My Little sister is the best. She is a bit like a mini-me only she loves math and will probably be Prime Minister some day. It makes sense that she would be influenced by her elder sibling’s love of video games, so when she texted me a month or so ago asking if she should get a PS3 or an Xbox I jumped on the opportunity to educate her.
She ultimately got a PS3 for Christmas (good. I basically told her that she needed it in order to play Final Fantasy VII, which is integral in one’s gaming theory.) I had the best intentions to send her FFVII as a gift, assuming I could send an online copy via the PS Store as a gift (you can’t, thanks, Playstation.) Never mind, I thought to myself, I’ll get her something that I’ve loved over the years. I will force the things I have enjoyed on her!
Decisions, decisions. She’s played some of Bioshock Infinite already and enjoyed it. Same with Borderlands 1 and 2. Those are good stories, strong narratives, interesting characters. But along with video games, math, and all things French, my sister also loves writing. I know when I was her age being exposed to strong narratives through video games helped me appreciate what goes into different media in order to create an all-immersing experience. No, my little sister deserved something epic to sink her teeth into.
The Last of Us. It was the perfect option. Witty dialogue, a heart wrenching story, and difficult enough that it would challenge her. Okay, yeah, sort of gory, maybe not totally appropriate for a teenager but she is ridiculously mature for her age. It’ll be fine. So, I order it for her, so proud, have it sent to her address. She is going to love it, I tell myself. This will be great.
The husband and I go out for Valentine’s Dinner, I tell him how happy I am with the purchase. He looks aghast.
“You know that’s rated M, right? For Mature?”
“What? No, it’s teen, isn’t it?”
“With all that violence and gore? And aren’t there sexual innuendos in it?”
“Well, yeah, there’s that one scene where you are playing Ellie and she is running for her life and… oh… god.”
“She’ll be fifteen in a couple months!”
“Good, then in three more years she can play it.”
Basically I am waiting to get a phone call from my little sister’s mum where she rages on me for buying her daughter a video game where if you get caught by an infected you die by getting your head crushed between its big ol’ hands.
But the story is just so good.