I had the pleasure of partaking in Video Games Live this year. Tommy Tallarico and his crew came to Burlington, Vermont for the first time in 2009 and it was a blast. At one point, Mr. Tallarico was talking to the crowd and broached upon the subject of video game violence.

“Some say that video games cause violence.” He said.
“Kill those people!” Responded a member of the audience.

I, like most dedicated gamers tend to role my eyes when people try to link real world violence to violence within a video game. If such a link were to exist, I'd image that with the growing prevalence of gaming in modern society that you'd have far more fans of Grand Theft Auto shooting at cops and mowing down pedestrians with cars they stole effortlessly from Wal-Mart parking lots. Generally speaking, rational people should be able to draw the conclusion that if someone does something crazy it probably has more to do with them being nuts and less to do with them popping off virtual people in a video game. “Should” being the key word here.



No, I've never had any doubts that video games aren't a cause of violence, but I used to wonder about whether or not I was one of the types who would eventually go nuts and drive my car through a crowded sidewalk, as if such a thing even existed in upstate New York where I spent most of my teen years. Don't be afraid, I have since learned that my feelings of loathing directed toward the outside were basically just puberty. I was that guy who didn't really fit in that well, with just about anyone and it pissed me off.

Only rather than going the well trodden path of social rebellion I was that meek sort of person who tried to please anyone and everyone who crossed his path. That, my friends, is the really lousy thing be, because when you're trying to be everyone's friend you're inevitably going to be friends with almost nobody. My attempts to be cool led to me being very uncool, and when I tried to embrace my uncoolness I somehow wound up being unworthy of the uncool kids respect, as well. Milk cartons to the head anybody?

My anger was the suppressed sort that sometimes tends to explode, and truth be told it did. My coming to terms with my less positive emotions resulted in a lot of crueler-then-they-had-to-be conflicts and even today I am anxious about entering into an argument because with my anger now more open I sometimes have trouble controlling it. I can become hurtful really quickly, and while I don't quite have it under control yet, it's something I'm getting a better grasp on as time goes by.



Back in high school though, my mechanism for control was video games. Those gamers who talk about how they'll be angry and then come home and work it out in a shooter game aren't kidding, it's a great release. Back in the day, my game of choice for that purpose was Hitman. Hitman 2 to be exact, at first at least. Contracts and Blood Money eventually stole the throne.

And my favorite thing to do in Hitman 2? You'd think in a game about assassination, it would be pulling off flawless hits. Nope. My activity of choice was shooting the hell out of the various civilians populating each level. Prior to each mission I'd deck myself out with the biggest and best guns the game had to offer and then would proceed through each environment -walking, not running; walking is more evil somehow- and just blow everyone away. I remember in the first mission of the game, “Anathema,” I would take particular joy in shooting the fat cook.

I know a part of this was because Hitman 2 was absolutely unforgiving. For the life of me I could never pull off stealth, so instead I would just shoot everything. The bigger part of it however was because, I just wanted to be the bad guy for once. All day, I played myself off as a nice guy. I was the dependable fellow you could ask for help (doormat). I was the shoulder girls could cry on when their douche boyfriends screwed them over (pansy). I hated every damn minute of it, and at the end of the day I just wanted to hurt something. Only, I didn't. I don't like to cause things pain. I get squeamish about hurting large bugs sometimes. So I hurt imaginary, pixelated people. I made them pay for the way people made me feel in the real world.



I really wondered if that meant there was something wrong with me. Every time I would go out of my way to make sure I'd killed every screaming innocent, I would question if there was something wrong with me for enjoying it. Was this some sort of sign? Was I a closet psycho? Was I destined to some day snap and waste a convenience store? Or I was I just an angry, confused kid feeling hopeless and looking for a way to be something I could never be in the real world? How badly I wanted to be a jerk, an asshole, a prick. If only I had been able to find a game at the time that would let me a bit more mild about it.