My movement was jerky. I felt slow, and could not get the hang of holding up my gun and turning. The door in front of me opened slowly, beckoning me towards the darkness. I found myself walking through the hallway of an abandoned mansion, a strange predicament, when suddenly a dog burst through the window. I cried out in panic. I was shooting all over the place. The feral beast had taken a bite out of me, and blood was spewing everywhere. The bullets seemed to have no effect, I was surely a goner. Just when I thought I was done for, it stopped. Dead. It was finally dead. I took a second to compose myself, check how many bullets I had left. But I also had one question that kept lingering in my mind- how the fuck do I shoot and aim at the same time?
The original Resident Evil came out in 1996, when I was still a kid. Even if money wasn’t tight around then I doubt my parents would’ve let me play such a wonderfully macabre game. I was still playing the family Sega Genesis, spending hours mastering Sonic 2, and sneaking in some playtime of Mortal Kombat when my aunts would bring it over. The Resident Evil franchise just seemed to pass me by, and it wasn’t until years later when I saved enough to get a PS3 that I would experience that frightening moment in the hallway. I didn’t know much about the series, so when it was finally available on PSN I downloaded it to see where it all began. Going back and playing a PS1 classic you didn’t grow up with can be a little jarring. Funky controls, bad translations, and hilarious voice acting may turn off others but I always found that stuff more charming than irritating. Well, that was the case until the second zombie dog burst through.
The bastard had killed me, and left me rattled. So I started again. This time I would be prepared. I practiced aiming and turning, getting a feel for the slow methodical movements of a human tank. If that’s how Jill moved, so be it. I was going to get her out of there alive. I found myself in the hallway, the air thick with anticipation. I moved forward. Once again the zombie dog from hell leapt through the window, and came straight at me. I aimed and took a shot. It landed, and the dog recoiled. I hit it again, and again. It dropped at my feet, a miserable pile of blood and gore. On to the next foe. The second dog burst through the window, lunging towards me. I aimed and took a shot. I got him right in the face. I aimed again, and missed. The little mongrel took a bite out of me, but I kept my composure. I am a tank, damn it. I raised my pixelated arm and fired off a few more shots. They landed, and the little monster was dead. I checked my ammo, took a breath, and moved on.