So I have this pile of games that are just yearning for me to continue. What to pick I ask myself. And then, it called out to me, like a neglected child that once stood tall as the son of a proud father before new and better children came into his life, dooming the offspring to an existence as ham on a shelf sandwich. The loyal game with a persistent memory would remain sitting by the window, waiting for the day I came back to it. The game?



Animal Crossing City Folk.

Like the hypnotic spell of the siren's song, Animal Crossing called out to me, begging me to revisit the town of my own creation. But I was afraid to put the disc in and turn it on. Surely it was a ghost town at this point. The weeds would be overgrown and the animal neighbors would be strangers to me, strangers to the kind deeds that I once fulfilled for another neighbor's behalf. And then there was the mortgage. The bells that I owed to Took for my two story shack would still be astronomical. Thank the heavens that late fees were not included as a part of this game.

It would be such an uphill battle, and I struggled to find the motivation to jump back into this "game" in which I would be so far behind in. What I needed was some sort of guardian angel to point me in the right direction. I was all sorts of lost and assistance was oh so necessary.

I said to myself, "What the hell" and decided to jump in with both feet. Upon booting up, Rover the gatekeeper reiterated what I already knew for way too long- it had been a while since I played.

I took a minute to regain my bearings. "The City" was different. I had changed (my guy now had bedhead). Things had changed around the town. All the neighbors were a strange blur of humanoid animals that I didn't recall meeting when I initially started my town. New fuckers I thought to myself. Yet, they knew about my absence. Gossipy ass animals. They were blunt, I prefer to think of them as rude.



I was in a terrible bind. I had to deal with these neighbors and my mortgage, but I did not want to be put to work as a gopher. I have a graduate level education damnit! Forget weeks of being at their servitude. I needed help. This would require outside help. I went on the internet, and looked for City Folk friends, people who would support me in my time of need, keep me motivated so that I could shape up and get to work fixing this town from criminal neglect.

And then it began. Leaving my gate open for visitors when I went to work and when I went to sleep, I allowed strangers on the internet to invade my town to do as they please, as long as they didn't chop down my trees and dig holes in my shit. They were friendly. The first left a note thanking me for my hospitality. The next did a fantastic thing and left behind a fossil for me to collect. My third visitor was the best. She invited me to her town, and it felt like stepping into a wonderland where all my virtual desires (in the Animal Crossing world of course) could be fulfilled. She had, in her time playing, amassed every single item that was available. And she offered everything up for grabs. Anything and everything I could take was mine. I took what I could and then she one upped the offer. She would fill up her pockets and come to my town to drop off some donations. This was a virtual Jesus Christ in the form of a cartoon girl with a button nose holding a golden axe.



After giving me Midna's helmet, Majora's mask, and Samus' mask, she gave me one final treat- the thing that would leave me forever grateful. Four million bells. Enough bells to pay off my mortgage. Enough bells to get an addition to the house. Enough bells for anything and everything I would ever need in the future. I was done working. I was done talking to the neighbors. I was done with that fuck Took. I was free.



And so now, I can finally play the game properly. I don't need to talk to these fucking neighbors ever again. I am just happy as hell to plant my fruit trees, go fishing, collect random shit on the beach, and design my city as the utopia I originally envisioned. The siren song of Animal Crossing called to me, but it took the help of an online stranger before I was truly able to answer it.

Fuck yeah! Animal Crossing kicks ass.

I didn’t know it then, but the following experience would be the first in many affairs that I would have in my life. I was naïve, and didn’t think there was anything wrong in what I was doing. In the present day, with so many people on both sides of the issue, my affairs would be looked down upon, but the urge persists. I’m sorry, but here is my sad tale of my first affair.

I was living with my folks at the time in an upstairs duplex. In the bottom unit lived my cousins. I was in kindergarten. I loved Voltron, Silverhawks, and Looney Tunes. Above all else, I loved my Coleco Vision. Mouse Trap, Donkey Kong, and Turbo got hours of my playtime. But there was one that stood as the pinnacle of fun- Gorf.



