Welcome to Era Error's brand new column - Asset Analysis. This recurring series of articles will arouse your brain as we examine random assets from the enormously vast library of video games created throughout history - Even pre-dating the Dial-up era! (a service our Head Office unfortunately still utilises prominently today) Think of it as an exhibition of art which was long taken for granted and is finally receiving the limelight that it deserves.
Asset Analysis is certified to become more addictive to the human mind than heroin (even with an incredibly small dose) and if you've managed to read this far, then it's unfortunately already too late. You now have no choice but to read all of the garbage content that we frequently post as it's much easier to embrace an urge rather than fight it. Don't believe us? We decided to prove our claim by asking one of the many local heroin addicts roaming around the street to read this very article. The gentleman loved it so much that he wouldn't fuck off and kept trying to break through our window to read more. We had to politely ask the police to lace his drugs with fentanyl to effectively put him down. Good times.
As a sign of good faith to Era Error's brand new journalist, we've decided to hand the inaugural entry in the series to the safe hands of Don Tecmocarti. Take it away Don - you pathetic cunt.
DT: Thanks Adam. Without further ado, let's introduce the inaugural asset up for examination:
The texture first indecently exposes itself for the first time in the second mission of the campaign known as 'Halo' and it captivated players from the outset. Once the Master Chief jumped out of the Pillar Of Autumn like the wannabe Robocop that he is, the screen is immediately filled with an abundance of the delightful grassy render wrapped around large polygons acting as the ground.
This is the furthest point I remember of the game, as I never progressed any deeper into the campaign. My life was complete at that point. The texture of grass completed me and I presume this is the case for everyone else who played Halo. I never fired another bullet or grenade. I'd just crouch the Master Chief and tilt his head past his shriveled up little pin dick and virtually smell that grass texture for hours on end.
I mean just fucking look at it! If I didn't know any better I'd have thought I was looking at a real patch of grass - possibly of the Buffalo variety. It dead set looked like real blades of grass at the time and it blew my little pre-pubescent mind. In fact it may have began my progression into puberty at the ripe old age of 30, as I finally started to grow my own patch of grass not long after that experience which was most likely due to my fascination. Unfortunately my personal bush was no where near as impressive as Halo 1's and I've shaven it off in disgust ever since. I didn't want to betray the loving texture that would glare it me every time I'd turn on the game. I felt like I was hurting its feelings and I could never do that. At any sign of my pubes returning, I'd hear the Halo announcer yelling "betrayed" in my head and I'd fear the texture would leave me forever so I'd find any blunt instrument in close proximity to hack them off.
To this day I turn on Halo 1 every moment I can and just fucking stare at the texture. The impact it had on my life is unexplainable. I bet Australia's favourite gardener Don Burke would love to prune its blades of grass, but the sexual predator can't because it's all mine and no one else's. It understands me like no one else could. I've stared at it that much in bliss that I now know what it's thinking and I've witnessed every crevice of its seductive blades from every angle. It just turns me on. I'm in love with this texture for real. There's nothing wrong with my strong emotions for the virtual grass either, as I've witnessed an abundance of filthy, seedy old men grooming their front lawns for years on end. They are practically having sex with their turf while they use their prunes, fertilizers and ride on lawnmowers as their saggy wives are rotting away in the lounge room watching Jeopardy, so why can they get away with it and not me?
I'm not hurting anybody. It's just that my love of grass is virtual in nature and not accepted yet. All I do is rub my genitals against my TV while I pull my...
AS: And that's enough of the guest editorial of Don Tecmocarti. We've referred Don to our HR team for mental assessment before he is deemed fit to take part in another Ass Anal.
UPDATE: I'd also like to apologise for another blunder on behalf of Mr Tecmocarti. It appears that he confused a turf render from Deviant Art member HHH316 as the official Halo grass texture that should've been featured in today's article. The real asset in question can be seen below:
