.comment-link {margin-left:.6em;}

Effortlessly Average

Sort of half-heartedly leading the charge into mediocrity since, oh, let's say around 1987 or so.

My Photo
Location: Roaming (additional charges may apply), Argentina

Proof that with internet access and a powerful laxative, even insipid people will blog; the place where your excellence and my mediocrity collide; where my Karma whips ass on your dogma.

Saturday, February 02, 2008

It's not his concern that you chose to be poor

So, here in the EA household, we have rules:

- No castrating animals without proper supervision
- No pot
- No illegal girl operations on weeknights
- No playing with weapons without full safety's activated
- No bitches after 11pm

Oh, and no rated M games.

The problem with enforcement of this last particular rule is that FlyBoy is now approaching 13. Those of you with offspring orbitting this particular age may know that aside from the near constant, frantic insistence that a cell phone is an imperative for survival, there is also no such thing as a "good" game that is not rated M (or, if said offspring is under 10 years of age, no "good" game that's not rated T).

Still, I resist giving into allowing FlyBoy unfettered access to rated M games because one, he's not 17 and I insist that he not push the adult envelope too soon and two, I'm just a jerk. That's just the kind of parent I am. I mean c'mon, if I couldn't live my dream of being a child actor vicariously through him, then he's not
capping cops and running hookers in South Central L.A. until he's at least 16.

However, I also recognize that video game ratings were designed by
people so uptight that you'd need a tractor to pull a needle from their butt. So when a rated M game comes along that FlyBoy insists he will die without, there is a chance he'll get to at least play it IF we rent it first and check it out. Language and casual references to sex are not so bad; gore, mindless violence, and drug use are out of bounds.

This weekend FlyBoy whined negotiated until I agreed to let him rent
Assassins Creed, including a call to his mother for clearance. We rented it and he holed up in his room for the next 265 hours to master the "art" of stealth, hiding in plain sight, and killing guards who reeeeaaaaly like fine furniture.

Some time later, as is normal when he does something excitable, FlyBoy bursts into my room.

"Dad! Dad! You should have seen this!"

Seen what?

"This old woman, she was following me around everywhere and I couldn't get her to stop..."

[picture me nodding, waiting for the exciting part]

"...and she kept saying to me 'please sir, I need money. I'm sick. I'm hungry. I'm homeless.'"


"And I couldn't get rid of her. So the next time she came beggin' up to me, saying 'please sir, I need money. I'm sick. I'm hungry. I'm homless.' I killed her and said to myself: 'and now you're dead.'"

[now picture me staring at him like he just shot a booger out his nose and it landed on my cheek]

You did what?! I thought the Assassins Creed was that no innocents were to be harmed, ever. I don't want you playing a game that teaches you to harm someone just because they annoy you.

"Yeah, but I couldn't get rid of her."

So you killed her because she was annoying for being poor, hungry and homeless?

"Um, I guess so, yeah."

You know what that makes you, don't you?



The Dark Lord should be coming to collect your soul soon.

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home

- The Number of People Stunned by My Mediocrity