I was fascinated by space, and this space game had it all. Neat colors, cool sounds, and damned if the levels weren’t ingenious. I didn’t know about Space Invaders, so what Gorf offered me was totally unique. There was even a mother ship that you had to fight at the end that would blow up like crazy on the last stage. And when that was done, the game would send me back to stage one and I would do it again and again. This was the definition of fun. Little did I know that temptation was around the corner. In fact, it was much closer that- it was living under the same roof. And when it got its hooks into me, I would never be the same. The bright eyed innocent child would soon be lost to the grip of a different beast.



The Commodore 64.

One day, I ran downstairs like usual to play with my cousins. Perhaps we would climb the tree in the backyard or play with magnifying glasses and burn something. No. Today was different. They were gathered around the corner of their living room where there was a strange glow. And there it was. The Commodore 64. More specifically, there was Congo Bongo.

Congo Bongo, the greatest game this young boy had ever seen. There more colors than Gorf. There was better sound than Gorf. There were snakes, there were monkeys. I was in a daze. What was happening? I asked my cousins for a chance to play- “I’m next!!!” But no, I would have to wait.



And wait I did until it was my turn. Then, I got hit with a coconut and my turn was over. But that coconut did something. It made me realize there was something else out there that was better than what I had at home. My path used to be straight and narrow, and here was the first fork in the road. What was I to do?

In the coming days, I would continue to play Gorf. But it was no longer fulfilling. Something was missing. There weren’t snakes in Gorf. And there certainly weren’t any coconuts. I took every opportunity to run downstairs and play this new game. It was shinier, more exciting, and more importantly, it was new.

I had a mistress now that gave me what I needed. Gorf was old hat.

And as time went on, I would have more affairs. I would meet Sonic, Columns, and Golden Axe away from home, where the experience would be new and fresh. Ryu and Ken would have to wait a little longer as I marveled at Terry Bogard. And I stopped feeling guilty about my trysts. I do what I want to do was my new attitude. This attitude has carried on for close to three decades now, and it all began with an affair with a coconut.

So there you are, breathing heavily, scanning the alley in front of you, looking out for any signs of zombies. You think to yourself, “My teammates are counting on me. Don’t screw this up.” And then, something clicks. You say, “The hell with this.” You run out of the alleyway, leaving your teammates behind, where you immediately are surrounded by the undead and killed. Game over.

Another similar scenario- Playing SOCOM, teamwork and cooperation is of extreme importance to survive. So what do I do? The round starts and I rush whichever chokepoint I think the enemy is running to, usually after they have already established their position. I get dead. Amount of time elapsed before death- 15 seconds.

The two examples above illustrate my inability to play in any sort of cooperative mode, yet I still do. There is only so much Free-for-All that I can play before it gets boring. And that is where cooperative modes come in. Camaraderie, the shared experience, the sum being greater than its individual parts, all these things that people tout as positive aspects of co-op modes are simply lost on me.



I find that it’s just easier to not have to depend on someone else for the victory, and more importantly, not feel the pressure of having the team’s success be dependent on my actions. I’m a spaz. I generally play without planning. This is usually a terrible sign in co-op modes, leaving me as a bullet magnet/meat shield for opponents. And I know this puts my teammates at a disadvantage because my actions leave them down a person and numbers advantages are important in most modes.

Then there are the alphas. Those that thrive on teamwork, communication, have an innate ability to talk to and plan strategy. They are the leaders, the ones that are able to look beyond the shortcomings of their teammates and can eek out a victory with better planning. They are fun to play with. They seem to have their head on straight. They see the words Cooperative Mode, and are able to do exactly that, cooperate. Unfortunately, that is not me.

Me? I’m the guy that ran towards the middle to meet up with a bullet with his name on it.

Like many of you growing up, I was only able to afford a new game every so often, and so each purchase was a special experience. The back of the box usually had a fantastic description of the game, tickling my still young and fertile imagination, and from the aisle to the back of the car all the way back to the house, I would look at the 3 screenshots to the game I bought and imagine the new adventure I would soon embark on. What these screenshots usually neglected and wouldn't be able to properly show was the difficulty of the game.



