An Ode to Alex Shepherd of Silent Hill Homecoming.

(Sung to Da Doo Ron Ron song by the Crystals except... longer.)

I saw the game at the store and was completely thrilled
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!
The name of the game was Silent Hill
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

Horay! It's Silent Hill!
This game's a thrill!
So I made my purchase and I went back home.
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

The first scene was creepy but that's the norm
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!
There's a crazy kid drawing and mosters too
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

MAN the puzzles were hard as heck
FOUND the code on a desk
opened up the door and the kid ran away.
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

Made it through the nightmare and found the first boss
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!
Tried to hit it with a pipe and it kicked my butt
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

OH this game was hard as hell
But STILL I gotta find the brat
and just when I did I passed out
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

HOW did I end up in here?
WHERE the heck is my gear?
Now I'm in prison ... get me outta here!
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

Deputy Wheeler is freaked out and I am too
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!
Creatures are attacking and they're deadly dudes.
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

AAAAAAAAH! The mini boss is hard
WAAAAAAAH! I barely won
So I jumped into the sewers and ran like hell.
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

Made it to the Doctor's office and what the hell?
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!
Psycho nurses in the hallway and they have the key
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

OH now I'm in a little girl's room
AND now I'm fighting a doll
So I cracked it all to pieces and ran like hell
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

Woke up on the floor and spewed my guts
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!
There's a key on the floor and what the F*k?!?
Hey! Dude! Run Run Run! ... Hey! Dude! Run Run!

Ever felt like your not wanted?

Have you ever gone to work, visit your favorite store, talk to the usual workers/waitresses/hairdresser/chiropractor/doctor/dentist and any other acquaintances and felt you were no longer wanted there? They simply lost total interest in anything you say or do? Or anything you did was just not up to their standards?

You get up as you do every single day, ate the same things, cared for your pets in the same manner, watered and talked to your houseplants the same way. But, yet, something is different?

I've been having these feelings for awhile, almost as if it were a premonition of sorts. I'm sure I'm just being a silly girl and everything is fine. But I can't shake the feeling. I know I haven't written my best, photographed my best nor did my best in laying out a newspaper page. But I do give what I have left to anyone who needed me.

Perhaps its all the changes that have been going on and I'm just feeling antsy because I may or may not have a job soon. But ... still ... there's just something there sneering and waiting for you. You can't quite shake it.

It's not a good feeling, but it is a feeling of uncertainty. I'll post more as things start to reveal themselves.

Game of Love is a serious business

This article was published in the Fort Bragg Paraglide on Sept. 29, 2008

It seems it’s my turn to write a commentary and since everyone keeps asking me about the gamer lifestyle and most recently Dawn asking me about love advice for a non-gamer married to a gamer, I decided to write about gamers.

Well, first let me explain the type of gamer I really am.

Despite the popular description of a gamer most people try to categorize us into, I’m not a pimple faced 13-year-old with a game room in her mother’s basement who stock up sodas, cheese puffs and pizzas for a weekend of gaming or non-stop Dungeons and Dragons at a friend’s house.

I’m not a girly girl either. I don’t go out of my way to buy 20 to 30 different pairs of shoes with matching handbags or worry about the latest fashion styles of the month. I’m pretty content wearing my game-themed tshirts and jeans.

I don’t enjoy chick-flicks. Want to end a date with me pretty darn quick? Surprise me with a movie like Titanic or Bridges of Madison County. You’ll find me in the lobby arcade room 30 minutes into the movie or breaking out my portable hand held game to kill time. If anyone went to the premiere of Titanic and remembers a ruckus at the end — yes, it was me cheering and screaming “about time” as Leonardo Di Caprio slipped into the freezing ocean as a human popsicle.

Seriously, the title of the movie was the Titanic … it should be no surprise as to what was going to happen after the ship hit the iceberg.

No, I’m just a person who enjoys her video games ... I’m just a gamer.

(Pay attention Stephenie … ‘cause here we go.) And for those of you who don’t realize that gaming goes beyond a deck of Pokemon cards (that’s pronounced ‘Poke-E-Mon’ not Pookie-man) and a handful of 8-year-olds hovering over a gameboy, there are hundreds of different types of games, styles in which you play them and the forms in which they come in.

