Video Game Clairvoyant
by Phil Wells
The holidays are finally over. I like the holiday season
because I like gifts and egg nog. I also tend to
drink more (egg nog, etc.) during this most wonderful
time of the year, and that suits me just fine. Nothing blasts away the doldrums
of Autumn depression like a few consecutive benders
with close enablers. But, that's just me. A lot of people dig the holidays
because they get to see family. I guess that's cool, but I think family is a
bunch of hype. I didn't exactly choose to be born into this clan. So why should
I be forced to enjoy pie and coffee cordially with you people?
I’m sorry, it’s the truth. If I can’t be
honest today, then when?
The only family member I ever looked forward to seeing every
holiday was Cousin Katherine.
Katherine was cool because she was a video game clairvoyant.
This unique, phenomenal woman knew what the future holds for video games. I was
pushing her on a swing on the second night of Hannuakah
and she casually told me that a few years from then Nintendo would do away with
controllers and the characters in the games would be controlled by players'
bodily functions. Mario would jump extra high if you accidentally pooped
yourself a little. And you know what? I believed her. She was right about the
failure of the Nintendo Power Glove and she'd be right about this, too.
Sure, most of the things she predicted were unlikely.
Katherine told me that moderate Democrats pandering to the heartland would
develop a game with no violence, no rock or rap music, and no bright flashing
lights. Katherine said it would be the best selling game ever. And I believed
her, because Katherine was a good friend.
Most folks scoffed when Katherine told them that on the
hundredth anniversary of the release of Mike Tyson's Punch Out, character Bald
Bull would finally die. And when his wife was asked what the secret to his
longevity was, his wife would say, "He kept fit by beating me daily."
This was just too much information for most squares to process, but me and
Katherine, we had a special bond.
Katherine had a beautiful garden behind her house with lush
green plants and a big pond with those giant goldfish in it. I was 17 and she
was 48, and she said to me, "In the future, in an effort to keep gamers
playing longer, handheld controllers will occasionally inject players with 50mg
of caffeine. Food injections will be in development Hell for weeks before it is
decided that there is no feasible way to keep soy from going rancid when it’s
stored next to a spinning CD-rom drive." That
was the first time I kissed Cousin Katherine with tongue.
Please don’t leave.
I'll never forget the night that changed our lives forever.
We were outside hanging out in the shed on Boxing Day, Katherine and I. She
whispered in my ear, "A waterproof video game for use in the shower will
struggle with sales, until a glory-hole accessory is offered." My hormones
took over, and Uncle Jesse walked in on us as we groped each other playfully.
Just weeks later, our entire family, all of you, invited us to Sid Horvath's Episcopalean Church in Louisville to officially disown both
of us.
We spent years on the road, searching for a town, a people,
a civilization that would accept us for who we were. To keep our spirits
strong, Katherine kept reminding me that one of these days scientists will be
stunned when the prototype for Playstation 12 becomes
self-aware, gets addicted to World of Warcraft, and
dies alone years later. Those words gave me strength. As you know, we
eventually settled here in
I always smile when I think of that first afternoon we spent
here in
That's how spectacular she was.
After our first child, Slow Eddie, was born, she quietly
said these words before she drifted off to sleep in the hospital bed: “The tide
will turn in America’s war against a new Axis of Evil when American engineers
find a way to apply ‘Up, Down, Up, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, B, A,
Select, Start’ to the actual battlefield."
Also, and I've never mentioned this to anyone in public, but
before she pushed me down the stairs to complete our ultimately unsuccessful
life insurance scam, she imparted a final vision for the future. She said,
"The Sims Part 5 will raise its online subscription rate to $1000/month.
Thousands will desert the game, abandoning countless sim-baby
orphans. Lara Croft will breastfeed them all."
Today, we bury Katherine, who we all knew, and who some
loved. I see a lot of family among us who I haven't even heard from in years.
And I know you can find it in your hearts to join me in saying goodbye to
Katherine by joining me in a moment of silence.
[Silence. Uncle Jesse farts deftly.]
Thank you. And now, in closing, I would like to read to you
Katherine's final prophecy, directly from her last will and testament:
"One day games will be published on media small enough
to fit through the eye of a needle. Halo junkies will sniff lines of the game
and report that “It’s just not the same” before their lungs are cut to a liquidy pulp."
Goodbye, Katherine, my love. And now the Sweeney House Man's
Choir will sing "Danny Boy." Everyone please kneel.