Let me tell you something about a game called Deadly Premonition. It’s pretty damned great, is what. It is a broken game with terrible driving mechanics, questionable character models, some awful dialogue and a jaunty whistling song. It is also the only video game I have ever considered writing a fanfic about because it is amazing. The characters and story are so gripping and bizarre that you can’t help but love it, even if you personally wouldn’t drink a can of straight hollandaise sauce or use a legendary guitar to beat zombies to death.
Mister E told me on New Year’s Day that he had one resolution. I stopped him there and said “you know I hate that phrase, try another.” After a 15 minute diatribe on why I think it’s a terrible thing to make resolutions, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and said “okay, okay, I have a goal. And that goal is to play ALL OF THE VIDEO GAMES.”
Some ladies have a problem with this. They are concerned that every moment their gentleman friend is not complimenting their matching bra/panties set is a moment wasted. I, on the other hand, am perfectly happy to watch the trailer for Lollipop Chainsaw on repeat and can think of nothing I’d like more than to watch my own gentleman play another run through of Deadly Premonition.
Instead, we’ll be spending yet another Friday night watching the guys at Giant Bomb (one of whom I very openly and frequently suspect is the husband of one of my oldest school chums) play through their Endurance Run. It’s like MST3K with video games and hilarious voice-overs.
“I keep these woods nice and murdery.”
“I have a hand…wanna see my hand?”
“WANNA BUY SOME SPEED? DA-DA-DA-DADADA—“
The point here is that everyone has a different idea of what an awesome evening with ones’ loved ones entails and the best way to get on my FOADIAF list is to make fun of mine. I put up with enough of your bullshit at work, I don’t need to carry your baggage home with me. So says Mr. Stewart.