That’s So Cliché: Exodus Edition

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Exodus Edition

Hello, you smiling people. This is the Ominous Voice, your source of mindless complaining about videogames both good and bad for the past four years. A long time ago, I joined up with a flunkie writer to discuss obscure games, and that had its euphoric highs and its ridiculous lows. But once this site went all “Gaming Outside The Mainstream” and all that nonsense, we had to shut that column down because everyone was getting on that bandwagon. That’s when I started up “That’s So Cliché”, where I was given a forum to gripe about everything that’s wrong with games today, from ice levels to having too many damn characters in an RPG party.

But that ends today. I am reporting for duty for the last time today. It’s been an interesting ride, but I’ve taken a better offer at a supermarket handing out samples of aerosol cheese on weekends to the elderly. That’s right—I’m moving on to bigger and better things! So this is my last hurrah in this office. And I have to admit, I won’t miss the dapper peeling wallpaper, the cracked mud-caked windows, and the weird lingering smell coming from Michael Gray’s cubicle down the hall. And I definitely won’t miss having to stomach staffers from this site getting married left and right. Thank goodness we had some ugly ones who couldn’t find a date if they were in a dried fruit store; otherwise, I’d have easily gone on a chainsaw rampage just to maintain my own sanity. I also stood by as the beard-obsessed Paul Franzen stepped down, paving the way for Alex Jeddeheherazade to take over. I remember that event well because it was the day I stole Paul’s chair cushion so I wouldn’t have to keep sitting on this feculent torn-apart bar stool one moment longer. Ah, GameCola, you know how to keep a guy happy.

I’m leaving this Ace Attorney-infested island but not before I let go of one final irritation. No, I don’t mean that rash (stop looking at it)! You know what I really hate about videogames? The players!

That’s rightI’m talking about you out there. Let me tell you what’s wrong with you gamers today. And I don’t mean every single one. I’m talking about the extreme cases. But most of you grunts out there, shut up and listen! Number one: you have about as well-developed social skills as a rusted tire iron. You’re stuck inside for sixteen hours at a time, trying to earn a sacred ankle scratcher so you can finally get a glance from a burning lich king. I’ve actually met people like that, and it was horrifying. I’m surprised they hadn’t installed catheters so they wouldn’t have to get up. And with all that going on, stepping outside into the sun can be a devastating experience. And don’t even bother going into a social arena. They’ll squash you with their manners and etiquette. Like showering.

And what about those people who have significant others/friends/fellow shack occupants? Those gamers that play while others watch, you’re on my naughty list. Why don’t you give other people a turn? Don’t hog the Dance Dance Revolution mat all for yourself. I don’t want to have to see you stumble over your own feet all night. Maybe I want to show off my smooth moves! Yeah, it would help if I actually HAD legs, but even being a limbless interdimensional apparition, I could still beat you hands down on “Dub I Dub“. Don’t even pretend you’re a funkmaster. And when we’re playing Mario Kart, don’t always take the good player and leave me to be Yoshi. Nobody wants to be Yoshi. Yoshi’s punctuated in-game scream translates to “Pick someone else! I’m terrible!”.

Then there are the people who play games like Call of Duty religiously. That series sells like hotcakes. Even hotcakes themselves aren’t flying off the shelves like Call of Duty: Futuristic Warfare 9: Veterinary Clinic Ultra Omega Plus. I don’t get what’s so thrilling about that game. Seems just like all the others. But I can live with rehashing the same shooter over and over. I don’t lose sleep over that. But the in-game players, dear fudgy brown! Could you ever relax for a bit? You have one less-experienced individual in the fray, and suddenly you start whining and taunting like you’re coughing up acidic bricks! It’s just a game. If you get killed in the game, what happens? Does your last mortgage payment get rejected? Does your blender explode? Do neighborhood cats run wild and start doing the Tennessee Waltz all over your flowerbed? Absolutely not! So calm down and don’t bother getting all disrespectful over something so useful! Remember when you were a “n00b”? And don’t even dare call it a rite of passage for players. That’s like a promotion for bullying.

Alright, I think I’m done. When it comes to gamers, I still think they’re alright. I kid, I think. So take it easy, GameCola. The office is yours. Now you have a place to put a microwave.

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