Just over five years ago I met a man. We moved in together. That's when I first met the other person in the relationship, the Xbox. I went through the usual stages of grief after realising this other "thing" would be my competition for attention. Denial, shock; anger led to a threat to cut up the console if DIY jobs were not done. None of this worked. Then came acceptance. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
I remember asking to be shown how to play, and grumpily made it through the first Gears of War 2 chapter. I couldn't coordinate looking, walking and firing a gun. It felt nerdy, ridiculously complicated and pointless. And then there was the game itself. Full of ego cut scenes of soldiers on steroids looking tearful in a manly way as their home planet gets ripped apart by insects.
I then began having fun. Not only through learning how to play well and therefore regularly beating my now husbands gaming arse, so to speak, but I take absolute joy in verbally ripping apart many of the games I play. Why? Because no one seems to notice that B movies have better plots.
This is game reviewing - female style
