Obviously fascinated by my video game prowess and wanting to hear more, Nancy asks, “Helly, have you ever considered doing one of those online games to make money like Scott? Because why not???”
The answer is easily understood even if you don’t play video games. I don’t want to play online because I am embarrassed by the symptoms of a very rare, little-known disease from which I suffer, which would have gone undiagnosed if not for the exemplary observational skills and intense intellect of my brother. I’m writing, of course, about video-game dyslexia, or “Hellybeans Syndrome”, the name by which it is referred in the New England Journal of Medicine (vol. 350, #19, 1925 - 2015, e17).
Video-game Dyslexia manifests itself by inverting the amount of skill required by the difficulty of a given gaming task. For example, say I’m playing a game and the character is in a room with only one door, and all you have to do to leave the room is walk the character up to the door, which will automatically open. I will remain trapped in said room for hours searching for a key, a button, a battering ram, an escape code, etc. HOURS, I tell you - until I finally resort to Gamefaqs.com. Or, a character needs to jump across a chasm - I will try over and over and over-to-the-ten-millionth-power to make this jump without success. If I ever make it, say on the 10-million-and-first try, I will get killed by an enemy immediately upon landing and have to start over, until finally I summon my brother from a nearby town to drive 40 miles and get me past the level (this requires beer).
The converse symptom of Video-game Dyslexia is that, as much as ridiculously difficult tasks elude me, so easily do the difficult tasks come. Suppose there is a Boss Enemy in a game, so hard to beat that there are whole FAQs dedicated to this Boss on Gamefaqs and myriad posts on the message boards concerning hints, tips and strategy - a Boss so difficult that gamers freely admit to ripping the DVD out of the game and Frisbeeing it across the room after yet another spanking at the Boss’s merciless tentacles. This Boss, I will beat so easily and effortlessly that when the aforementioned brother calls to ask, “How in THE HELL did you get past XYZ Boss?”, I will only vaguely remember the event and ask, in all innocence, “I dunno, just put the smackdown on him. Why, is it supposed to be hard?” [most famous example: Emerald Weapon, Final Fantasy 7]
However, shame over my ineptitude and the numerous opportunities for same far outweigh my pride in my moments of triumph. I don’t want anyone else to witness my incompetence, so I am unable to compete in the online forum. World of Warcraft is safe from me, at least at present. I take comfort in the fact that I am young, and doctors may yet discover a cure for Hellybeans Syndrome; someday, I and gamers like me will not have to hide in the gloom of our living rooms, but can game freely amongst society. Our day will come! *shakes PS2 controller skyward*
The answer is easily understood even if you don’t play video games. I don’t want to play online because I am embarrassed by the symptoms of a very rare, little-known disease from which I suffer, which would have gone undiagnosed if not for the exemplary observational skills and intense intellect of my brother. I’m writing, of course, about video-game dyslexia, or “Hellybeans Syndrome”, the name by which it is referred in the New England Journal of Medicine (vol. 350, #19, 1925 - 2015, e17).
Video-game Dyslexia manifests itself by inverting the amount of skill required by the difficulty of a given gaming task. For example, say I’m playing a game and the character is in a room with only one door, and all you have to do to leave the room is walk the character up to the door, which will automatically open. I will remain trapped in said room for hours searching for a key, a button, a battering ram, an escape code, etc. HOURS, I tell you - until I finally resort to Gamefaqs.com. Or, a character needs to jump across a chasm - I will try over and over and over-to-the-ten-millionth-power to make this jump without success. If I ever make it, say on the 10-million-and-first try, I will get killed by an enemy immediately upon landing and have to start over, until finally I summon my brother from a nearby town to drive 40 miles and get me past the level (this requires beer).
The converse symptom of Video-game Dyslexia is that, as much as ridiculously difficult tasks elude me, so easily do the difficult tasks come. Suppose there is a Boss Enemy in a game, so hard to beat that there are whole FAQs dedicated to this Boss on Gamefaqs and myriad posts on the message boards concerning hints, tips and strategy - a Boss so difficult that gamers freely admit to ripping the DVD out of the game and Frisbeeing it across the room after yet another spanking at the Boss’s merciless tentacles. This Boss, I will beat so easily and effortlessly that when the aforementioned brother calls to ask, “How in THE HELL did you get past XYZ Boss?”, I will only vaguely remember the event and ask, in all innocence, “I dunno, just put the smackdown on him. Why, is it supposed to be hard?” [most famous example: Emerald Weapon, Final Fantasy 7]
However, shame over my ineptitude and the numerous opportunities for same far outweigh my pride in my moments of triumph. I don’t want anyone else to witness my incompetence, so I am unable to compete in the online forum. World of Warcraft is safe from me, at least at present. I take comfort in the fact that I am young, and doctors may yet discover a cure for Hellybeans Syndrome; someday, I and gamers like me will not have to hide in the gloom of our living rooms, but can game freely amongst society. Our day will come! *shakes PS2 controller skyward*
2 Comments:
Hellybeans or no Hellybeans- my babygirl is the BESTEST GAMER!
mom
ps-can you really Ride a ChoChoBo(sp)??
By
Anonymous, at 11:31 AM
I caught a Chocobo on just my 2nd try, biatch! I ride a Chocobo in my sleep! That's how I roll! :-)
By
Helly, at 11:59 AM
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