...out of 6! What do you take me for?

Silly scoring drama aside, I just wanted to share my first few hours with the game. It's wonderful and very much like a bigger, badder version of Mario and Luigi. I mean, almost everything is the same, from the quirky humor, to the fighting elements, to the in-game puzzles.

Let's humor the haters for a moment though. Let's take these "kiddie" accusations seriously. I think it's pretty amazing, what Nintendo has going here, because almost every game has this unbelievable appeal to small children. It's not just the bright colors, because other games have them too. There's something unique to the first party GameCube games that can keep a child of any age absolutely riveted for hours. It reminds me of how a psychology-major friend of mine told me that the reason small babies stare at my face and giggle is not because I'm particularly funny looking, but because they are engaged by the stark contrast of black and white. Being Greek and a hermit, you get in me about as strong a contrast of black and white as is physically possible.

I'm old enough now not to be insulted by any accusations of childlike behavior (in fact I'm so old that I'm starting to really welcome it). When someone tells me that I like a game that is "kiddie", I have to wonder what they mean by that. While mature often takes on two meanings (1. old enough to view the violence 2. complex and intricate--mature in a really snobby sense of the word), I think "kiddie" rarely is. Paper Mario is an intricate game with some very diverse elements, that happens to have a coating of sunshine on top. It's mature in almost every aspect except the color palette. And in turn, I'm mature enough to be okay with that.

My boyfriend, a.k.a. my frugal half, plays many of the games that I buy and forget about, or that I have no intention of playing, such as really complicated RPGs. When considering my DS purchase (which I have reserved--prompted by all the new great coverage), he asked me how he was going to play any of the games that I would likely buy and abandon on the shelf.

He’s one of four lefties in a nuclear family, and so far gaming has never been difficult for him, because he has managed to work around it. However, when it comes to writing utensils, there’s no negotiating his preference. He’s as rigid about it as I would be. There’s no way I could maneuver a pen (or stylus) with my left hand, nor he with his right. So when he asked me how he would be able to play the DS, I was honestly at a loss for words.

My uneducated opinion (and forgive me if there has been an announcement related to this) is that they have three options.

1. They create a leftie DS. This seems the least likely of the three, because that’s certainly not very cost efficient. It would be a neat consideration though if there’s no other way to accommodate the other-handed.

2. They offer the ability to reverse map the controls. I don’t know if this could even work, with an eight directional d-pad being mapped onto four face buttons, but that seems to be the cheapest of the considerate solutions.

3. They do nothing. While I suspect this is really the final answer, and that Nintendo’s official response might be that lefties will just have to learn how to use their right hand for the limited stylus use, it kind of sucks. Nintendo, I thought you were the friendly company. Please say this isn’t so!

Since I've taken only physics and astronomy classes in college, and graduation requires at least two different fields in the natural sciences, I find myself in Physical Geology this semester, an introductory class for non-science majors. I would have taken something much cooler like Organic Chemistry, but this was the only class that fit in my schedule and it's a guaranteed A. I hate being around all these freshmen and science-haters though.

In my lab for the class, I sit in the back next to this guy who from now on shall be referred to as "The Jock". He's your typical meathead, shouts things out in class, generally annoys the lab teacher, thinks he's being charming, and checks out all the girls to see if they notice him. I usually get along with guys like "The Jock" because they're just amazed that some girl won't put up with their antics, and they like being talked back to. Thankfully, I have never found "The Jock" or any of his kind attractive.

On the other side of "The Jock" sits "The Nerd". He's shy and generally sweet, behaves well in class, laughs at his own jokes, and is genuinely good-hearted. I try to be partners in lab with "The Nerd" because I know we'll finish more quickly and he'll focus more on the work than on the butt of the girl who dropped her pen. Usually though, I end up being partners with both "The Jock" and "The Nerd", which has led to me this sad observation.

"The Nerd" thinks "The Jock" is just the coolest guy in the whole world. "The Jock" didn't show up to lab last week and "The Nerd" was kind of sad about it. "Where is he?" "He's funny!" he claimed over the course of the two hour session. "No, he's loud and annoying, there's nothing funny about that." I retorted. The Nerd corrected himself, "Oh, but he's cool". "No! That's exactly what isn't cool!" I tried to explain to him, but "The Nerd" just wouldn't get it.

