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Confessions from a 42-Year-Old Gamer

12/08/2013 by C.






I have enjoyed playing video games since I was a little kid. Back in the day, I was all about my Atari and as the years went by, Nintendo and then Playstation. As a full-blown adult, I allowed myself to purchase a PS3 AND a XBox 360. They were mainly used for parties I would have occasionally (there’s no party like an American Idol karaoke party, people) and for my niece and nephew to play with when they visit. I couldn’t sit more than an hour and play by myself. Until now…

Two co-workers and I have discovered online gaming. Our game is Call of Duty Modern Warfare 3. We are full-blown crazies, having ordered the headsets so we can talk to each other while playing. My gamer name is “HeartyPrincess” (I would like to say I would have NEVER picked that name for myself…the stupid computer did and they want $10 to allow me to change it). I hate my name but it was quickly changed by my buddies to something far more appropriate for me…”Farty Princess”.

You might wonder why we need to speak to each other as we play. Well, we coordinate mainly.

“Farty, you take the right corner and we will be over here in the opposite corner. Fire at will!!!” JimyJ will say to me.

“Jimy, watch out for “YoMama1″, bastard has a shield! Emptied a clip on him and he still killed me!” I screamed last night.

Solidrude is normally a very quiet man in real life, but goes insane when blown up by a helicopter. “Damn it, Jimy, get your grenade launcher and go blow his ass up!”

We also discuss things like which ice cream bar is best. After a long discussion it was agreed the Snickers ice cream bar wins narrowly against the Magnum bars. Important stuff, people.

My gaming skills are not good at all, but I am good at sitting and snipping people. I will sit in a corner the whole time and shoot people as they run around a corner. I am somehow not coordinated enough to run and shoot accurately. When I have played that way, the most damage I do is shooting off a couple of their toes or possibly giving them a flesh wound, as they unload their clip on my head. That doesn’t make for a very fun time.

I have gone from not being able to sit and play for more than an hour to playing at least five to six hours at a time. I get mad when I have to take a bathroom break. If I could pee in a cup, that would be awesome (I think that might be what my teammates are doing…they very rarely leave the game for anything). It is nothing for me to go to bed at midnight to be up at six to go to work. I have somehow turned into a thirteen-year-old boy. I am not proud of this…just the facts.

As I am writing this, my phone is blowing up with text messages.

“Get online! Let’s play!!!!” sent from Jimy.

“I am writing at the moment, maybe later,” I reply.

“Nooooooooooo! Come on, I’m getting slaughtered!” he replies.


No man left behind…I’ve got to go save him. The life of a Staff Sergeant is never dull, my friends.






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