Views From The Mainstream

The video games.

They’ve come a long way since the Pac-Men. The invaders from space have been silenced, their piercing screams that once echoed throughout smoke-filled arcade halls, are naught but blips. They came for our children and they took them. They ascended that hellish graphics spire to an infinite fiery dimension and they never returned. That Ms Pac-Man, she had lipstick didn’t she? She winked at me once. It was quite the experience let me tell you.

The video games go blop-bleep-blop and it’s the billion dollar industry now. The Calls Of Duties ring proud, those savage bells of war — they herald a new digital age. The explosions are explosive and the guns are more gunnier than we’ve ever seen before. Sparkling in that light, the source from which I cannot deduce. The night sky, those stars. That haunting moon.

Video games. This is Jon Jonno Johnson. Reporting.

I have children. Long grown up. Flown from the nest to warmer climes. To the city, where the harpies shriek loud in Taxi ranks and Ubers flow like some unearthly wine through the streets of the Inner West. The beards are bushy and the liquor is sweet. The vapes. That vapour. My children are gone now. They have jobs and mobile phones that vibrate in tightly fitted jeans.

My children played the video games. Can you believe that?

I still recall the scents, those Christmas mornings. The sherry, the rum, the port that swirled in my glass as they tore that wrapping paper like ravenous unicorn wolves to reveal that most priceless of treasures: the Nintendo box.

That Nintendo box: that cauldron of spells. Graphical spells that danced like the danciest dancers across my televisual screen. The laughter that echoes in the empty chamber that once contained my beating heart: this is the source of the mirth that sustains me. The video games. Those video games.

Video games have come a long way since the days of pong; horizontal bars moving successfully across a single plane. A long way from square balls and scoreboards. Of dials that dialled to the heavens. Video games.

The video games. I am reporting the video games.

My wife is dead now. I buried her in a lonely grave but I don’t blame the video games. It is the children they corrupt, not the parents. The adults are immune. Our brains are too strong, our flesh hardened. The elements have tested our wiry, sinewed frames and they’ve met their match.

So too have the video games. We can best them. In every facet of our fibres we are the superiors.

But the children. The children we must protect. The children we must save. I may be fuelled by that laughter in my heart. But who can tell? Does that laughter have a side so dark it could swallow the sun?

Some scientists think too much video games is bad for the children.

Some scientists say the opposite of that.

This is Jon ‘Jonno’ Jonson.


You can follow Jon 'Jonno' Jonson on Twitter.


    "Pac-Men" ?

    Haha! It's pronounced 'Pokémon'.


    Still liked this one from years back:

    That's a better death stare than some mother-in-laws can do.


    Nice imaginative parents there...

    "Hmm, I wonder what to call our son...?" - Mrs Jonson
    "How about Steve, or Bruce, or Mark?" - Mr Jonson
    "Nah they all suck, how about Jon?" - Mrs Jonson

    "guns are more gunnier..." You bastard!

    Now I have "stars are the shootiest" stuck in my head!

      The owls are the hootiest

    Bonus laughs: his first tweets are a piss take of a Polygon author who doesn't understand how the PS4 buttons work.

    I'd get fired if I turned up at work that drunk.

    Mr. Jonson, what is your take on the scientifically proven link between violent video games and every single mass shooting that has occurred since 1955? Are games turning all of our children into murderers, or only some of them? The remainder in the latter option of course will likely become sex offenders, but I haven't paid anyone to publish the results of that study yet.

      I like video games, are you saying that because I like video games I am gun-man? I bet you wouldn't be saying that if I had a gun

    I can get on board with these shenanigans. Sounds like the Mongo talk my friends and I would espouse on crazy Sunday mornings all those years ago. Good times.

    You had me until "My wife is dead now. I buried her in a lonely grave but I don’t blame the video games. yada yada yada"
    wtf is this shit? a parody?

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