Shenmue 2 irritated me so much and so intensely that I was forced to experiment with different titles. This hatred - this seething, burning, enduring rage - is what ultimately led to me playing more games. Shenmue 2 was much smarter than I was and I hated it for that. I tried to be indiscriminate in what I played, and so I attempted to get through Shenmue 2 multiple times but never got more than an hour in before throwing a tantrum typical of an idiot five-year-old. I would pay good money to learn which games I actually owned for it - I think I had more than five but less than ten, and on top of Halo: Combat Evolved and Shenmue 2 we had Crimson Skies and Amped, which, in hindsight, were two certified bangers. My admission of playing Halo serves as subtle confirmation of the fact I had an Xbox. That was pretty much it: Nintendo and space bullets.
I played Pokemon and Zelda non-stop and would slyly sneak goes of much-too-shootybangy-for-a-five-year-old Halo in the back room whenever my mam and dad weren’t looking.
Did I play lots and lots of video games as a child? In some ways, yes. How does one end up writing about video games for a living? Well, first and foremost, by playing lots and lots of video games. It’s what I am doing right now, sitting at my PC with lukewarm coffee and a slowly growing hunger that’s going to start seriously annoying me in around an hour.
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