Don’t even ask what I was doing playing Minesweeper in this century. I could give you the reason, but besides the embarrassment of the explanation, I’m not sure you’d even believe me.
The point is this… the game is an incredible way to kill time, when you have it to murder. I don’t know about you, but I like to free ball for my first few clicks. I won’t start a game in earnest until I’ve unearthed a few open fields, a place for my soldiers to spread out and start sweeping.
Once I’m in, I then do the normal routine. Find your two’s, locate the one’s… god help you if you run into anything 6 or higher. Typically, I find it best to go into battle with a superior ranking officer. A friend of mine who will remain nameless in this space usually serves as my high command, signing off on most moves of serious import and generally taking charge when the most elementary moves have been cleared off the board.
However, even the most rookie sweeper knows that there comes a point where you’re just going to have to say, “FUCK IT, I’M GOING ROGUE!”*
We all know how most of these suicide missions wind up—with an X’d out Frown Face, that’s how. But, every so often, in the crucible of justice and minesweeping, there is that lucky selection, the one that unlocks the rest of the game. All of your hard work was up in the air, literally hanging in the balance, and a correct selection is a thrill unlike many other.
Guess right, you keep playing. Guess wrong, you lose a lot of good men.
It’s a lot of pressure, but that’s why it’s such a good feeling when you get it right.
Polar Opposite of this Feeling? I could go with “guessing wrong”, but that would be too obvious. I think the better answer is, “Reading this post, deciding you want to play minesweeper, then realizing you don’t have a proper mouse and have to wait til you get to work the next day.”
*Of course, if you actually either shout this or say it at all, you’re a lunatic.