I Am Guybrush Threepwood, Mighty Pirate

April 11, 2013


When I was a wee lass, I spent hours sitting next to my sister Joanne, watching her play Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade. There was a scene where a coffin falls open (probably when you hover over it and click “Open”) and a skeleton gapes up at you. Peeking over Jo’s shoulder, I was so scared after this point in the game that I couldn’t go near our bathtub for days (because of the skeleton that might be in it).


Eventually I grew old enough to brave the terrifying world of ‘90’s adventures games on my own. I had wingman-ed Jo playing Maniac Mansion, Loom and more — but the first game I truly remember as my own was *The Secret of Monkey Island.

Why did I love Monkey Island so?

I soon learned to find more games just like this, in other flavors. As a young ‘un in Kuala Lumpur, I didn’t know what the kids in America were watching or listening to or wearing, but I knew to tag along with Dad to the “computer shop” and keep my eyes peeled for the LucasArts logo.

In retrospect, it was all Dad. Dad, who mum always said spent too much time at the computer shop, would send me over to the “PC Games” section while he loitered around the the “Work/Office” section. Then he’d buy something for himself and something for me. It was Dad who made me pick Full Throttle when I’d never in million years expect to be interested in a game about motorcycle gangs. I also remember him looking stricken when I wanted to give up on Day of the Tentacle and asked if he would get me a walkthrough. (He wouldn’t.)

The last LucasArts game I played was The Dig, which came out in 1995. By that point I was crushing on Gabriel Knight and pretending to like Myst. A little later I discovered the Internet and never bought another adventure game.

…until a few years ago, when I heard about The Shivah, and tried it out for kicks. With that taste in my mouth again, I picked up TellTale Games’ Tales of Monkey Island.

They say that the end of LucasArts was a long time coming. That may be so — but for me, like a certain fearsome Ghost Pirate, the spirit of those adventure games just won’t die.


I was Guybrush Threepwood, Mighty Pirate again — forever young, earnest and hopeful. It all came back to me: staying up late with Jo, even if my neck ached and my eyes drooped, just so I wouldn’t miss important clues; looking up at Dad haggling with the lady at the computer shop for a discount on the brand new LucasArts title for his kid, because god knows he’d been in again soon for the next one; basking in the pure and delicious joy of solving little puzzles toward slowly but surely winning the whole shebang.

Can’t wait till the next one.