For example, there are live-action role playing games (a game where participants physically act out their characters actions), collectable card games (like Pokemon, Yu-gi-oh and Magic the Gathering), fantasy role playing games (like Dungeons and Dragons and click-it set games that sometimes involves the use of miniatures and maps) … exhausted yet? … Browser games (any casual online point-n-click, java or flash games) and then console games to name a few. And that’s not even mentioning the types of console games like first person shooters, massive multiplayer online or racing games. I’m not sure there are enough pages in this newspaper to explain them all.

Also, there are more and more adults playing games than children these days, despite the popular mythos from the “normal” population who are under the assumption that gamers wouldn’t know what a boyfriend or girlfriend was unless they were digitally enhanced and came with weapons and body armor.

We do go out and mingle with the human race every now and then to hang out with fellow gamers for dinner and a movie or just a cup of coffee and a deep philosophical conversations or debates about the controversial topics we’ve seen on the Internet or television the night before.

What I’ve found as a gamer, is that we are as selective in who we choose as a potential partner.

But we do get tired of the head games we often have to endure just to make them happy. It starts with, “I understand your need to game” speech and often ends a few months later with, “you spend more time with your game than you do with me” speech.

If we’re lucky they won’t sell our games on eBay or give them to the neighborhood kids as payment for a well-mowed lawn following the break-up.

I’ve had friends who have been happily married for years and both partners game … together.

My friend, Lisa Moore, often schedules family time in which she plays a sports video game with her family on the weekends.

It’s not an issue of whether we can find a date on our own, we’re just as selective with finding a significant other as we are in choosing which game we want to play.

I’ve had my share of shortterm relationships with nongamers before. I say short-term because they say they understand my gaming needs for a week or two, then it becomes a whine-fest about how I spend more time playing a game than watching re-runs of CSI Miami.

It’s not like I play the minute I get home. I have responsibilities that include cooking dinner, feeding the cats, watering plants, laundry, answering e-mails and spending quality time with my family even if it’s a 30-minute phone call to hear about all the fascinating things they do or complaints about why I’m not married yet.

That’s what I do every day on the weekdays. On the weekends, I require at least a two-hour block of gaming … so how is that spending more time playing a game than spending time with them? Hmmm ... it isn’t.

Shutting off my computer or removing my game system to get my attention because you felt ignored will only result in you and your belongings scattered across the front lawn.

Gaming is just a lifestyle I enjoy just as golfing, bicycling, motorcycling and car racing is a lifestyle for others. If you want to get our attention and become a part of our world, simply play with us. I’m not speaking for the entire gamer nation, but if we are able to share our world with you and feel you understand our needs, we will join you in your world. We will come up with a schedule that involves things we do separately and things we do together. If you don’t like the game-style being played, most gamers will try to find one both can enjoy.

Just know that sometimes at the end of the day, especially if it was a bad day, we need to escape our reality for an hour or two.

So there will be times when you just need to let us work things out over a game and not take it as being ignored. We hear you … we just need to refocus our frustrations before we interact with those we love.

The contract is up and its getting scary.

I have had the experience of working with different managing editors of a newspaper over a 16 year period. Each bringing their own style of editing and managing. I've had some really great editors and some I thought hated my guts and waited for the moment I crack under pressure and laugh at me.

I'm not complaining, because obviously it was a lesson in life I needed to learn on how to tolerate others as well as learn to adapt to the changes and overcome any obstacles they throw my way. But working at a military newspaper, I knew I only had to put up with these young bucks sergeants for three years and a new one comes on board. So you try your best to keep your cool when they assign you what seems like a gazillion assignments that either overlapped or conflicted with one another.

Believe me. I worked them. And at one point in 2005, I worked four days straight with no sleep, $2 microwaved banquet meals from home, starving cat at home chewing through the box of cereal I forgot to put away three days prior and a reprimand for being caught taking a ten minute nap in my car when the coffee/caffiene pill/soda pop cocktail stopped working. And end the night at 4 a.m. negotiating with an Army Lieutenant General over a story he didn't like and wanted to replace with one he wrote himself which was two paragraphs shorter than the one already placed in the paper, but can't find it. So the paper is at a standstill until he finds which thumbdrive he remembered to save the story on.

