I feel the need to be honest with you, dear reader.
I don't know what I'm doing.
I am not a gamer. I never have been. All I remember of gaming in my childhood is Mario, Nintendo and an old television that required a monkey wrench to change the channel. It was in my basement and I would play with my brother because I thought he was the coolest. All the while, he was just really hoping he had a brother instead of the moron sitting next to him with pigtails and Tinkerbell perfume.
After my brother finally got real friends, however, my gaming pretty much stopped. I didn't pick up a controller for years and lost all appreciation for running through pipes and jumping on turtles.
I would nod and laugh with people when they reminisced about their gaming good times, all the while secretly judging them for being total nerds.
Soon the secret judging turned into blatant judging and I found myself too cool for school – or rather, too cool for video games since I actually really loved school and math and stuff. Now that I think about it, I may have been a loser.
Fast-forward to three weeks ago when I was required to write the video game article for my university newspaper. I told my co-workers I would write it only if I could write it as a novice—or "neophyte" to tie the blog name into things—and make it humourous.
People seemed to enjoy it and my gaming friend loved the chance to teach me the ways of nerddom, finally getting the chance to convert me as she'd always hoped she could.
We played for three hours and I wrote 2400 words.
And here we are.
Let the gaming begin.