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Nuclear holocaust. The zombie plague. The robot rebellion. Until now, the prospect of doomsday existed only in the realm of fiction. By year's end, Sony and Microsoft will have thrown their hat into the motion control ring. Along with Nintendo, this unholy trinity will shift the focus of gaming away from the pursuit of high art towards the indulgence of base pleasures.
The world will come to an end.
Store shelves will become awash in vibrant hues as legitimate digital experiaunces are replaced by images of lobotomized families in directionless play. Hardcore gamers will be assaulted by legions of casuals asking them for recommendations from the latest Walmart Sunday shopper. Businesses will grind to a halt as impromptu Just Dance office parties become all the rage.
Once the final gaming bastion has fallen, the MoCos (as the infected will come to be known) will shift their attention to other desirable pastimes. There will be no more liquor or high-calorie fast food. Pixar will close down as funding for DreamWorks Animation increases, and all live-action films will be romantic comedies starring Sarah Jessica Parker. Cultural evolution will slam the brakes and shift into reverse.
We are already seeing sporadic outbreaks across the globe. It's not too late to prepare for the coming storm, however! We may be unable to prevent the MoCo apocalypse, but we can take steps to preserve the sanctity of gaming.
Sever ties with everyone.
Every personal connection you've made in your life is a liability. People who know you tend to want to keep in touch with you. If they keep in touch with you, they may ask you to engage in activities with them. Those activities may include getting together to play Kate Touches Milo Inappropriately. Don't give them the opportunity.
Avoid checking your mail. Disconnect your answering machine. Stop returning phone calls. Most importantly, don't leave the home unless you are in disguise. You wouldn't want someone recognizing you on the street and harassing you with idle chatter. "Where have you been?" "Is something the matter?" "I'm worried about you! Can you talk to me?" "Wanna hit the virtual lanes?"
Most gamers are already social outcasts so making the jump to full-on seclusion should be a seamless process. English poet John Donne once said that no man is an island. John Donne was a dirty casual.
You own a lot of useless garbage. Get rid of it. All of it. Clear out your attic. Empty your china cabinet. Sort through the boxes in the back of your closet. Look, it's the watch that has been in your family for generations. They say that you can't put a price on precious memories, but you can. A couple grand, easy.
Establish priorities, my friends. In the MoCo future, your one and only concern should be ensuring the continued existence of real gaming. Anything that could be considered a distraction to that singular focus needs to be excised immediately. Naturally, the only items you should hang on to are your multimedia center and the collection of software currently in your possession.
Let's not waste an opportunity to transform your excess furniture, linens, and cutlery into liquid assets. You need all the cash you can for what comes next.
Stockpile game hardware and software.
As one of gaming's last wards, it's up to you to preserve an archive of the medium's greatest achievements. Hit up eBay, Amazon, Japan Yahoo Auction, and wherever else to acquire key software and hardware spanning the decades. As a fine gaming connoisseur, you should understand that no collection of fine art is ever complete, that there will always be something more to add. Regrettably, the clock is inching closer to midnight and many unfortunate games will fall victim to the fallout. Do all in your power to rescue the great AAA masterpieces first and foremost.
All the money you've collected through flipping your undesirables must go towards the expansion of your gamer cache. As long as the equipment you purchase is free of any MoCo operation, nothing is too extreme or obscure. Pong consoles that no longer operate properly? Throw them on the pile. Defunct handheld devices? Go for it. Superfluous peripherals that are not manipulated by button input? You should probably let that filth burn.
In regards to next-generation consoles, Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3, they have yet to be tainted by their MoCo destiny and should most definitely be included in the archive. As for the last-generation blunder known as the Wii, it is a poison for which there is no cure. If you are the owner of a Wii, you may already be damned.
To check for Wii infection, grab the front of your pants, pull it away from your body, and peer beneath your undergarments. Still have your balls? Good, you are still a man. Cast the machine and all its non-game software into the nearest septic tank to stew with the rest of the excrement.
Buy an onahole.
You're going to be alone for the rest of your life.
Disconnect from the Internet.
Hardcore gamers have long relied on the World Wide Web to follow the pulse of technological progress. The free exchange of information and good-natured support amongst one another has kept our spirits high during these troubled times. Unfortunately, continued use of the Internet is in violation of Número Uno. It has been crucial in our archival efforts, but now it's time to pull the plug.
What about online gaming, you say? These are my people, you say? This is our fight, you say?
Keeping the cyber portals open will leave you vulnerable to viral outbreak. Imagine if a news crawl announcing the grand success of the MoCo wave splashes on the screen. Your psyche, weakened by your heavy burden, may break at a reminder of the outside world's harsh reality. What if you download a firmware update that adds MoCo compatibility to previously motionless software? The purity of your media shrine will be tarnished!
Another thing, how well can you trust the online community? How many are actually viral marketers for the latest Ubisoft sensation? How long before the most stalwart among them turn? You'll find out once they start spamming your inbox with requests to play co-op Jillian Michaels Masturbates a Horse.
When you don't know who to trust, the only person you can trust is yourself.
Drop off the grid entirely.
The government can still track you. Your landlord will demand rent. You can lock your doors and windows, but others still know where you live. You have to get lost. Close your bank accounts. Cash out your retirement savings. Cancel your subscription to Men's Health Magazine. You must become a ghost.
Once your affairs are in order, pack your things in a nondescript van and drive as far away from Podunk suburbia as you can. It's well-documented that the first mo-co infections were in outskirt communities populated by uptight, ascot-wearing WASPs, single mothers who carpool children to and from extracurricular activities, and senile war veterans who think that shooting five under par in Tiger Woods Bangbus Tour will make restore their youth. Avoid those hot zones.
Find a secluded cabin in the woods and establish camp. You won't have access to utilities, so find a location near the river and purchase a reliable generator to power your media center. For last-minute provisions, travel to the nearest general store you can find and stock up on non-perishables. You don't want anyone to track your location, so make sure to murder the owner and bury his body beneath you floorboards. Trust me, the cops in hick country won't care if one or two go missing.
With your cabin loaded and secure, hunker down and enjoy the years of peace and solitude in your own little digital world as the rest of the planet falls to ruin. Perhaps a cure will be discovered in the distant future and civilization will prosper once again. If that happens, your gamer archive will serve as spark a new era of cultural discovery!
Ha ha ha ha! You fool! There is no escape!
Look at what you've done! All your elaborate preparations must have required such strenuous labor! In your aspiration to avoid the hassle of playing MoCo games, you've expended more energy than playing those games would have ever drained! You lost before you ever began!
Succumb to failure. Resign to your fate. Embrace death. No one will mourn your loss. They'll be too busy shadowboxing in the rec room, waggle sticks in hand.
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