inbred cousin of the Statue of Liberty.
Throughout the battle, Agro keeps galloping back and forth, putting himself in harm's way, and worse: annoying me. I yell like a crazy person: "Get out of the way, Agro!" It's comical the way he streaks back and forth, but after the Statue of Liberty's illegitimate cousin steps on him a few times, it's not funny anymore. Agro, you dumb bastard.
Suddenly, the Colossus rears back on his hind legs. I quickly shoot an arrow at the glowing spots on the underside of its front feet. He collapses long enough for me to climb onto his back. It's on, now.
Colossus No. 2: When he lifts his leg, it means he's about to pee a little. Aim for the white glowing spots on his feet. May your arrow be true!
This one has two glowing tattoos: one in front, near the head; and one in back. I drive what has to be the World's Smallest Sword -- it's really not much bigger than a butter knife -- into the back tattoo. Blood gushes forth. Then I make my way to the front, and take care of business there, too.
This one also topples in a humiliating fashion, its legs collapsing underneath it, dust clouds rising, face falling into the sand. My brother told me that when he had to put the family dog down last year, they stayed with him and held his front paws as his life expired; then, perhaps as his last will and testament, the poor old Lab pushed out a big, so-long-cruel-world turd. The only thing that could possibly make this more pathetic would be if the Colossus, in its final moments, soiled himself. Thankfully, he doesn't.
Colossus Three (Sunday, 12/14)
I spend the night in a sterile hotel in downtown Philadelphia called "
Club Quarters." There's a morbid air about the place. My tiny room feels like my long-dead grandmother just finished cleaning it. The wedding takes place in a brewery. Sellers is pals with the PC guy from the PC/Mac commercials, John Hodgman. I'm making small talk with Hodgman, but all I want to talk about is the Colossus I laid low yesterday. "Have you ever played
Shadow of the Colossus?" I ask. Hodgman excuses himself when I bring up the subject of videogames. He vanishes into the crowd, and gives me a wide berth the rest of the night.
