So John and I are playing Bioshock 2 together.
And by "playing together," I mean he plays and I sit next to him offering valuable tactical advice, like:
"Shoot him again!"
"Shoot him again!"
"NOW IN THE HEAD!"
This, naturally, leads us to the question of whether video games promote violence. My opinion? Absolutely. Why, the instant some drug-addled, tommy-gun-bearing mutant crawls across the ceiling in my direction, I am totally firing a frag grenade in his a$$.
Truth be told, though, I am a huge wimp when it comes to video games. I generally prefer ones like (I am not making this up) Ty the Tasmanian Tiger - the game that taught me Australians randomly exclaim "Crikey!" and "You beauty!" when excited. (Good to know in case I ever visit; I'll want to fit in.)
So anyway, the first time I saw John kill a Bioshock bad guy and blood spatter across the screen, I cringed away and had to watch through my fingers.
Fortunately, though, the game gives you lots of less gory (and far more entertaining) options for whoopin' up on the baddies. Which is my excuse for yelling out "Oooh, now try a proximity mine! And Inferno Blast 3! Oh! Oh! And what about the armor-piercing rounds?" while we were playing last night.
Given my enthusiasm, you might think I would try to play the game myself.
Well, I did try.
First I made John stay in the room with me, because - remember the wimp thing, now - this game scares the bejeepers out of me. Then I started a new game from the beginning. I was practically humming with excitement (I believe it was the Imperial March), certain that all my time watching John play would assure me an easy victory.
I finished the beginning cut scene, gripped the controller tightly in anticipation, and...
...promptly ran into a wall.
"Not so easy, is it?" he asked, perhaps because I may have possibly at some point called him something like a doofus for dying during a boss fight. Possibly.
"Hush," I said, and tried again. "Ah. Whoops."
"Is that the floor or the ceiling?"
"Look, you use your right hand to look around, and your left to move. Just try to do both at the same time."
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to get through this doorway."
"So walk through it."
[through gritted teeth] "It's not. that. easy."
After a few hours, I gave up. I can only assume that going two years without playing any video games at all (blame CW) has left me irredeemably uncoordinated. Plus, at one point around 2AM I was stuck in a bathroom stall (Hellooo, shades of my 6th grade dance) and this terrifying mutant lady leaped into my face shrieking and I screamed and John screamed and the cats looked at us like we were idiots and that was more than enough for me.
So, for now I'll stick to being John's co-pilot: reminding him when to use a med kit, that the drill dash is best on the big Brute guy, and explaining why finding Schroedinger's cat is awesome. But I guess I'll also lay off calling him a doofus. For now.
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