Now that I'm fully versed in Aristotle's Ethics, let me impart you with this one virtue. No matter how rough it is in high school or college, no matter if you're a nerd or a jock, don't turn into one of those loud-smart-mouthed jerks, because in the long run, it's better to be a nice person than mildly amusing. Take it from me, I'm an old lady and I've seen a few things. Class clowns are worth mild entertainment now and then, but being good is forever.

The latest issue of OPM has a playable demo of Metal Gear Solid 3, the exact same demo I played at E3 actually, but now I get to play with Snake in the privacy of my own home (and a very private thing it is too).

I am a self-proclaimed cutscene skipper, because I find most video game stories ridiculous. While I loved the story from Metal Gear Solid and tried to watch most of Metal Gear Solid 2, near the end I absolutely skipped cut-scenes, I had to if my love was going to remain intact. Anyway the club of Metal-Gear-loving-nerds has made me feel plenty guilty about that fact, so I was absolutely intent on watching the entire demo. It wouldn't be too hard, I thought. It's just a demo.

Oh Hideo Kojima, how you test me. That was the most long-winded lecture about honor to one's country that I've ever heard. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get me to run out and vote for that draft bill. "Please! Chart me off to a foreign land! Take away my personal rights and my family! I LOVE MY COUNTRY!" Not so. In fact, now I'm even more resolved to taking whatever means necessary to enjoy this game. If that means skipping through some extra-long codec scenes, then so be it.

Snake, dear, I love you, but all I want is for you to shut up and run around shirtless.

I had Donkey Konga preordered for months, because frankly I loved playing the game at E3, and because I'm still regretting the fact that I don't own Samba de Amigo.

Maybe I haven't explored it enough, there certainly seem to be a ton of little hidden goodies throughout the game, but it's definitely a lot more fun with a huge crowd of people watching. It's one of those "performance games". When I play it at home, I feel like turning around and giving a long bow, but there's nobody to applaud. It's fun, but I need more drums, more people, and more alchohol... Well, I always need more alchohol.

It's making me rethink picking up Karaoke Revolution 2, though. Can those games truly be enjoyable without other people around to heckle and cheer you? I'm about to find out. This weekend needs to consist of a lot of Japanese homework, but the rest of it is free to be filled with Donkey Konga and Katamari Damacy. And if I have to buy my own laugh-track, then so be it.

I don't know many people who can appreciate the importance of this news, or moreover its importance to me, so I thought I'd scribble it down here, because at least everyone reading this can understand my excitement.

Today my first mobile review for GameSpot and WGamer was posted. It's the first of a few that I have been contracted to do, and hopefully many more will come. I'm really grateful for this opportunity, for the people who have trusted me, and I sincerely hope that in return I can provide insightful and well-written reviews for a company that I respect so deeply.

The first time I ever saw Katamari Damacy I had one single thought, "I used to do that to my Lucky Charms!" So this week when it took me a whole five days after its release to find the game, I had to buy a box of Lucky Charms just to tide me over. 


Wheee! That looks delicious, but also slightly disturbing.

But that's really just a segue into a more important topic that has been mentioned by other people around here.

It took me five whole days to find Katamari Damacy in the Northern Virginia area. Although it showed up in both Gamestop and Electronics Boutique's computers, it was unavailable for preorder at any of my local stores. (Which is miraculous considering how much these companies love to whore out their preorders.) Then it didn't show up in any stores whatsoever until four days after it shipped. When it did, they sent three copies to one out of twenty stores in the area. While other stores claim to have copies on the way, it's absolutely inexcusable for a game not to appear in retail stores until a week after its release.

What's sad is that even though I was willing to drive some ways to get the remaining copy of the game at the one store that got it last week, too many other people aren't. And while I have genuinely enjoyed playing it so far, how can I recommend a game that will never be in stock? This is an easy game to recommend to people, because while it's really silly, it's still quite fun, and it's only twenty dollars. How can anyone go wrong buying it? Well they certainly can't if it's not around for them to buy.

It's just so unfortunate when I consider the string of games that are sitting on the shelves, unplayable, unrecommendable, and fully in stock. I hope Katamari sees some increased shipments after the guaranteed success of their first batch, the game certainly deserves as much.