You want to have a nuclear tantrum but you have to remember he's the customer ... and the customer is always right ... even if they are wrong.

You ask, why am I writing this? Because recently I've had to deal with a co-worker who is having a tantrum because they disagreed with how the editor is running the newspaper. More or less, they won't let her cover an event that has nothing to do with the military and because they asked me, "how can you stay cool and calm about this, when the editor is obviously an idiot?!?"

To which I responded, "first, you must remember. These are our customers. This is their commander's newspaper ... we publish news about the military and their way of life. Therefore, if the customer does not want a photo of a bunch of non-military ladies dancing and drinking at a club that is off post ... then don't run it. Second, that editor is our editor ... the boss, and as long as they sit in the editor's office. They will pick and choose what is published in their newspaper."

Am I right or wrong? What life lesson's have you learned in your career as a journalist?

Boot to the Head!

Nothing is more frightening than to be accused of something terrible. I've been writing for years and have never really been accused of anything bad. Except that one time I had to asked this military spouse what her husband's rank was after he blew me off and got into formation to board an aircraft leaving for Iraq. Once in formation I knew they could not be bothered unless it was a dire emergency so I found his wife and asked her. She told me he was a sergeant and so that's what I published under a photo of the two kissing each other goodbye.

The following week after he got a copy of the newspaper, I get a phone call from him all the way from Iraq to complain that I demoted him. I felt bad that it happened, then I played the tape recorder I had in my hand of his wife telling me he was a sergeant. But offered to print a retraction in the next issue which he apologized for yelling at me and hung up to call his wife. The next day I received a phone call from his wife, asking if it was too late for me to print a retraction to include the words "his wife mistakenly told the reporter the wrong rank."

I'm sure her husband fussed at her and demanded she correct the problem based on the sadness of her voice. I told her it wouldn't be a problem to print a correction and that I would not blame her for the mistake. I'd go ahead and take the hit if the editor asked. So the following week since I was doing a story about the recent deployments taking place on the base that I added a different photo of the couple's loving embrace with the correct rank on it. I emailed her a copy so she could see what would be in the paper. She was happy about it and was sure her husband would be happy about it as well. He was. He wanted a perfect copy to send to his mother. He still teases her about it every now and then, when we see each other at the coffee shop we try to be the first to buy the other a cup of coffee every now and then. Until he was deployed again and this time never made it home ... alive. I haven't seen her since the news was published. Sadly, I take turns with four others to write the obits and it breaks my heart when its someone I know, have done interviews with or even hung out with after work.

Since then I've done my best to ask their full names, ranks and units before they had to get into formation or double check with their rear detachments if I had questions.

Life is about lessons and when you think you've learned them all, it takes a boot to the head to make you realize you haven't learned everything.

Two weeks ago as I checked my work list, I noticed one of my stories didn't post. Upon reading the editor's note it said I was accused of plagiarizing and that he would be in contact with me soon. I was devastated. I spent hours worrying and wondering what happened. I thought I attributed all my sources, posted the links and even made sure to rewrite my posts so that it doesn't copy word for word. I made myself sick with worry that I didn't eat, coffee had no appeal to me at that time and I felt a deep sorrow.

Working for a newspaper I knew the seriousness of plagiarizing and was hurt that I would do such a thing after training more than hundreds of young soldiers about journalism and what's expected of them when they write for me from the field or downrange in Iraq or Afghanistan. I thought to myself, "how could I slip up like this? Me? The person with a desk filled with style guides and other reference books."

Then I get another message by email stating that because this was a serious matter they will decide on what to do about it.

After crying for an hour I swallowed my self-pity and wrote back that I did not mean to commit such a crime and would take full responsibility for my actions. I'd even stop posting until the matter has been resolved. I enjoyed the opportunity given to me and I almost lost it all due to ignorance.

