One hundred and thirty four hours. Twenty eight minutes. Nineteen seconds. That’s how long it took me to wrap up the majority of Skyrim. At least, what I believe to be the majority. I did innumerable quests, completed the Civil War storyline in addition to the main through line, turned Bone Smasher the Dark Elf into a bad ass blacksmith/enchanter/archer/one-handed/light armor head of the Thieves Guild, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, leader of The Dark Brotherhood, member of the Companions/Bard’s College/Stormcloaks and slayer of many, many dragons.  WHEW.

But now what?  Skyrim was such a consuming, driving force in both my life as a video game player but also into my life as a quasi-responsible adult with responsibilities.  I now feel the same sort of emptiness that I get after finishing a really excellent book; namely, I wish I was still doing it.

Starting anew isn’t the answer, though I am curious how it would be to run through the game as chiefly a magic user.  I just don’t have another 134 hours to spare.  I guess the way forward is to continue to explore the game in my spare time, looking for new caves or keeps or towers I haven’t found before, using my twin Daedric swords to carve a bloody swath across Tamriel (or my twin maces, or my twin katana.  Dual weapons all day!).

Well, that and hold out hope for some incredible DLC.