It’s been almost twenty years since I lived in New York City, but there’s something sorcerous about meeting art that can so fiercely resurrect such a deeply personal time and place for an audience of one. Skate Story is one of these experiences; and for even more reasons, it’s easily an all-timer of a game. Sure, my hands are two rigid claws, my pre-arthritic joints are flaring up like a Guy Fawkes bonfire. My janky left shoulder is twinging, as it does when I get caught up doing computery things, and my heart is beating in the heels of my palms from deathgripping my controller. Frankly, this is just how movement-intense, combo-centric gaming feels when you’re not a svelte, well-oiled machine anymore. I’m a desk jockey made of SSRIs and pain, and I must skate.
