Toby ends a long journey of personal exploration by realising he likes Jack a lot.
By Toby McCasker on May 29, 2013 at 11:04 am
When the bullets are flying thick and fast like swarms of flies with knives, I don’t like being out there by myself. I want a brotatoe at my side. Not only do the odds of being killed by a knife-fly go from 100% to 50% (maybe 25% if the brotatoe in question is really into potatoes, fried ones) but there may come a time when I would prefer not to stab-tackle a madman strapped with bombs through a plate glass window and would instead like Frank Woods to do it for me.
Many such brotatoes have similarly saved my ass with their badass, but after much ado about eating chips and thinking, I have realised my fave brotatoe is not a bro at all, but a sister.
“Sistatoe” does not have the same tremendous ring to it, but then Jack is kind of a boy. I can count the number of times I left the Normandy without her on no hands. Bald head-bump, let’s ride. Many brotatoes sprouted to mind during the making of this featurette, and maybe they say too much about the company I tend to keep: I was never without Sten in Dragon Age (his way of life intrigued and challenged me), or Isabela in Dragon Age II (her way of life really intrigued me).
Whiskey Rose hung out all the way across New Vegas (anyone who drinks so much even cannibals are wary of her is someone I can relate to), and even though he was kind of a gross old guy, props to Jericho for embodying the conscience of the post-apocalypse. Sometimes you need a gross old guy to… tell you… what to do. OK.
But Jack is like all my favourite people IRL. Moody, emo, detached. These are not qualities most people desire in another person but to me they suggest other things. An empathy for that kind of stuff springs from realising nobody is like that by default, and I really like stories about intergalactic drug abuse and group sex. I’d hang out downstairs in engineering for hours, man, until it got weird and she didn’t want to tell me the sordid details anymore in favour of leaning on her knees in a cool way. God, what a woman. I took her everywhere.
It got to the point where the sound of her Eviscerator (suits her, huh?) going off in a Krogan’s balls became soothing and I would relax and sigh, “Ahh.” I wouldn’t have stood through minutes of confusing childhood psychosis and anomalous weather on Pragia for just anyone. It’s a strange thing when a video game can render people you know and j’adore so familiarly and show them how to use guns.
And so my favourite brotatoe is a bald girl with excessive Force powers and impractical bras, and not a bro at all: Jack. Just Jack. Good gal. Help me think of a new term for her. Some kind of riff on “sister,” maybe. Sisterectomy? Uh. We didn’t get down, if you’re wondering. Seriously, it was platonic. It was. It would’ve been uncomfortable, like, try to think of your best mate like that. Yeah I know right? You feel strange.
I’d like to thank steve_rogers42 for the term “brotatoe.”