XBox Done

          I love video games. I love everything about them. It's an artistic medium in which writers, artists, code designers, musicians, and hundreds of other people all come together to make something great. It's the only form of art in which the observer can feel like a part of the art itself, where they can feel immersed in a fictional world painstakingly created purely for their enjoyment. For a brief few hours we make a bond with everyone who put in the long hours and suffered the frustrating setbacks to bring us a small amount of joy in a world that sometimes feels like it misses no opportunity to kick us in the balls.

It's like Final Destination, but for your testicles.

          For much of my life I was an XBox player. Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed PlayStation and Nintendo's many awesome gadgets, but XBox and I had formed a special relationship. I can still remember how it started with a simple game called Cel Damage. It was far from perfect, and yet it was absolutely perfect; a Twisted Metal-esque driving game where you collect crazy-ass weapons and use them to chop, burn, explode, freeze, shred, or harpoon other players until you were absolutely sick of it, which never happened. I can even credit this game with giving me a healthy relationship with my sister who was much more outdoorsy than me, but this game was something we loved playing together, it was something special that we shared even given our vastly different interests. The graphics were bad, the attempted humor of the character voices fell flat, and the physics were insanely inaccurate, but this XBox exclusive was the closest evidence to prove that there was a god of fun I could think of.

No, that's a fun god, not a god of fun.

There we go.

          Back to the point, XBox had helped me foster friendships far and wide, albeit there were several instances in which I said terrible things to a ten-year-old who just that day learned a new swear word, but overall it became a means for a shy little kid to make friends with other people who enjoyed similar video games.

           It got even better with the XBox 360; a ton more games, easier online multi-player, and achievements that made games more than progression through the story, but a story with goals that made gameplay a personal challenge. Yes, it was merely an imaginary reward, but it was never about the points, it was about the game challenging you to go beyond what you thought were your limitations in the game. They were the video game equivalent of Boy Scout badges, only of any true value to the one who earned it, but a small token of individual pride that you were beset with a goal, and of your own free will and determination, achieved it.

          Over the course of most of a decade, Microsoft and I had grown close. My XBox 360 was always willing to play games no matter the time of day or for how long, it only cared about having fun. We both had our own shortcomings, but it was easily to look past. I couldn't play games nearly as much as I wanted, forcing it to wait patiently until my time became free, and 360 couldn't play any games from the old XBox that I liked, nobody's perfect. It became something along the lines of a deep friendship, I found myself arguing passionately Microsoft's merits with PS3 gamers as though they had just talked crap about my best friend.

This was the argument in our heads. The real one was just... sad.

          Then E3 2013 rolled around, I couldn't have been more excited to see what my 360 would evolve into, and although the marketing executives could have picked from presumably thousands of better names, I could only imagine the amazing things it could bring with its new incarnation.

          Instead I, much like every other XBox player, was rewarded with shock, disappointment, and soul-shattering betrayal in the form of DRM-related bullshit. No game sharing, a mandatory check-in every 24 hours (which meant you had to have internet service wherever you were playing), a motion sensor that would always remain on, and had to be connected or else nothing would work, and not to mention a certain Microsoft executive's oh-so-appreciative sentiment of military personnel not being able to play their new console.

          For those of you who elected not to play the video, around the two minute mark this multi-millionaire dickbasket addresses the fact that some people do not have internet connectivity (he alludes specifically to people on nuclear powered submarines) and suggests that those people just stick with their XBox 360.

          Microsoft clearly went down the wrong rabbit hole here when they decided to release a console with terrible policies, and then made it public knowledge that they didn't even care that some people wouldn't even be able to play it. I couldn't believe what I was hearing, here I thought Microsoft and I were friends, looking past each others' minor faults and seeing the genuine good on the inside, I wanted so badly to believe this was all a trick. I desperately held out hope that this was just a prank to get people to appreciate some mystery console Microsoft was going to release that had all the great gaming qualities that people came to expect from them. I fucking tweeted about it!

The longer I wait the less likely it seems that a Microsoft rep will jump out and yell "just kidding!" #microsoftwhy #cuphands
— Peter Kenney (@random_pete) May 30, 2013

          Now it's important to note that Microsoft, presumably after an afternoon of angry mob-imposed electroshock, retracted most of the terrible policies that it tried to get past everyone. We could share games, an internet connection was now only required once at startup, and they were now acting less like complete dicks towards the people from whom they received crazy amounts of money. Nevertheless, it's important to remember what the executives of Microsoft tried to do to its loyal customers. We gave nothing but love and appreciation, even countless Red Rings of Death later, and we were summarily rewarded with swift, numerous and merciless punches to the stomach and as we lay coughing on the cold ground we could only see Microsoft pulling our wallet out of our pocket, taking everything of value, throwing the empty fold of leather back in our face and capping it all off with a particularly hateful-feeling loogie to the eye.

