Fun House, do you? Grrr. I have high scores and
interesting opinions, too. Why am I not interviewed? Is it because I'm . . .
thirty-one? This blatant ageism nauseates me.
My own
Nintendo strengths are grim persistence and a cool, steely logic. I admit that I
am a mercenary. I am not loyal to one cause. I go where I am called. I will save
any planet, crush any flying crab, no matter how rare a species. When I run into
trouble, I just get more agile and more clever.
I'm less skilled when it comes to repeated punching
and endless turbo speed-bike courses, which figure heavily in Battletoads. So I
vanquish those amphibians by extracting their game cartridge and hurling it
against the wall. Next!
Or else I just break down
and call the Game Tips Hotline. "This is a toll number," the voice
says. "Please ask permission from your parents or whoever pays the phone
bill." I do call my father, who says OK and wonders if I need a vacation.
"With the lands I see on my Nintendo screen every day," I assure him,
pitying his simplicity, "any other scenery would be a disappointment."
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