Apart from a short flirtation with a Nintendo handset in the early 1990s, I can’t claim to be a gamer.
Probably just as well. With my anorak tendencies and borderline OCD (I like to call it determination and bloody mindedness) there’s every chance I’d become obsessed.
From there it would be a rapid descent and before long I’d be a chubby, straggly-haired, pop-eyed, socially inept and basement-dwelling cliche (the kind that all gamers were tainted with, before geekery somehow became trendy). Not a good look.
All in all I’ve always been a bit sniffy about ‘video games’. At times I’ve thought the notion of ‘professional gamers’ is an insult to the evolutionary splendour of the opposable thumb. To think, millions of years of in the making and the pinnacle of natural selection has been achieved to let mumbling teens make a screen flash faster and call it Halo 4. Tchoh. Continue reading