          A year later, after that complete and utter heartbreak, I can see that XBox One (for the remainder of this post I will be referring to as "XBone") has picked itself up from the depths of unfathomable hatred and has gone about its business pretending that ugliness never happened. It has exhibited its prowess as a gaming console, an entertainment center, and a tool of myriad uses. All of which to entice everyone into forgetting what it tried to do, what it honestly thought it could just get away with because "Hey I'm XBone and every single one of you will bow before me. Offer me tribute ye puny mortals, for I am the eternal next-gen console!"

          So to you Microsoft I say this; It's been a year since you drunkenly stumbled into my house and viciously beat me from room to room, demanding I give you money and insisting the beatings will continue even if I paid you, and even though you've come back with flowers, gifts, and an apologetic look on your face I cannot forget the pain you inflicted on me as well as my friends. I honestly thought I could look past it after a year, but with E3 returning again all I can associate with you is agonizing despair. I never wanted it to end like this, with so much unspoken animosity between us. I honestly thought we would have another decade or so together before we had to say our goodbyes, but this... obviously you had no intention of maintaining any kind of friendship, you weren't interested in me, you were interested in my money. Maybe a few more years and you'll see just how big a mistake you made, at least, that's what I hope. Maybe you'll reflect on the consequences of your actions, maybe you'll apologize and actually mean it, but until then I don't want to hear from you. You and I are done, after over 10 years of fun and friendship you blew it. I can't forgive you, and I don't see any point in the future where I could bring myself to do so.

          I wish you luck in your future XBone, hopefully you'll find happiness somewhere besides the inside of someone's wallet. As for me, I expect to never see you again, because your hurtful and heart-wrenching betrayal has given me the resolve to finally buy a Playstation 4. Sony asks nothing more of me than you did when we were friends, maybe you'll remember what that was like.

          Goodbye XBone, you smug, self-imposing piece of shit.
           -Peter

The Fallout of Fake Nerd Zero

          It's never not a good time to be introspective, and with recent events and controversies coming to light I find myself revisiting those times in my life where a select few of bad examples of a demographic had colored my opinion in a bad light. Now, it's never acceptable to judge an entire group by the few bad experiences you might've had dealing with such a tiny percentage, nevertheless the human psyche is much more apt to remember bad experiences than good ones in order to avoid repeating those bad experiences. It may be a survival mechanism encoded into our DNA, but it's no excuse to be a dick to someone. This is a lesson I've had to learn over and over again, and while it can be applied to many different circumstances, I'm going to draw from my own personal experience. Fill in the key words with whatever might be relevant to you.

          Growing up as a nerd, there's one suspicion that creeps into our heads and firmly plants itself there with a custom armchair and a big-ass T.V.; the fact that while the friends we've made in our niche interest group are among the most loyal and understanding, a snowball did in fact have a better chance in hell than any of us did in finding a girlfriend. Now this is a tricky part to talk about because there have always been women in these niche groups. Nerdy girls are nothing new, there have been women in nerd circles just as long as there have been guys, though there is usually a large ratio of guys to girls in any one of these circles, and this my be our own fault; no not because of the infamous "nerd funk" that would drive away anyone with a sense of smell, but because in such a predominantly male environment many women who find common ground in a group that shares an interest in Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Magic the Gathering or any other particular fandom often find themselves disregarding their femininity.

          It's not a novel concept that many nerdy circles have a certain unisex vibe among it's members, and tragically for its female members, it usually skews in the male direction. This isn't a requirement of belonging to a group, it's merely a terrible and unintentional side effect. A young male nerd is more skittish than a deer on crack, and there's nothing more threatening or terrifying than a woman who shares his interests and is confidently exhibiting their femininity. Now it could be that women, when entering a group for the first time are fully aware of how intimidating they can be upon first encounter, and so they go completely Jane Goodall on the group and take time to learn their ways before interacting with them in order to reduce the stress caused by their presence. Then again, much more likely, and as with any group, a new member would tend to adopt a more homogenous persona in order to increase their chances of overall acceptance. As a result, we tend to see women in our groups as "one of the guys". It's not an ideal situation for a woman seeking acceptance to be in, but on the other hand being seen as "one of the guys" is an example of equality that is unseen in most other situations. Women are seen as equals, even rivals alongside men, but when it comes at a cost of being identified as a woman, is it entirely healthy? At what point can personal identity and equality both coexist?

          Big questions aside, for a long while female participation was welcomed in nerd circles, they were close-knit groups that supported each other when most others would find reason to harass, torment, and/or bully  them otherwise. All the while still wracked with the same festering suspicion in their minds that while they have friends they would not trade for anything in the world, they would never find themselves in a relationship.

