Saturday 23 October 2010

Gaming without Frontiers, war with points

Blood and thunder and an 18 warning. My boy is more high tech'd wired for sound, that there is no cables and I am sufficiently in touch with the technologiacl advanced age that I know not to expect rabbits and whites doves miraculously coming from teenage sleeves.

I find a teenager twitching on a couch, doing dirty deeds that need doing on a global scale. I am a child of another generation of whatever happened to a likely old football, a park, pullovers for a post and heavy dose of flu for two weeks.

There on the teenage couch are internet microphones allowing international communication, to whom?
Other international teenagers who can be heard greeting kills, like a viet vet on the wrong side of a stressful situation.
These teenagers or toddlers, who knows, wi-fi'd for sound.
Kids sounding quite squeaky because voices are squeaky and by all things toddler as yet unbroken, in fact as squeaky as a toddler with a birthday cake candles to unlight several times.
Teenagers sounding hard in queaky voices are not cutting the mustard but ar hez cutting a destiny.
Hard in their comfort zones of a home.
There are points given to each kill against a squeaky aggresive commentary.
Post traumatic stress is not on the agenda even if athritus is.

To the plot this morning in the Pryce abode, "big-time" victor gloating causes an exchange of E-mails. Swear words are exchanged via the next set of E-mails online in real-time from the safety of a non-de-plume and an unknown geography, but probably a big brother will need a few bus trips to avenge family honour here.

This is unreal, this begs a change in the world order, a return to the flesh and bullets hurt, eyeball to eyeball realism where an eye for an eye brings a painful reality, that it hurts and therefore should not be done. Instead an electronic ether divides them to be safe in nastiness

Back in the day space invaders met this criteria, the nerd was out there in the open, and he was not a nerd he was a out-there a hero. The lip smoking - digit twitching guy up to no good in the local pub staring at a fake electronic world with a aged wall as backdrop; and when there was homework to do.

This old gun-kill play appeared sufficiently and obviously play and nowadays I don't know. Nowadays it is in the home and realistic beyond comprehension and resurrection is guaranteed as long as the electricity bill is paid.

I bought the games.




No comments:

Post a Comment