I Rocked Too Hard

Some extended family of ours is in the process of moving. During that process, they weeded out and handed down some older belongings of theirs. Among these belongings were an older video game system, a collection of games compatible with said system, and some controllers. When my daughter, Brianna, was handed these items; her reaction is what many physicians and scholars have referred to as going gaga. She didn't actually make an audible gaga sound. Nonetheless, you could see the glazed look in her eyes and her unnaturally widened smile and know she had definitely been afflicted with gagas.

The next Sunday morning, Brianna had wasted no time in hooking the video game system to our television in the living room. It wasn't long before she and her brother, Caleb, were playing a game together. This wasn't just ANY kind of game. This game simulates playing guitar in a band before an audience. It even included a guitar shaped controller. I say because there are no strings and no pickups. There are several colored buttons on the neck as well as a toggle controller on the body where one would normally pick the strings. You choose from a selection of real classic songs. You then use the screen to cue you as to when to press which button on the neck. You must also simulate playing the notes by moving the toggle controller on the body. Anyone who knows me knows that the mere mention of the word guitar is enough to get my attention. So, I sat down and watched Caleb and Brianna do their thing.

I was watching Brianna choose songs from bands like Foghat, Mountain, and Pat Benetar among others. Many of these songs were songs I knew from when I was younger than any of my kids. This made it even more interesting to watch Caleb and Brianna try to tackle songs they had probably never heard previously. The song was cued up and Brianna started ripping through the song like a seasoned axe slinger. I figured some of this was due to the fact that Brianna can play a few chords on a real guitar. This theory was quickly proven wrong. Caleb's turn came up and he chose a Mountain song. Now this was a classic song but I had doubted Caleb had ever heard the song before. You'd have thought that I had Leslie West, himself, sitting on my couch the way Caleb was ripping through this. He wasn't familiar with the song and does not play guitar. That didn't matter because he had played this guitar game quite a few times previously. The kids were having a blast and I was having fun watching their virtual shredfest.

Brianna then held up the guitar shaped controller and said "You wanna give it a try?" Now, I not only had heard these songs many times over my lifetime. I actually knew the chords to a few of them. All the same, I chose the Pat Benetar song. It was a song I knew and I knew the chords. What happened next can only be described as a quick exercise in humility and humiliation. I didn't make it halfway through the song when I was told by the game that I failed and was booed by the virtual audience. Here I was thinking I could get Pat Benetar to fire her husband. Apparently, I wasn't even good enough to get an audition for Spinal Tap. I could actually see Nigel Tufnel shaking his head at me and saying I was "dreadfully, frightfully, bloody awful". I actually went upstairs and grabbed my red Squier Affinity Telecaster. I HAD to assure myself that I KNEW the chords to this song and the passage of time had not erased my memory of those cool power chords.

Caleb took the controller (once he and Brianna stopped laughing at me). He chose another song and started jamming. He was REALLY getting into it. He had his body hunched over and even had a cool grimace on his face. You'd have thought he was headlining a great summer outdoor concert. He suddenly shifted his body back. This motion tugged the controller cord connected to the video game system. Suddenly, the video game system slides off the bottom shelf of the entertainment center and onto the floor. The cool thing was that it landed face up and didn't cause a skip in the game. Caleb kept playing right through to the end. He then looked at the system on the floor and smiled. "I guess I rocked too hard". We all had a good giggle out of it. Caleb and Brianna kept playing the game. I remained content to just hold my red Tele. Pat Benetar still has her husband playing by her side and Spinal Tap STILL won't return my calls.

Get a (Virtual) Life (As Published by HumorPress.com)

I have enjoyed playing video games from time to time. I have invested in several video game systems over the years. After all, I like it better to play on my Sokitumi 3000 at home than paying a week's wages in quarters in an arcade. There are two reasons for this: 1. Arcades are not on every corner as they were in my teenage years. 2. Given than I am in my early 40's, my Dad no longer supplies the week's worth of quarters (no matter how nicely I ask).

If you don't want to invest in a Sokitumi 3000, you can go to the Internet and play a wide variety of games free of charge. You can even sometimes combine your video game system and the Internet and play games with total strangers within the privacy of your own home. The gaming world allows you to be a soldier, fight space aliens, or join a rock group. You can do all of these things awhile sitting in your pajamas with a plate of cookies. If you want something less sedentary, you can get a sports game that will have you on your feet swinging, throwing, or running (and never your living room).

I have come to understand that part of the draw of a video game is to live vicariously through the role of a virtual entity. Who wouldn't want to be a princess saving plumber, a major league baseball player, or a heroine in painted on clothes saving the world from apocalyptic destruction? Personally, I do not wish to be a heroine in painted on clothes (but that's just me). Who wouldn't want to join a rock group that hasn't recorded anything new in 30 years? Imagine if you will, the following scenario: "Hey man, can you play guitar? Ace Van Snider broke his hand." "No, but I have a guitar shaped game controller and I know all the color patterns." "Well, get up on the stage with us, man. YOU'RE IN!" One must admit it's a great escape from the world.

However, I have become greatly confused of late. Players all over the world (me included) have been drawn into a different type of game. I am referring to games of simulation. You start in a virtual environment that is completely bare and build it from the ground up. You can be a virtual farmer or a virtual college girl in a dormitory. I personally do not want to be the virtual college girl (but that's just me). You can build an amusement park or a restaurant. The simulated gaming world offers a wide variety of scenarios. What's strange is that you can even be an average Joe living in a virtual home. You can buy virtual furniture, virtual appliances, and a virtual painting to go above the virtual fireplace paid for with virtual money. I have even seen someone seat their virtual character on a virtual couch and play a virtual video game on a virtual wide screen HDTV. That's right. I saw someone playing a video game where there avatar was playing a video game. I was afraid that avatar's avatar would also be playing a simulation game that would create a virtual vortex that would end the world as we know it.