          Enter the bane of nerd culture, the single monkey wrench that could throw the gears of nerd culture out of sync, the fake nerd. This is not to be confused with how we regard the term now, but the actual true definition. One person who infiltrated the safety and sanctity of a nerd circle, for one reason or another, one example being that the "fake nerd" feels insecure and seeks validation through attention and admiration of others. Male or female, the "fake nerd" is normally one of above average looks; clear skin, attractive physique, well-maintained hair etc., who is also able to use that finely-tuned charm and feigned interest in whatever the others may be fans of to garter all attention for themselves. Suddenly an attractive person was speaking to us, it was almost unheard of that someone who could congregate with the more popular cliques would spend time with the nerds. It was new, it was exciting, our minds swam with the possibilities of breaking down barriers that divided us and sharing our passions and hobbies with others, ushering in an era of peace unheard of in human history.

          Blind idealism tends to get shut down either quickly or painfully.

          Again, this is a time in our lives when we were already certain that a relationship wouldn't happen, the only people we happened to have crushes on were, as we had convinced ourselves, completely out of our league. But here it was happening, maybe it was that really cute redheaded girl with that perfect smile that made you forget breathing was a necessity, maybe it was that tall, dark and handsome guy on the student council, whomever it may have been we were petrified with joy and excitement that someone like that would want to hang out with someone like us.

          The next few weeks would go by, and things would be looking great. Making a new friend is always an adventure; you learn about them and teach them about you, forging a special bond that we might have hoped would develop into something more, but kept at a certain distance by our hesitant nature. Before we knew it, our new friend was also hanging out with our old friends, and below all the camaraderie, all the good cheer, all the fun... grew a tiny seed of jealousy. Before we knew it we found ourselves competing for the new "friend's" attention. We had to make sure they knew we were the most interesting, or the smartest, or had the most to offer. We could sense the rivalry in the air, and we weren't above putting lifelong friendships at risk for a fantasy relationship that might not even happen, nevertheless we were competing with each other now, for a prize that none of us knew wasn't worth it.

          Unbeknownst to us, this new "friend" most likely didn't have any interest in us, or our culture, and in fact may have laughed at our expense with their other friends when we parted ways after hanging out. This was one of the worst examples of humanity, one who sees themselves as something to be put on a pedestal, a self-proclaimed god among mortals who didn't find that kind of validation in their usual circles. So what would they do? They would venture into new territory, where they could put forth the minimum amount of effort necessary to garner attention, and then play the waiting game until the citizens of this new circle were suddenly at each others throats competing for their attention. And like an old cliche, we played right into their hands.

          It wouldn't be until puberty came down to a simmer and small nuggets of hard-earned wisdom finally crystallized in our heads that we would figure out exactly what had happened, and hopefully not before any true friendships were put at risk. It was a lesson we had learned the hard way, and it was one we would not soon forget. On top of every other paranoid theory that might have been seeping in the back of our minds, the fact that someone might only pretend to be interested in us in order to inflate their own ego with our attention was now among them.

          If you've read this far, I admire your ability to concentrate through my seemingly endless rambling and I promise you, the point is being driven home soon.

          It was this lesson that caused the hatred towards anyone that might be falsifying their geekhood to further their own agenda. We didn't want to be burned like that ever again, and so we became paranoid, distrusting, and angry. Suddenly anyone claiming to be a nerd or a geek had to prove themselves; trivia, video game skill, the size of their comic book collection, it didn't matter. We were looking for any reason to shut someone out of the safety of our own circle. And shameful as it was, it was women who suffered most from this. Any girl even moderately attractive by general standards who uttered anything like "oh, I love the Harry Potter books!" was immediately put under suspicion, and just because they couldn't remember the breeds of dragons in book four, or how students survived the basilisk attacks in book two, we shunned them, telling them to their face that they weren't a "real nerd".

          Looking back I can't believe I was ever that cold. Here someone might have been looking for somewhere to belong, where they could share their common interests with us, a safe place where they could be themselves. And like overpaid bouncers at an expensive nightclub we told them to scram, get lost, we don't want you here. We can't know how far the ripples of our actions go, all we can do is try to make those actions affect others in a positive way, and back then I failed spectacularly.

          So here it is, to anyone out there who might be reading this, to anyone I excluded because suspicion and antitrust clouded my good conscience, to anyone I denied the right to feel welcomed in a culture where anyone should be allowed to participate, from the bottom of my heart.

          I Am Sorry.

          I don't expect any sort of forgiveness, it was a shit thing to do. I should have known better, especially having seen the inside of far too many trash cans and lockers growing up. It's never okay to exclude somebody just because you think they'd just end up revealing themselves to be a wolf in sheep's clothing. This long-winded apology is just a small sentiment of what's truly owed to you, which was the chance to make new friends, a chance to belong, a chance to see that this planet isn't completely populated by assholes. That's a chance I took from you, and I can never give it back, and once again, I am sorry.