BY FLETCHER WORTMANN

In print | Published November 6, 2008

We all have vices, and in the wild world of college, we are instructed to indulge them shamelessly. But, of course, this is Swarthmore, and the strongest narcotic available is free ibuprofen distributed by matronly health-center attendants. Here the sex is infrequent and oppressive, inextricably psychologically linked with getting bonked in the head by neon condoms during the freshman orientation play; the drugs are nonexistent; the rock ‘n roll is performed a capella in five-part harmony by girls in matching purple sweaters. With conventional avenues of reality-modification closed, Swarthmore students must seek out alternative addictions. And, as always, we succeed. You see the junkies here every day. Our skin is sallow and our eyes red, our thumbs convulsing at imaginary buttons, slaying invisible Metroids against the sulphur skies of planet Zebes. We are broken, hearts depleted, and lives lost. I am talking about our universal indulgence. I am talking about video games.

You scoff. But, you insist, “I am one of the popula’ kids! I have a girlfriend, and I have seen her while she is not wearing a shirt, several times even! I play sports, Fletcher. Sports.” But we are undeniably addicted to electronic entertainment in all of its insidious forms. Yes, fantasy golf is a video game, that thing online where you shuffle little pixelly gems around until they explode into arbitrary numbers is a video game, and I’m not entirely sure what Interpretation Theory is but it sounds like it could be a video game even if it isn’t. Also consider Facebook, wherein one collects a mercenary menagerie of freakish, brightly-colored characters that do little other than chirp their own names over and over again. These lovable and highly marketable creatures can be collected, traded, photographed (snap!) and then ruthlessly judged for their aesthetic qualities; given proper time and experience, they may even evolve into biophysicists or temporary accountants. Of course these two-dimensional virtual familiars aren’t quite the same as “actual friends,” but hey! Gotta catch ’em all! None of us are immune to this kind of thing. I am an irredeemable geek and I am willing to admit this in a public forum, but not without dragging every one of you repressed degenerates down with me.

That being said, video games are awesome. They are engaging, they promote proper hand-eye coordination or something, they are incredibly entertaining, and they also silence the endless sobbing voices in my head better than a thousand packets of free ibuprofen. Everyone should play video games. As a trusted journalist, it is my responsibility to guide my peers towards quality entertainment, with the impartial, understated approach my columns are known for. That said, here are descriptions of the three major game systems currently available, two of which are produced by massive faceless corporate behemoths and one of which lets you wave your arms around and is the origin of all joy.

The Sony Playstation 3 is the most notorious of modern systems. It is also the most expensive, costing something in the range of seven hundred billion dollars, although as an alternate payment method, Sony has agreed to accept their customers’ personal submission to sexual slavery, in addition to offering a very generous black-market kidney exchange program (gamers who convince a friend to trade in organs will also receive a coupon good for a free copy of “Soul Calibur IV” at participating locations). The Playstation 3 is the most powerful system currently on the market, with lower-end models possessing not one but several giga-things of memory, and is roughly the size of a small Honda. Indeed, I encourage any and all liberal arts students who can afford to spend six hundred dollars on a video game system in our current economy to immediately rush out and buy one.

The X-Box 360 is known for its utterly confounding name, which proclaims to be cubical, cross-shaped and spherical simultaneously. The “X” may be intended to signify “extremity” of some sort, and the “360” some kind of snowboarding trick a person might perform twenty feet in the air while drinking an energy drink and high-fiving a ninja. Of course, since the system is produced by those counterculture badasses at Microsoft, the name is entirely appropriate. The X-Box is known for its high failure rate, although this may be deliberate, as the only thing more extreme than killing aliens with an assault rifle is doing so using a video game system that has spontaneously burst into flames. Also, the X-Box features the game “Bioshock,” a first-person shooting game that incorporates a critique of writer Ayn Rand. Microsoft has yet to release “Remembrance of Things Ultimate” or “F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Legend of Zelda,” but announcements are surely forthcoming.
The final company currently producing consoles is the ancient and venerable Nintendo, producers of the beloved Nintendo Wii. Ah, yes. The Nintendo Wii. Say its name slowly. It’s okay, no one’s looking. Say it. Nin. Ten. Doh. Wiiiii. My sin, my soul. It is undoubtedly the most subtle and sumptuous of video game consoles. You want to curl up with it at night and whisper secrets to it as you fall asleep, not that I have done so more than once or twice. The Wii is notable for its unique controls, where a motion-sensing remote is used to direct your character inevitably into pits of spikes or molten rock. The Wii also has the game “Super Smash Brothers Brawl.” I love “Super Smash Brothers Brawl.” It is fantastic. It is like sex, if sex somehow involved explosions and hammers and Italian stereotypes fighting transvestite ninjas fighting giant inflatable penguins on top of a spaceship. It is like a gentle summer rain on your face, or like a symphony.

I hope I have helped you to make an informed decision. If one is to waste life and shrivel brain cells (and one is!), then one should only employ the highest-quality entertainment equipment. Friends and family will age and die, but the unrequited love of decades-old Japanese intellectual properties is forever. It cannot be bought, except for the fact that it can be bought for $249.99 plus tax. We can try to find meaning in the company of others, in self-expression, or in social service. But let me tell you, my friends: that princess is in another castle.

Fletcher is probably old enough to know better. Other literary game titles he considered for this article included Catch-666, Pride and Extreme Prejudice, and Super Karamazov Brothers. You can reach him at fwortma1@swarthmore.edu.

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