I'm lucky to work with people who are understanding and willing to help when called upon. It was the boot to the head that made me realize that I got too comfortable with my writing style that I didn't pay attention to detail and got to arrogant to think my work was nothing less than grade A material. Sometimes it takes a boot to the head to show you how human you really are and make you stop and think.

What's the deal with blaming video games for violent kids?

What is the deal with video game violence and its effects on children? I've often asked my friends this (gaming and non-gaming) just to see what they say about the topic. Yeah. There's violence in games but no more than what is seen in the movies, read in books or watched on television.

What I keep seeing as I read or write these news stories is that "we're fighting for our children" or "this is detrimental mind rot to the youth of today" .... Blah blah blah.

Okay, i've said this before and have received mixed comments back on this topic ... But, why are we responsible for babysitting someone's kid? If you don't want them to have potentially violent media learn to tell them "NO!"

What? We can say "NO" to drugs but when it comes to games, movies or music we dare not challenge the child's request? Believe me ... it's easy. See? "NO!" Easy to say and so quick you don't have to pencil the word in between all the cursing you'll end up doing just to get the kid to go take a bath and go to bed. No time management skill necessary for that one.

I get tired of this whole: "It takes a village to raise a child" crap. One. I didn't carry the little ones around for nine months and shoved it out into the world ... so why should I care if he one day wakes up and decides he wants to wear his pants down to his knees, baseball cap backwards or lime-green Scooby Doo undies underneath a pair of white pants? I'm just the person in the mall trying not to spew my cola-flavored slurpie all over the damn place when I see that nonsense. Heck if it weren't for the goofy looking dog I'd think the kid crapped his pants.

Of course, I tend to share my new weekend findings with friends and unsuspecting people butting into my business or preaching to me about the evil of games to me in the first place. Which led to an aggressive argument with one religious non-gaming naysayer who claims to have two children of his own. And happens to think Scooby Doo clothing goes with anything in his child's wardrobe.

In his preachings he brought up the ol' "it takes a village to raise a child" spiel and that I should have just told the kid's parents how ridiculous or inappropriate the kid looked.

Okay, I live in an area populated by self-proclaimed southerners. Mutton chops, baggy overalls and any fashion dictated by Hollywood as the latest and greatest cool outfit of the century. Who'd rather put a bullet through my skull for even questioning their fashion sense than yank the kid's britches back up to cover their butts.

"Sorry Cleatus Joe! My bad. I didn't realize rat-tails were the in thing this year. You look great in that mullet and the tobacco pouch is dead sexy ... YEE HAW!!!!"

My comical response sent the man ranting and raving all the way back to his car. Trying to negotiate the child's sense of direction when crossing the street, instead of holding the kid's hands. Well... that and his confirming my one way ticket to hell for being an unwilling to be saved gamer. As he shoves one kid into the car and chases after the other, I managed to squeeze in one last say on the matter before he drove away.

"Well, if it takes a village to raise your child then obviously you should rethink your choice of being a parent or your lack of parenting skills have annoyed your "village" long enough and they've been forced to step in."

Yeah. Never seen a man so angry that his head turned red. Kind of looked like that girl from the exorcist just before her head began spinning around. And in a morbid way as I imagined his head exploding and blood splattering everywhere that all I could think of was "hey ... he's actually kinda hot as a redhead."

After reading the video game report card from MediaWise it sort of proved my point that most of this could have been prevented if parents have stepped in to understand what ESRB means and look at the games their child wants to purchase instead of doing whatever it takes to shut them up.

You've seen them in the game stores. Once and awhile an adult brings their 6-year old into the store. The kid runs through the aisles and finds the game with the cool looking robot on it. Plain as day the ESRB rating on the box said "M-for mature" and mom or dad tries to put it back until junior pitches a fit on the floor.

"PUH-LEASE!!!! I WANT THE GAME WITH THE COOL ROBOT!!!!" Mom and dad ignores them. Next thing you hear before you black out is "I WANT THE ROBOT GAME! Gimmie! Gimmie! Gimmie! OR I HOLD MY BREATH TIL' I DIE BECAUSE YOU WON'T GIVE ME MY ROBOT GAME!!!!" This is often followed by a high-pitched scream.

