But to the young widow with children to raise
alone, to the man dying an agonizing and untimely
death from cancer, to the person full of life and hope who is incapacitated by
multiple sclerosis, or to the child who has to start his or her life with an uncorrectable birth defect, the average isn't what matters.
Now, I didn't pour as many hours into Skyrim as most did, primarily due to having to juggle
multiple titles at any given time, so after around twenty or so hours I became distracted and moved on to whatever else was vying for my attention; with that said, one of my fondest gaming memories of recent times involve questing with my homeboy Sven until we somehow became separated, arriving at Whiterun to be confronted with a letter informing me of his
death (Which I tried fruitlessly to avoid by spamming previous saves to no avail) and then venturing back out into the bitter wilds
alone in order to retrieve his corpse and place it upon a shrine behind my abode in Riverwood.