I had planned this morning to pick up Katamari Damacy and write a nice long post about it this evening, but I was thwarted by its low priority mailing status. Either that or none of the local game stores ever plan on getting it; in which case I'm going to be mad. Instead I thought I would briefly address the moderator thing since I've been getting a lot of messages about it and I'm totally not doing my set theory homework as a result.

I've been reading GameSpot for something like five years now, but I honestly haven't kept track. Although I'm normally a chatty person, and I signed up for the forums a few years ago (under my former alias, Trixie), I never posted much until post-lithium. Frankly I think these forums are vastly superior.

I know a lot about video games and I think I'm pretty decent at communicating. If you have any questions about anything or need help with the forums, that's why I accepted the moderator position in the first place. Feel free to contact me by any of the means in my profile.

I was sitting in class the other day, sprawled across the chair, when I happened to get a glimpse of what I was wearing. I had on a PS2-controller-MLB-logo shirt courtesy of Gameskins, a Ninja Gaiden wristband, and my keys were dangling out of my pocket on a Nintendo lanyard. My Aggressive Inline bike messenger bag had both a GBA SP and an N-gage inside of it; there was my NES controller wallet and no fewer than ten games stuffed in the front pocket. Peeking out of my backpack was a Gamestop (spot...stop...spot) bag with Fable inside. On the desk was my Nokia water bottle.

Talk about wearing your politics on your sleeve.

Almost everything I own screams video-game-aholic. From my wardrobe, to the stickers, to the magazine cutouts that I have plastered on everything, to every single piece of pre-order kitsch that has come out in the past five years. If you don't know that I am a video game fan within the first four seconds of looking at me, you must not know what a video game is.

Males 13-30, look at me knowingly. They have that "hey, I know what game you were playing last night" twinkle in their eye. Twenty-something college chicks just love to watch me play the SP. "Oh my god! What is that? It is sooooo cute!" (Men, take heed) It's like video gamers have their own universal fraternity/sorority, only it's not horribly cliquish and the only requirements for getting in is that you must be a huge geek and want other people to know it. When I see someone wearing video game apparel, I feel instantly connected to them. We have something in common, and it means a lot more than three arbitrary Greek letters.

Although I'm usually quite opposed to the notion of sororities in the first place, if I could join one where we all hung around, played sixteen player Halo, dressed up in each other's Soul Calibur t-shirts, did our makeup like Lulu, and didn't try to steal each other's boyfriends, well that wouldn't be so bad.

The classic example, perhaps the one that opened the floodgates, was Prince of Persia. Of course, this was not the first time I ever spoke to my video games, but it was certainly the most distinct. I was, undoubtably, wrapped up in the story. Each time that I paused the game the Prince would charmingly say, "Shall I go on?" Without skipping a beat I would reply, "Yes, just a minute."

I don't know if I was aware of the fact until I heard audible scoffs from witnesses. When faced with the idea that my behavior was strange, I did what any normal person would do. I did it more. "Hang on a second!" rang out my voice from the kitchen to the Prince who was impatiently waiting on the pause screen. "Don't start without me!" I would joke and be faced with unamused glares.

Despite the fact that conversations with my Prince were often dialogues (if that can be said about conversation with AI) I didn't even need a response to keep talking once I had started. I often scolded my cat in The Sims no differently than if he were real, "Why are you peeing everywhere, I haven't even fed you yet!" "There's no way I'm going to stay around and fight you guys again," I declared as I ran past the cat women in Ninja Gaiden. This dialogue, once restrained to my thoughts, was running rampant. Designers everywhere were dancing in the streets.

I bring this up now because Fable is the ultimate game for video-game-conversationalists. Although most of the language I use when talking to characters in the game can't be reprinted here, for filter reasons, it often goes something like this: "I'm not a chicken chaser you $*@!#" or "Stop stealing my kills you %#*&!" or "Yeah you're not so bad yourself." I think it's a great testimony to a game's ability to create atmosphere, if you forget your surroundings and begin a dialogue with the in-game characters.

So remember, it's permissible, perhaps even cool, to talk to your video games, unless perhaps you're playing Singles or Leisure Suit Larry. Some things are better off left unsaid.