As opposed to the usual meaning of this shout (“Come here, Dad. I need something.”), this one is more at the disgust/disdain end of things.
That’s because I’m dead.
Not literally, of course. That would make writing this post difficult, and I would hope that my son would be a bit more concerned if he found me deceased.
No, this one is because my Rebel soldier has succumbed to a hail of blaster fire leaving my son’s solider alone to face this particular wave of Imperials. We’re playing the new video game Star Wars: Battlefront, and, to put it bluntly, I suck.
I’d like to say that it didn’t used to be this way. I am a part of the first generation of kids to have video game systems in their home. I had an Atari 2600. I had an Atari 5200. I had the original Nintendo Entertainment System. Hell, I even had an Intellivision. The year I was heading into junior high, my family moved to a town that had an arcade within biking distance of my house.
I played A LOT of video games.
But was I ever really any good at them?
If I’m honest, no. My best years were probably in college. Give me Chun Li in Super Street Fighter II Turbo or Sub-Zero in Mortal Kombat 3, and I could do pretty well against my friends. Particularly if I was semi-intoxicated. Somehow that made me faster. Or at least far more annoying. However, if I was to go up against anyone who really knew what they were doing, I would get crushed.
I didn’t get to play much after college, but several years ago I bought an old Playstation 2 from a friend of mine. It came with Star Wars: Battlefront 1 & 2, which the boy and I played quite a bit. I tended to win in head to head matches against him, but he was all of about 8 or 9 years old. Yay, me. I could beat an elementary schooler.
And even that didn’t last for long. He quickly began holding his own and then beating me on a regular basis.
That held true whether we were playing against each other in Team Fortress 2, Call of Duty, or the brand new and oh-so-pretty reboot of Star Wars: Battlefront. Battlefront does have a co-op mode where the two of us work together against 15 waves of Imperial forces.
That’s where I began this tale. Somewhere around Wave 5, I died and had to wait until my son finished off the rest of the wave to rejoin the game. We muddle through the next few waves (Ok. I muddled. He cut through Stormtroopers like Death incarnate.), but then somewhere around Wave 9 or 10, he dies.
I am left alone and outnumbered, but, despite flailing around like Kermit the Frog in a full-on panic, I manage to take out the rest of the wave, bringing him back into the game.
We finish off the last few waves, which brings up the final stats. My Son – 85 kills. Me – 40.
“Huh,” he says. “You didn’t do that bad.”
High praise from the boy.
But let’s be honest. I still suck.
- Alan Decker
@CmdrAJD on Twitter