What gets even crazier is that some people even revolve their real lives around their virtual characters. I got home from work the other day and asked my wife to run an errand with me. She was sitting at the computer and said she had to wait until her cookies were done. I took a sniff and noticed something strange. I couldn't smell anything baking. My wife corrected me. "No, my ErsatzWurld avatar is baking cookies. If I leave now, they'll burn. Do you want my home to catch fire?" I asked her to forgive my obvious thoughtlessness and ran the errand alone. When I returned she was tending her online farm. After all, you can't let virtual blueberries go to waste.

I can't help but wonder what will happen next. Perhaps the virtual farming industry will take an economic nosedive. This will inspire three virtual musicians to host a virtual fund raising concert. You can have virtual vendors selling overpriced virtual t-shirts. You can recruit the rock group gamers to fill the virtual bill. Maybe Ace Van Snider's hand has healed. If not, I've been practicing.

Ace of the Arcade

My son, Caleb, LOVES to play the video game system we have in our home.  Many a time, I have entered my domicile after putting in a full day’s work and seen him with controller in hand. I do manage to get a brief and almost automated “Hello”. In spite of this warm greeting, his eyes never leave the screen. Sometimes I even stare at him for a couple of extra minutes just to be sure he is blinking at regular intervals. Usually, he is engrossed in a race between a plumber, a mushroom, and a princess. Other times, he is engrossed in the adventures of a blue, hasty hedgehog. Sometimes, the plumber and the hedgehog are playing together in the same game. My wife, daughter, and I have also fallen into the tractor beam thrown out by the ensnaring entertainment system.

Admittedly, for the cost of my family’s weekly food budget, this game system has more than paid for itself. But as I gaze upon my son’s intense game play, my mind goes back to my teenage years. Home video games systems were extremely primitive by today’s standards. The first game system my parents provided was a black and white game system with a very simple theme. You had two white stick objects (one on each side of the TV screen). Using a game controller, you had to hit a square “ball” to the opposite side of the screen forcing your opponent to volley it back to you or miss hitting it with his/her stick. If the opponent missed, you scored a point. Just like Caleb, this could have my sister, brother, or me in front of the TV set for hours on end.

Ultimately, I was drawn toward the video game arcade in my neighborhood. My parents were very gracious to provide me with a couple of bucks at least once a week. This served a two-fold purpose for my parents. Firstly, it provided me with a safe, legal, and inexpensive form of entertainment. Secondly, for two dollars they could get me out of the house for 2-3 hours. In retrospect, with as much money as they “invested” in my teenage years, it’s a wonder why they don’t have a controlling interest in several video game companies.

The arcade was located in a mini-plaza within short driving distance of my house. There were several suites in the mini-plaza. Unfortunately, I only remember the pizzeria and the arcade. Sometimes, my friends and I would pool our money together to have some pizza then go next door to the arcade.

Aside from the numerous pubescent, pimply faced patrons, there were two primary figures that were constant to the environment. The first is the arcade attendant. The arcade attendant is easily recognized by the uniform vest and pouched apron. The pouched apron contained extra tokens for game play and dollar bills for making change.  The second is the police officer assigned to the mini-plaza. He was a tall, gentle giant of a man whom we all simply addressed as “Sir”. The officer’s job was simple: keep order and make sure people don’t loiter in the parking lot. Most conversations were simple. “Young man, you have to go inside or leave”. “I am waiting for my mother to pick me up, Sir”. You will have to wait INSIDE or LEAVE, young man”.  “Yes, Sir”.

The ritual was simple. You took your dollar bill and placed it into the change machine and received 6 tokens for one dollar. This was a great deal since most games were one token per game credit. I put countless hours over the years playing Berzerk (“Intruder Alert!”), Tempest (“SuperZapper Recharge”), and Bosconian (“Battle Stations”). For two tokens, I could play Dragon’s Lair (“To slay the dragon, use the magic sword”).

There is one night that sticks in my mind very clearly. After, playing all of the aforementioned games, I had one token left and the arcade was closing in ten minutes. I went to my greatest game fixation at that time — Tag Team Wrestling. I figured I could use my last token on a quick game and end my fun night. I sat in the stool and put my token in the coin slot. I started the game and immediately was in my own world. Nothing else around me existed. I was playing my wrestling game with the same intensity that my son guides his hedgehog. I noticed two people standing beside me using my peripheral vision. Steadfast in my game, my eyes were fixated on my wrestling match. Eventually, I lost my final match and my game ended.  I stood up and let out a deep cleansing breath. Then I noticed something. All of the other pubescent, pimply faced patrons had left. The two people at my side were the arcade attendant and Officer Sir. I looked at my watch. The arcade had been closed for fifteen minutes. The arcade attendant and Officer Sir had been kind enough to allow me to finish my game without interrupting me. Office Sir even said “Good game, young man.” “Thank you, sir”.

I walked out the door and got into the 1975 Chevy Vega my sister had allowed me to borrow for the evening. In the morning, I would go back to chasing pretty girls (no tokens required) and planning my next arcade outing. But, in that misaligned 1975 Chevy Vega, I was the Ace of the Arcade. That was better than being King of the World (That’s right. I’m talking to YOU, Jack Dawson).