My dad is the sole person responsible for me being a "gamer" (Yeah Croshaw, I know you hate the term) - but given the fact that he rather wanted me to be a footballer, which sounds like some sadistic martial arts-routine more than a somewhat civilized sport, I`d say I got the better end of the deal. Sure, I haven`t married a couple of supermodels, all the time while looking like a transsexual hobbit, but at least I`ve saved the world a few times over during the years spent in front of the tv.
And old dad never cared nothing, until I brought home Call of Duty: The big red one. After watching me struggle through the D-day sequence, he actually got interested - in a "this doesn`t seem like TriCell to me"-kinda way, and actually tried it. And failed. But had a blast doing so, while coming to the conclusion: If only he understood the controller, he`d kick some serious nazi-buttocks.
So fast forward a bunch of years and enter the Wii. Now, him being a granddad and all, this is actually the arena where he and my nephews are bonding besides Lego and RL-football. Watching him and the cool little buggers that they both are duking it out in the bowling alley, ski jump etc...is just a big Deja Vu for me - back to the days when me and him played the ZX Spectrum together. Killing aliens in Jetpac, exploring the world of Valhalla, and hating Manic Miner in equal measures.
Mum? Died 2 years ago, but without a doubt - could name and sing the themes to SMB and Bubble Bobble without thinking about it. To her, it was just a thing where she saw I was enjoying myself without getting in danger. Every once in a while, it was the old "please go outside a bit more" but combined with the fact that outside = skateboarding (in the only land afaik that outlawed said sport) she seemed content that I saved the world on a regular basis, from the safe confines of our basement.
Knowing mum, she`d be an Angry Bird-gamer for sure.