Contra, Gradius, Zanac, Section Z, Castlevania. These were some of the games that captured my imagination as a child. The front of the box promised entry into otherworldy and more importantly, kickass action, and the back of the box explained the backstory that would immerse me into my mission to save the world (sometimes the galaxy, universe and beyond), increasing my heartrate as my brain kicked into overdrive to come up with my own origin story so that I may easily jump into the game.



I would power on the system, turn up the tv, and rock along to the music. I wouldn't immediately press the start button, instead, choosing to wait it out so that I could see an opening movie. This further fed my hunger. Then, when the menu popped back up, I was ready to press start.

Game on.

Two minutes later...

Game over.

What the heck?!

I'm dead?

Yeah, and so the last two statements would repeat itself over and over as I played these games, each time getting slightly further, but like in real life, death was inevitable. My face would be flush with anger and frustration, my hands not even having an opportunity to get sweaty, as the game over screen and mocking music to express failure played on the television. Such would be my experience with the harder video games as a child.

Nowadays, I still gravitate towards the more difficult games. At the game stores, I read through the back of the box, and my ears perk when I read about the inhuman difficulty of some games. When I read about the difficulty of Ninja Gaiden II, I smiled, and ordered it immediately. I love Metal Slug for its beautiful brutality and unflinching honesty in proving my unworthiness to play it.



I can appreciate a game's ability to make me its bitch through its horrendously unforgiving AI or terribly placed platforming sequences. But age has taken its toll. Honestly, I no longer have the time to play extremely difficult games. With the amount of concentration required, and the necessity of having the ability to suppress stress, I can no longer give these types of games my all. I have given up.

I only have so many free hours after I subtract work, sleep, going out, and other activities, that video games can no longer be a primary source of entertainment that I can devote hours to.

Case in point- Months and months ago, I played God of War. A fantastic game. I started on the most difficult setting. As the hours and days passed, the frustration and stress grew from all the times that I died and had to restart. I realized that the absolutely euphoric sense of accomplishment from beating some of the levels could no longer surpass the amount of dread I was experiencing whenever I lost. I put the game away, for months.

A few days ago, I fire up the game again. The experience was the same. Dread, frustration, death, and alot of shaking my head in dismay. Then, the game asked me a question- "Would I like to play on easy mode?" EASY mode? I thought about it for a minute. Would I be cheating myself of the experience that these game creators wanted me to have? Am I such a shitty game player that I have to resort to a girly (no offense) difficulty? Then I thought back to the times playing this game and realized that I was having no fun at all. It wasn't a difficult decision after that.

I selected "yes."



And you know what? I had a fantastic fuckin' time playing through the rest of the game. Yeah, I know. Easy mode. Anybody can beat the game on easy. I say, so what? I was having fun again. I began enjoying the exploration, looked at my surroundings with a new perspective, really enjoyed the creature designs, listened even more intently to the music instead of the dreading impending doom. This was fucking great.

Yes, I know. It's STILL easy mode. But that's alright. Games were made to entertain me, not punish me for not having the patience to withstand a digital hazing. I accept that now.

And in the end, I have come to the realization, that playing through a game and having fun with the little amount of free time that I can devote to a hobby that I've had since I was five is MUCH more important than proving to my more immature self that the most difficult difficulty is the ONLY way to play.

Seeing as how the forums are broken, I would post this here instead.

The bathroom at my work sucks. And stinks. And is located in the worst possible location. It is RIGHT NEXT to the office kitchen. Yeah, and the vent that sucks up all the dirty crap smells doesn't work very well. And the walls are paper thin, so anybody in the kitchen is privy to whatever duty is going on in the bathroom. It's like we all have sonar in the office kitchen.



I know Banj had a great thread about this subject in the forums, but since its unavailable, I'll drop this shit here.

Generally, I do not drop shits at work. I find it unappealling. I like to pretend that everyone else at my work also doesn't do what I like to not do at work. It's a part of their life that I have no interest in, and I like to go on my merry way, ignorant of the types of sounds and smells that exit their poophole.

