- Don’t even try to look up this duo. Their two releases were of an extremely limited distribution exclusive to friends and family.
I spent a lot of time with my younger cousins during my time in Iowa. Actually, on that branch of the family, all of my cousins are younger because I’m the oldest grandchild. This means that, in lieu of adult supervision, I’m the one in charge. I’m the one who makes sure things are cleaned up before the parents get back, I make sure everyone gets an equal amount of time with the PS2 (and that the video zombies occasionally break their gamer fasting during their marathons).
I am the biggest kid at the little table, the one who will help build – and later rebuild – the train sets, the one who settles the flights (even tough I’m no longer the tallest one).
It’s a sweet gig.
Of course, with great powers comes great responsibility. There are some extra burdens one must undertake.
One the unexpected challenges I had came in expressing myself. Those who spend time around me know I largely avoid strong words. I think people should be able to express themselves without resorting to vulgarities.
That being said, I’m human and they are in my mental database. Stuff slips out. My mother and I learned a lot about each other’s vocabulary when I first got driving lessons (and I’m still not sure who was shocked more). I’ve been told that some of the words I wince at aren’t really bad, but I since I hold myself to a strict standard I often instantly regret my usage of them.
This is further heightened when I’m around young, potentially impressionable children. Granted, I know electronic media will teach them more about cursing, violence, sex, and other commonly displayed behaviors, but I’d like to keep my sphere of influence a clean bubble.
Playing one-on-one-on-one deathmatches tested me a bit more than I would have originally guessed.
I was working hard to teach one of my younger cousins both strategy and gamer etiquette. He prescribed to the “If it moves, shoot at it” modus operandi. This is the first approach most gamers take, largely because that’s how the game is set up. When one seeks to introduce variations on the theme through stealth, teamwork, and varying tactics, a young gamer can become frustrated – especially when pitted against older gamers.
My 13-year-old cousin (who’s about to turn 14) is the sharpest shooter. He has grown up among gaming devices and has a well developed hand-eye coordination. I am the strategerist. The only gaming system that was ever in my home was an old Atari that at one point would only work during inclement weather. I grew up around books and “thinking” computer games that emphasized problem solving over growing body counts. With our areas of expertise, and the extra years we have of gaming beneath our belt, we have a bit of an advantage over our younger cousin.
He was a quick learner, however. Though sometimes stubborn, he did pick up advice on flanking and multi-pronged attacks, and learning when to press an advantage versus dropping back to regroup. Though our encouragement, through both verbal advice and video game headshots, he noticeably improved during our sessions. At the end of our time together, his team was routinely winning. For the sake of fairness, the youngest and eldest gamers teamed up against the middle, straightest shooter gamer. It is my opinion that this match-up was genuinely fair in the long run (for we were routinely beaten at first and progressively became more dominant).
Of course, tempers sometimes spike in a game like this. If you get driven over after you’ve discussed the “no hit and run kills,” you’re likely to get irked. If you just upgraded a killer weapon and got sniped so that someone else gets to take it, you might get steamed. When your character re-spawns in the cross hairs of an opponent who just offed them, such irony isn’t appreciated. Sometimes, if you’ve accidentally drove into a mud pit and drowned again – after specifically requesting a game zone that didn’t have any water hazards – putting your feelings into words is troublesome.
Venting during such times is important, but must be done so gracefully – especially since certain phrases have the habit of being repeated by younger listeners (“gamer fasting” and “Pea shooter vs. tank” became often repeated comments that I’m fairly sure my cousins picked up from me).
To conclude, here is my short list of alternative curses I employed to protect sensitive ears:
“Friggin’” – yes, I know this is a stronger term in certain European countries. But it’s as harmless as “shag” in the U.S. of A.
“Halfscan” – this is an insult I picked up in the mid-nineties from a Marvel comic book. I’m still not quite sure what it means.
“Blücher” – as in Frau Blücher from “Young Frankenstein,” just without the following thunder and neighing of horses.
“Glarg” - Guttural nonsense in the same category as “flurgle,” “glerg, ”and “ug.”
“By all that is sweet and Tony Danza…” - Not that I’m necessarily implying Mr. Who’s the Boss isn’t sweet.
“Son of a…” - Typically cut off before completed, leaving one with an aura of mystery (“What is he a son of? A gun? Sea cook?”).
“Schubert” – This is an old inside joke. Maybe. Is it still an inside joke if you're the only one who remembers the pun? Well, maybe me and Eddie “Van Pyro.” Yeah... I'm fairly sure it's just me.
Swedish ramblings - or at least the quasi-accent used by the Muppets’ Swedish Chef (“Her dersky du. Herdy flersky de bork bork bork!”)
Random presidential names – Of course, I get mixed up from time to time (“Oh, Gregory Cleveland! No wait. It was Grover Cleveland.”
“Jerk” – the classic, straightforward slam that won’t force you to gargle soap for your exhortation (or for the proclamations of other who overheard you when you should have known better).
