Grandma Rae could never understand that boy. A bright young lad with a good future in front of him.
But he was always playing that cursed video game. Every time she came over to visit, he was there planted on the couch, furiously pressing the buttons, yelling out “Kill ‘em! Kill ‘em!”
“Those things are a bad influence,” she muttered to the boy’s parents. She’d heard about how video games were corrupting the youth, what with all the violence and blood and gore.
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Gram,” the father said. “He’s doing well in school. Good grades and lots of friends.”
“Hmmm . . .” Grandma Rae just sat down to dinner and stewed. It was about time she had that talk with her daughter about that overly permissive, no-count husband of hers.
One day she came over a bit earlier than usual. There was no one in the living room. Grandma Rae walked in, sat on the couch and glanced up at the big screen.
There was a figure standing there, dressed in some kind of armored clothing with a shiny silvery sheen. In his hand was a gun, something like an over-sized pistol.
She absently picked up a plastic object from the coffee table and felt it in her hands. Suddenly a voice boomed out “Time to die, scumbag!”
“Huh?” She started and dropped the plastic object. But on the screen something was happening. Another man appeared, dressed in black, who raised a gun and fired. The silver figure fell down and the screen went black.
“Gotta know when to use cover.”
“What?” She turned around and spotted the boy, standing not ten feet away from her.
“Hit the triangle button,” the boy said. “That’ll restart the game.”
“Ohhh . . .” Grandma Rae retrieved the plastic object and fingered the buttons. “Don’t really know . . .”
“Here . . .” He came over and pointed at the game controller. “Hit this one here.”
“Okay . . .” Grandma Rae pressed the button with the symbol of a triangle on it. The game re-started.
The voice boomed “Time to die, scumbag!” once again and the black figure marched on screen. Grandma Rae did her best to work the controller, but it was no use. Her character, the silver man, was gunned down just like before.
“Don’t worry,” the boy said. “You get killed lots of times.”
“But I . . .” She fumbled with the controller. “Why don’t you . . .”
“Nah. You do it, Gram.”
“Well . . .” She hesitated then re-started the game.
This time he gave instructions on the fly. “Use your left thumb on the lever to move. Take cover behind that tree on the right. Good, good,” he encouraged. “Now go into a crouch. Use the square button.”
“Uh . . .” She pressed where he indicated. Her silver character went into a crouch and narrowly avoided a hail of red-tracers.
“Excellent! Now move to the left like this.” He indicated with his finger. “Raise your weapon with the circle button. Aim with your right thumb. And fire with the button on top here.”
“Oh . . . ah . . .” It was all happening so quickly. The man in black stood dead center on the screen. He was re-loading his weapon. There wasn’t much time.
“Come on, Gram. You can do it.”
“Yes . . . ah . . .” Grandma Rae struggled with the action. She broke into a sweat as the cursor moved closer to her target. “Um . . . ah . . . think I . . .” She closed her eyes and squeezed.
There was a series of loud bangs. Grandma Rae opened her eyes to the sight of bullets spewing from her rifle. The man in black staggered and fell to the ground.
Her grandson gave a triumphant shout. “Yeah, you’ve done it. Your very first kill.”
“Yes . . . I just . . .” Grandma Rae felt a strange tingling race thru her body. It was her first adrenaline rush.
“Now you’ve gotta rescue the hostages.”
“Really . . . oh . . .” Now she was off on a mission. Her silver character ran past the vanquished foe towards the village. Grandma Rae was amazed at how real the buildings looked.
There was more instruction on the fly. Her grandson showed her how to move quickly, take cover, reload, and change weapons.
Grandma Rae took to it well. Her man in silver crouched behind a wall, gunned down two sentries with the assault rifle, then took out a small band of reinforcements with her grenade launcher. The explosions were awesome. She found herself laughing with glee.
The final objective was a fortified bunker. She consulted the map and made her approach. After a couple hundred meters, she hit the ground and crawled, inch by inch, until she was within range. She steadied the flame thrower and aimed through a narrow gun slit.
A torrent of fire shot through the air. The bunker erupted in flames. Right on target. She rushed in and promptly dispatched the remaining enemy survivors. A trap door lead to the basement where she located the hostages. She cut them loose and spirited them to safety outside.
It was just in time. Moments later the entire building exploded in an earth shattering roar. A watchtower adjacent to the bunker complex teetered and fell into a mass of flames.
Grandma Rae just sat and watched the spectacle. She’d completed her mission and rescued the hostages. The game went to a cut-scene of a family of six hooting and hollering their congratulations.
“Great work, Gram,” the boy said. “You’re a natural.”
From then on Grandma Rae always made it a point to arrive early every week. When dinner was served her family had to pry her away from that game. She was always there planted on the couch, fingers mashing the controller, yelling out “Kill ‘em! Kill ‘em!”