Exceptions being (for myself)- I show up to work twenty minutes early and am the only person there, and the two cigarettes I smoked on the way to work as well as the coffee I drank has loosened up my intestines to the point of leakage.

The only other exception- Eating seven Stuffed Jalapenos from Jack in the Box (a fast food restaurant) last night after downing a six pack of cheap beers. This my friends is a ticking time bomb. And so I woke up this morning, feeling a bit sick. Luckily, I was actually a bit early in getting ready and was able to get a couple minutes to read magazines and empty my bowels at home (or so I thought).



I drive to work. Smoke two cigarettes. My stomach begins to cramp. I begin to sweat. I have two coworkers (both women if it matters) and think whether I should go or not. My ass feels like its on fire (thanks Jack in the Box!) and decide I have no choice in the matter.

I go to the bathroom, drop my pants, and feel as vulnerable as a dog taking a shit in public (you've seen their expressions, its sad).

After carefully making sure all was clean in the bathroom, I exit to the presence of my coworkers in the bathroom, no doubt having been treated to a symphony of sounds that only my ass could provide.



So, anyone else have a shitty location for their work bathrooms? Mine's next to the work kitchen, which I believe is the worst design choice, ever.

When I was about 6 years old, my dad took all of us to the local Target. This was right after Chinese News Year, and I had a pocket full of money just itching to be spent on the next NES game. Beyond Transformers and toy soldiers, I wasn’t a big action figure type of kid at the time. No, I couldn’t wait to get to the electronics section and see the giant wall of Nintendo games mounted, each a potential adventure for me to play and cherish.

When I got there, (cue the heavenly music) I was inundated with black boxes with cool looking pictures of the games that I could be playing when I got home. Each belonged to a “series.” There was the action series, adventure series, and I also remember the sports series. I could not fathom all the different types of games that were available to me.

My dad is not a very patient man, and he wanted me to pick my game so we could be on our way. I looked and looked, and finally saw something I wanted to play- Baseball. I gestured to it, and he picked it up and looked at it. Then he told me something I would never forget. “These games are a waste of time. Pick something else.”



I was heartbroken. I wanted to play Baseball. It looked so cool and fun. But my dad’s word was the law, and I so I had to pick something else out. In the end, I think I picked Donkey Kong Jr. (I don’t remember completely) and had a blast playing it. The important thing I remember that always stuck with me was that “Sports games are a waste of time.” It would carry with me for many years until I had my own source of income and then I was able to purchase sports games under my own volition.

This morning, I got to thinking, what causes everyone else in the gaming community to have this aversion to sports games? For myself, it was my dad’s words. I didn’t question it, because in my 6 year old mind, truth spoken is truth said. Could it have been, that he wanted me to go out and play these sports in real life? I would go on a couple years later to play Little League baseball.



Or, could the truth have been much more sinister? Could it have been something I was being warned about and just couldn’t comprehend at the time? Yes, I believe I had my answer. My dad was a prophet. He came to the realization before I did that sports games are the same. No matter the title, the initial five minutes of a sports game will be the exact same as the next five minutes of a game. And those first ten minutes of a sports game will be the exact same as the last ten minutes of a sports game. Nothing changes. And real life variables that apply like wind, skill level of competitors and teammates can not truly be duplicated by a computer’s formula. Because in real life, random chance is at play. That cannot occur in a session of Madden or NBA Live. If it does, it is a bug, a glitch.



As an adult, I have the means to purchase my own games and on occasion I do buy sports games. However, each time I do, I do hear a distant nagging in the back of my mind that states, “Its just a waste of time.” Inevitably, I shrug off the talking and purchase my game. Upon playing it though, I make note to remind myself that yes, that voice in my head is correct, and though the graphics may be shinier, the options more robust, that the Madden session I’m engaged in or the online match of Fifa that I’m playing, is the absolutely fuckin’ same game I played when I was little. Only they’re not titled John Elway’s Football, or just plain old Soccer.

Epilogue- I do enjoy sports games. I also enjoy real life sports. No matter how far technologically we have moved forward in the realm of the sports genre, nothing beats being outside playing a pick up game for an hour with friends and strangers. Win or lose. That my friends, is true co-op.