Home
There’s a gamer I know and we call him The Hammer.
The Hammer is so called because because of his blunt-force approach to gaming. He cares only for violence and death. He has no time for story, characters, graphics, level design, sound, checkpoints or upgrades. He just wants to shoot people. As much as possible.
This focused bloodlust causes him to ignore everything else. “Where am I supposed to go?”, he’ll ask, and I'll have to point out the large arrow in the distance or the bright red dot on the map. He never reloads in Modern Warfare because he doesn’t notice the text in the middle of the screen telling him to. You know, the text that’s so intrusive that you'll reload just to get rid of it? He can’t even see that, the blinkers are on.
Did you ever switch on the cheats in Goldeneye to take a sniper rifle into a level that shouldn't have one, then wait for soldiers to rush round a corner, picking them off again and again? That would be The Hammer's perfect game. Pure, simple, repetitive killing, no pesky missions or movement to interrupt the death. Every cut scene is accompanied by the sound of frantic button tapping, as he tries to get back to the shooting.
The Hammer would be an ideal Kinect player. Despite using a controller with no motion detection, he'll lean and turn sideways to try and avoid fire. If he does have to drive he'll swing the controller left and right when steering around corners. He stands to play games, as if this provides an advantage over sitting, and ends up banging his elbows on doors he was two feet away from when he started playing.
I've never seen a more intense look of disgust than the time I explained I was playing Splinter Cell, a "stealth game" that required "patience". I may as well have said I was wearing ladies underwear. Which I was.
People were outraged over Modern Warfare 2’s 'No Russian' level. The Hammer didn’t even notice the problem. The second those lift doors opened and he saw people, he started gunning them down before the terrorists did. Only once he’d finished the level and I questioned him about it did he realised he’d been gunning down civilians. See meat, shoot meat.
The one other thing he could accept in games, beside shooting, is quick saves. I introduced the concept to him, and soon regretted it.
When I started playing Doom 3, his head would regularly angle in the door. He smelled killing, and wanted his own piece. Once, unfortunately, I had to leave him alone with the Xbox, knowing he'd soon crank the game up. "Just use this save slot here", I told him, "leave that one alone, that's mine". I returned home to find that he had saved his own game, mere minutes after starting, over mine. "Dammit". Then I noticed he had also used the save slot I told him to. "I'll pick up where he left off", I thought, "that'll show him". I sat as the game loaded. A second later I was dead. "WTF?". I loaded it again. This time I saw the briefest flash of gameplay before I died. It took a few restarts to understand what had happened. The Hammer had been in trouble. A demonic beast had been bearing down on him when his energy was low. For some inexplicable reason he decided to save. So every time the game loaded the monster would be right on top of us. The game was pointless. I tried many times to escape this fate, waiting poised as the game loaded for that millisecond of play to try and avoid the beast's death blow. To no avail.
The Hammer is so called because because of his blunt-force approach to gaming. He cares only for violence and death. He has no time for story, characters, graphics, level design, sound, checkpoints or upgrades. He just wants to shoot people. As much as possible.
This focused bloodlust causes him to ignore everything else. “Where am I supposed to go?”, he’ll ask, and I'll have to point out the large arrow in the distance or the bright red dot on the map. He never reloads in Modern Warfare because he doesn’t notice the text in the middle of the screen telling him to. You know, the text that’s so intrusive that you'll reload just to get rid of it? He can’t even see that, the blinkers are on.
Did you ever switch on the cheats in Goldeneye to take a sniper rifle into a level that shouldn't have one, then wait for soldiers to rush round a corner, picking them off again and again? That would be The Hammer's perfect game. Pure, simple, repetitive killing, no pesky missions or movement to interrupt the death. Every cut scene is accompanied by the sound of frantic button tapping, as he tries to get back to the shooting.
The Hammer would be an ideal Kinect player. Despite using a controller with no motion detection, he'll lean and turn sideways to try and avoid fire. If he does have to drive he'll swing the controller left and right when steering around corners. He stands to play games, as if this provides an advantage over sitting, and ends up banging his elbows on doors he was two feet away from when he started playing.
I've never seen a more intense look of disgust than the time I explained I was playing Splinter Cell, a "stealth game" that required "patience". I may as well have said I was wearing ladies underwear. Which I was.
People were outraged over Modern Warfare 2’s 'No Russian' level. The Hammer didn’t even notice the problem. The second those lift doors opened and he saw people, he started gunning them down before the terrorists did. Only once he’d finished the level and I questioned him about it did he realised he’d been gunning down civilians. See meat, shoot meat.
The one other thing he could accept in games, beside shooting, is quick saves. I introduced the concept to him, and soon regretted it.
When I started playing Doom 3, his head would regularly angle in the door. He smelled killing, and wanted his own piece. Once, unfortunately, I had to leave him alone with the Xbox, knowing he'd soon crank the game up. "Just use this save slot here", I told him, "leave that one alone, that's mine". I returned home to find that he had saved his own game, mere minutes after starting, over mine. "Dammit". Then I noticed he had also used the save slot I told him to. "I'll pick up where he left off", I thought, "that'll show him". I sat as the game loaded. A second later I was dead. "WTF?". I loaded it again. This time I saw the briefest flash of gameplay before I died. It took a few restarts to understand what had happened. The Hammer had been in trouble. A demonic beast had been bearing down on him when his energy was low. For some inexplicable reason he decided to save. So every time the game loaded the monster would be right on top of us. The game was pointless. I tried many times to escape this fate, waiting poised as the game loaded for that millisecond of play to try and avoid the beast's death blow. To no avail.
Nowadays, The Hammer is a man without an Xbox, a soldier without a cause. He visited me recently. Entering the living room, he noticed the PS3 was on.
“What you playing?”.
“Killzone 3”.
“That’ll do for me”. He played for the entire visit, forgoing politeness and etiquette and societal norms. Once again ignoring all else, focused only on killing.
0
Problem? Report this post
