Video game arms race

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Western nations can rest assured: Our video games are the most powerful and awesome in the world. (JAE C. HONG / THE ASSOCIATED PRESS ARCHIVES)

My son is one of those unfortunate kids whose birthday falls within shouting distance of Christmas.

Are we terrible parents, or what? My son has never forgiven us for being so thoughtless as to give birth to him within a month of the major gift-giving time of year. It's clear to him that, gift-wise, he's getting short-changed.

So this year we decided to splurge. We bought him a hideously expensive video game system, the kind of video game system that, when you look at the sticker price, you recoil in horror the way you did when you bought your first car.

My son loves video games. He's addicted. I know what the rest of you Modern Parents are thinking. You are thinking: "Gee, Doug, if your son was a junkie would you run out and buy him a big bag of crack cocaine?"

I am, of course, ashamed. I know video games are mindless and violent and antisocial, meaning they're a lot like our kids. Before you get all high and mighty, let me point out we didn't buy our son THAT video game system.

No, he already has THAT system. We bought him one of the other horribly expensive systems. We did this because our son -- this is very painful to admit -- had a DIFFERENT system than some of his closest friends, which meant they couldn't hook up over the Internet and, in the spirit of true friendship, try to kill each other.

No, because he had a different system, if he wanted to play with his pals, he'd have to get off the couch, leave the house, drive to his friend's home, where he and his friend would physically be in the same room and (oh no!) have to think of actual things to say to one another, just like those of us born before the invention of Pong were forced to do.

The point is, my son is happy now. At least I assume he is. You see, we don't talk much now that he has a system that allows him to link up with his buddies over the World Wide Web, spy on the Kremlin and destroy entire star systems.

The Boy has been sitting in the den for about a week, playing games, not eating, not talking, hoodie pulled over his head like an insane monk. Occasionally, I'll wander into the den and try to strike up a conversation.

I'll sniff the air in a suspicious manner. "Hey," I will say to my son, "I smell smoke. I think the dog is on fire!"

My son will ignore this and keep hammering at the game controller with his thumbs, which, through continual use, are now the size and thickness of piano legs.

Then, pulling the curtains aside and peering out the window, I will exclaim: "I REALLY wish the neighbour's daughter would buy herself a much larger bikini!!!"

It will go on like this until, eventually, I admit defeat and go watch TV in the basement, on our old TV, the one that's not nearly big enough to play games on, leaving my son no choice but to commandeer the big TV in the den.

The typical game my son plays involves controlling a little soldier or robot or zombie who is armed with an arsenal of futuristic weapons that would make a Somali warlord green with envy. The object is to kill as many of the bad guys as possible before they kill you.

These games are packed with mindless blood and gore, which means they are a LOT less violent and more educational than most of the stuff on TV today, especially the news. Another benefit is the fact they contain less swearing than a single episode of a Food Network show featuring celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay.

Regardless of what my wife says, I'm a fairly tech-savvy dad. I have a cellphone AND a computer. But I can't figure out my son's video game system.

I even watched him set it up. He input incomprehensible codes containing most of the major letters in the alphabet, followed by a series of rapid-fire, machine-gun-style keystrokes. I could not have done this even if terrorists were pointing bazookas at my head.

The Canadian military should look into this. We could protect all our military secrets using a video game system like this. Sure, teenagers around the world would be able to access them any time they wanted, but who cares? They're teenagers. They can do that ALREADY! But they're too busy playing video games.

The important thing, if we want to protect our society and preserve our way of life, is to ensure OUR kids have bigger and better and more powerful video games than kids in other countries.

For now, we have nothing to worry about. I'm confident the future is safe in my son's hands. Or, at least, his thumbs.

doug.speirs@freepress.mb.ca

Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition November 30, 2009 A2