After what seemed like hours you get up and check yourself. Hoping not to find you peed yourself and wipe the blood off your ear lobes. Look around to see if the couple and their screaming banshee have gone, then scramble home.

Then weeks later we're annoyed by news flashes about how how a violent game ended up in the hands of a 6-year old and your favorite game store is under investigation for selling it to the kid.

Teaching a Grizzy how to fly a fighter jet

It's been a few years since I grew tired of my N64 and gave it to my father to keep, sell or use it as a bookstand and went to GameStop to purchase a PS2.

Then last Christmas out of the blue he called me at work to ask how to turn on the N64, what kind of games could he play on it and soon ask if he could have the games I already traded-in at GameStop two years ago. So, just to be nice I went back to GameStop, found and purchased all my old game titles and gave them to my dad.

I knew he'd be happy playing Mario Kart, Perfect Dark and Donkey Kong 64 for awhile or get frustrated and put them in storage. I thought he would be happy or put it away. Wondered if he was playing them or if he had put them away. He played two minutes of both games and decided he didn't like them but didn't want to put them away. Instead he wanted a newer game.

Seemed simple enough. I offered to take him to the store with me to pick out a few games because I knew he was picky about what he liked and disliked. I thought he would go with me to the store to pick a game ... I hoped he would go to the store to pick a game. No. He wants nothing to do with the game store because he felt people would laugh at him for wanting a game and asked that I go "pick something" for him to play. So I picked a few war games like Sarge's Army and a few James Bond titles since he was a fan of the movie.

I took them to his house where he asked me how to play the game. I suggested the book that came with it, but he felt I was insulting him and spent a few hours teaching him how to make his characters move and what each button function did in the game. I made sure he knew how to work the game, even played a few levels with him and left for home. I was positive he knew how to play the game ... I hoped he understood how to play the game ... then my cellphone rang. He didn't understand how to play the game and proceeded to ask me what each button function was on his controller and how it relates to the game. So I turn the car around and drive back to his house to go over the controls of the game and helped him beat the first level. This repeats for three weeks and I have a meltdown about pestering me at work about level 4 of the videogame and that unless the house was on fire stop calling me or I'll sell his "bleeping" N64 and use the money for liquor.

Its now Christmas 2006, my dad hasn't called in a while to ask about how to play a level or for new games. In fact he would often report that he was almost done with the game and plans to go to the store to buy a game for himself. I was actually proud of my dad sucking in his pride and going to the videogame store himself. So I cleaned my house, played with my cats, blogged and sent last minute e-cards before going to his house for Christmas dinner.

I get there. My brothers aren't speaking to me. Which meant they just got through having a four hour recount of my dad's time in the Army or they've grown tired of explaining something to him. They explained in great detail the agonizing day of finding a game store that's open and buying him a copy of a flight simulator style game and have been helping him play his new game all afternoon. Dad was proud of himself for finishing his James Bond and Army Men games, and has grown tired of the simulator he's only played with for one hour. Now he wants a PS2. So after New Years, when all my bills have been prioritized and paid I went to buy him a PS2 as a late Christmas gift.

I knew he'd be happy with a few SOCOM titles and even a James Bond title for the PS2. I hoped he would be happy with the SOCOM titles ... I thought he would at least be happy with the James Bond title. He wasn't. Since New Years, I would often go home to find my PS2 games have been raided and since there were no forced entry points on the door or windows. I get a call ... it was dad ... he wanted to know how to get Snake (from Metal Gear Solid) to crawl into a vent.

Every week it seemed someone has rearranged the games I've spent all weekend alphabetizing, grouped and cataloged into my collection. Metal Gear Solid was placed with the Kingdom Hearts, the Devil May Cry with my Parasite Eve series and my Final Fantasy series out of numeric sequence in my library.

This year, I thought I'd buy him the same thing that's in my collection since he still refuses to go to the store for himself. So after Thanksgiving, I went to the black Friday sale at GameStop and left with $30 worth of Metal Gear games and a few Army titles he seemed to have shown interest in.

Wait. My phone is ringing.