Warfare is a young man’s game
Two possible titles: “I don’t get it”, or “Warfare is a young man’s game”. On the TV screen, something involving running through an urban park, with background sounds of gunfire. Lots of gunfire. And on a regular basis, the screen flashes red, and things seem to reset. And we’re back to running through the park. Or the subway. It changes.
Son #3 is busy, in a round of “Battlefield 3”. I asked if the title was “Mortal Combat”, but that has something to do with fighting. This game, involving dozens of types of weapons and a virtual army of soldiers trying to protect the objective, doesn’t. Or so I was told. Remember, “I don’t get it”.
I’m not privy to the skill set needed to join the party. Every time I pick up one of the remote thingies with the arrows and dots and buttons, I press randomly until Netflix begins. Forget gaming. Too much information on the screen, colour-coded and disappearing about the time I manage to focus on the miniscule text. But I do ask questions.
Since we’re in the park, do you get added points for going down the playground slide? No. Can you shoot that radar antenna? No. Why are the flowers never crushed when you die on top of them. No response. The scene just changed to a subway station. Does the train ever arrive? No. How come there are no people waiting on the platform? No response. Can we stop and ask for information on how to get to somewhere with less conflict? No response (the shooting at someone keeps son #3 very busy.)
During the pauses, which last about thirty seconds, a leader board appears. Lots of players. A canned film shows the medals that have been awarded for the previous segment. Conquest ribbon. Conquest winner ribbin. Ace ribbon. No band music, though.
