Too Old to Frag

I recently went to my friendly local GameStop and traded in my copy of Call of Duty: Black Ops. Not because I didn’t like the game, because I did. But because I sucked at it. A lot. It appears that I am too old to frag.

Some qualifiers. First of all I am, at best, what could be classified as a “casual” gamer. Hand/eye coordination has never been my particular forte, in fact, coordination of any sort fairly eludes me (I cannot, for instance, ride a bike). I play video games not to seek any sort of challenge, but to relax. I think it’s telling that I never “beat” a game on my old NES or Playstation systems. Until the option to set your difficulty level came along, I was forced to play the games until hitting a brick wall of difficulty where frustration would lead me to some sort of rage fueled rampage against my controller. Not fun.

So when given the option to adjust difficulty on a game, I always go for “Casual”. If “Mewling Pussy Wimp” was an option, I would take it, and happily do so. But in deference to the flimsy scraps of ego that even rudimentarily skilled players like myself are assumed to possess, such honesty is usually eschewed.

I love it when games adjust the difficulty FOR you. When you have died at a given choke point SO many times that the game actually takes pity on you and ratchets down the intensity to a point where even a spastic like me can still pull off some measure of success. That feels so… well, not “good”, precisely, but at least there is the pleasure of surrender. The knowledge that the game agrees that you do, in fact, suck at this.

In addition to my lack of skill, I am always behind the curve on acquisition of new games. I am just not hardcore enough about gaming that I need to be an early adopter. As opposed to comics, where if I do not get my new books on Wednesday, I start to have the DTs. There are exceptions to the “Johnny come lately” rule of game purchase for me, of course. I bought Dragon Age 2 the day it came out, fueled by a deep love for the franchise, and a knowledge that if I didn’t, I would need to use a ball-gag on certain of my friends to keep them from spoiling the game for me (I am looking at you, Manny and Amanda).

The end result of not getting in on the ground floor is that, by the time I purchase the game and join the online community, the tiers of skill are already firmly established. And I wallow in the shallow end of the pool, where few still remain. So I face skilled ninja assassins who know all the ins and outs of the game, and seem to find hidey-holes and sniper points with something akin to genetic memory. While I run in a circle shooting into the air and trying to remember which button lets me jump.

Anyway, neither of those qualifiers really explains why I felt the need to abandon ship on Black Ops. Sucking at multiplayer shooters is not necessarily an impediment for success at the game. I tend to prefer support roles in games like this, anyway, avoiding modes like Deathmatch which reward base aggression and flawless motor control, and instead go for modes like Headquarters or Domination, where success can be attained by a willingness to fling oneself to the ground and pray that you are not shot.

In modes where a victory can only be achieved through wholesale slaughter, I will, almost without fail, fall into the “hunted” category, as opposed to the “hunter”. First of all, we have the aforementioned motor skills issue. Then to add insult to injury (literally), I only have ONE GOOD EYE. I watch the kill-cams sometimes after being mercilessly picked off, and have no idea how I was shot. It literally looks to me like the other player is firing at empty air.

Jenny listened to me complain about how badly I sucked and tried to console me – “Baby, you’re almost 40, and you have ONE EYE. You’re not SUPPOSED to be any good.” Then I had to tell her what really stung. While playing a multiplayer session where my performance was somewhere below abysmal, I overheard the other members of my team talking on team chat. About me. And about how badly I sucked. And about how, at the end of the match, they were all leaving the game, lest they be saddled with me again.

Fear and shame overtook me, along with distinct memories of grade school games of kickball where I excluded myself, after learning the harsh lesson that joy and enthusiasm for the game where useless commodities when not paired with skill. Jenny found this out and immediately tried to punch Xbox live in the face. I told her that technology didn’t exist yet. She suggested we buy a Kinect.

As we discussed it, I realized that statistically speaking, most of the other players were in their teens. And that, if they lived on the East Coast, there was a chance that I had made out with at least ONE of their mothers. That made me feel a little bit better.

But the long and the short of it is that I decided to trade Black Ops in. I am happier for it, a knot of tension having relieved itself, and my leisure hours returning to something more like “fun” and less like “self-flagellation”. At least until Gears of War 3 comes out, and the cycle begins anew.

I HAVE NOT SEEN GREEN LANTERN

And I likely will not, because Pat Loika said it was awful. And Pat’s enthusiasm for comics is such that it allows him to forgive many otherwise unpardonable sins of cinema when it comes to comic book movies. For Pat to say it sucks is to say that it, truly, deeply, irredeemably sucks.

THE DC COMICS RELAUNCH

I was intending to do a whole blog about the DC comics relaunch, but at this point, I think everything that could be said has been said. Gail Simone nailed down what was bothering me the most – namely, the paucity of female creators. There are titles I am genuinely excited about – Resurrection Man, Swamp Thing  - But those titles didn’t need a reboot to happen, so DC could have had my money without possibly alienating all their existing core audience. Obviously, we will all have to wait and see.

READ MORE COMICS

Mystery Men #1 by David Liss and Patrick Zircher is a really good time. Liss has been tasked to create a group of new pulp-influenced characters to become part of Marvel continuity, and so far, he is doing an awesome job with it. Not to mention that Zircher’s art is gorgeous. I love stuff like this and Hickman’s S.H.I.E.L.D., playing with the “secret history” of the Marvel Universe, and adding such cool toys to the sandbox. And I have a deep and abiding love and fascination for the pulp heroes, ever since my grandmother bought me a series of tapes of old radio serials when I was a kid. I used to sit and play with Legos for hours and listen to old Shadow and Green Hornet adventures. So Mystery Men #1 is factory installed with things that delight me.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have a gigantic man-crush on Pat Zircher. Besides being a fantastic artist, he is also a really nice guy. He has been incredibly supportive of my fumbling attempts to “make it” into the comics business, and has given me tons of patience and volumes of really solid advice. Pat’s a top-shelf human being, and I will fight any man who says different.

Hugs and kisses,

(The)Travis