It’s on a warm summer day, sitting on a burnt orange and avocado rug, that my love affair with video games began. My cousins were going berzerk in front of the big tube TV in the living room. On the screen: little white bars and dots. I try the thing, without really understanding why there is hysteria around me. Pong!!! Pong!!! What the hell?
It doesn’t take five minutes, I’m hooked. Look at all that futuristic technology! Had I known what was yet to come in terms of realistic graphics, I would have creamed my Fortrel shorts on the spot.
To win and conquer through a machine! Goodbye marbles and plasticine! I found blissfulness in triangular pew-pew-pews shooting at rectangular aliens.
I didn’t have a console at home. I had puppets and Chia pets. So, as soon as I could get my hands on a few quarters, I went to the corner’s greasy spoon and ate ghosts. The feeling of that ball in the palm of my hand and that «Waka waka waka» in my brain until insane…
I was introduced to the arcades in the years of crimped bangs and Toni perms. That’s where my allowance came to die. Ha… the sounds of my adolescence… A melodious cacophony where the beeps, the pows and kraaashs were back vocals to coins that clinked and acneics that growled.
I’ve always had a weakness for flippers that gave me that famous trust that will make me popular among my prospective lovers. I also loved holding that plastic gun, making a badass move off the screen. But I hated the cable attached to it that broke my momentum. I drove cars, threw coconuts, hit the punching bag, my smile transformed by the black lights in a Cheshire cat grin. Half of my gastroentitis were caught by touching all those clammy controls.
When Kurt Cobain made me tie hunting shirts around my waist, the beige computer finally joined my everyday life. A gift from my mother for my studies. Still no Nintendo, like most of my geeky friends, but settled for floppy discs to fight dragons that glitched or diffuse simplistic bombs on a canvas of gray bricks.
It’s really in the era of g-strings out of jeans and duct tape against terrorism that I started my obsession. My addiction was exacerbated by two catalysts: a nerdy son and an engineer of a husband. Then, the pixels multiplied. The resolutions increased tenfold and so did my pleasure. Boxes of happiness were connected from the telly to my veins and X, X, A, LT, X, B, Y!!!
I gave myself small doses by dragging a game boy in my purse. Only the true ones will know what it’s like to have a Korobeiniki or Overworld theme ear worm. This was a time when my eye twitched continuously after having spent far too many hours in the sewers of New York.
Today, during the era of the emoji poop, I’m on my own and console myself with my own console. I’ve got the control non-stop and loving it. I wear whorish leather armor or dress as a radioactive pin up downing Nuka Colas. I can start my life as I see fit, as often and differently as I wish.
I mate with the arcane mage and create damage before I reincarnate into a bike that rages as in engages in metal cages. I’ve got mad fowls on the throne and wild Animus on the couch. I don’t care about a mere arrow to the knee; I’m the Queen of Blades! If steel wins battles, gold wins wars. I suffer and I survive with no Gods or Kings, only man… or workaholic orcs… Because it is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly.
When I grow old, if I have enough mana left, I dream of wearing a virtual reality helmet before I finally meet the boss. Wii!!! Saint Server Admin, I wish for an old folk’s home run by Ubisoft!
All this to say, that RPG passion is personal. Be lucid when ludic. If I do not bother you with how I kill my time and zombies, get the fuck away with your Candy Crush requests.
Otherwise, I can easily prove that video games make you violent…
“Finish him!!! »