VIdeo games

Alright. Everyone knows I spend a great deal of my time huddled in the Galarza nest where it's warm and cuddly. There, Carlos and I play our fair share of video games and are not afraid to admit it. Call us geeks or nerds, we consider it an art form and a new way of storytelling that has evolved rapidly in a short period of time. Alongside film and Stella Artois, it may be our favorite means of escapism.

Now. All that being said, today my copy of Killzone 2 arrived from the boys over at Amazon. I popped her into my console and promptly had my mind completely blown away, pecked up and eaten by mutant terradactyls which then vomited into their baby dinosaur's mouths.

It's a crazy game.

After a few hours, though, something strange started happening. My pulse was racing and I felt anxious. What's going on? I was cold. Hypersensitive. Long after putting the game down I was making a sandwich and had a wartime flashback when I heard the microwave beep. It seems I was suffering a mild case of post traumatic stress disorder. And that's when it hit me.


Video games have become totally awesome.

Too awesome.

I can't wait till my kids have heart attacks playing Pokemon 12.