Skip Button Ending - Blog Posts
In the skip button ending, Narrator mentions wanting to undo what he had caused. Why didn't he make an undo button? Or take away the button? It seems like he wanted to do that but for some reason was unable to, though. Same reason he couldn't make another door, I guess. That still confuses me
It's time to admit that I almost cried when the Skip Button ending reset and I heard the Narrator's voice again
He has left us alone, but shafts of light sometimes grace the corner of our rooms
no, i'm still not over the skip button ending, thanks for asking
(stills and song link under the cut)
song is just take my wallet by jack stauber
you wake up. it’s been an hour. you wake up. it’s been a year. you wake up. it’s only been a second. the world is bright and cold and twisting like your mind. you wake up.
Stanley when he parables vs. Stanley when he can’t parable idk I’m not living a life of existential dread
Quite possibly my favorite part of Stanley Parable is when Stanley says “it’s Stanley time” and Stanleys all over the Narrator’s sanity.
That dang skip button pulls at my heartstrings every time. The poor ol’ guy just wants to ramble about manifestos and treatises and whatnot, but in a bid to make other people like him and his game, he lets who he really is be overlooked—trampled in the face of never-ending footsteps moving too fast to be moved by monologues. “Travel to the next dialogue line and cutscene, why don’t you, and cut me out of your life!”…is something the Narrator would probably say, if he had the will to do anything but beg that the button not be pressed again after being skipped over for the last year like an inmate forgotten in solitary confinement. You can skip the rambles, Stanley, but you can’t skip the angst!
It’s just too relatable. There’s probably at least one moral in there. I know I’d like to be listened to and believe there’s at least one person who wants to listen; one person willing to play my games. I know things have rarely gone well whenever I’ve let other people’s superficial opinions of who and what I should be dictate who I am; always left in the dust, rotting away for years.
Anyway, ramble over. Sometimes I wonder if TSP has released its hold on my brain, but then I’m reminded that the end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never the