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Metal Gear Solid is an obsession for millions of gamers, with its totally insane science-fiction storytelling. But at its heart, the series has always been about celebrating and questioning the power of technology. The story of Solid Snake, Raiden, and Snake's evil dad Big Boss (it's... a long story) isn't just ridiculously fun, it's also a terrific vehicle for asking the kind of questions that science fiction has always asked, at its best.


I'd never played a Grand Theft Auto before. I mean, I understood the draw, but ever since I'd played Mafia, I felt no beckon to follow The Sopranos through an open-world Manhattan de-make. Wise guy this, blip-blap that. The whole rigamarole sounded like a chore, really. On top of that, my new girrrrrrrrlfriend and I clearly had better things to do.


In line for Nintendo's booth, Terence Polk checked his smartphone and chitchatted about what he'd come to review. "Super Mario 3D Land," he said, because he was sceptical -- not because he was thrilled by what he'd seen in Nintendo's presentation. It was the second day of E3. In Winston-Salem, North Carolina.


The Commodore 64 turns 30 today. Reams of copy have been written in tribute to this machine. It wasn't the first personal computer, but it truly was one that democratized them to millions of middle-class households. Releasing in August, 1982, it stepped into the breach a year later, when console video gaming, as we knew it then, utterly collapsed.


Three days home, sick, with the complete understanding and sympathy of my employer. Fully conscious and ambulatory, with some grade-A camaro-drivin', country-music-songwritin', shirtless-guy-on-COPS prescription narcotics on the bathroom sink. Can't go outside and enjoy this nice day, cause I'm sick. Can't work, I'm sick. Can't brush my teeth, put on deodorant or underpants or mow the lawn or call my mum, sick.


This Saturday was about as throwing-things livid I've been over a sports contest in a decade. The last time I was this angry was in 2003, when Jorge Posada doubled off of Pedro Martinez to tie the seventh game of the American League Championship Series. I kicked a rubbish bin across the newsroom of the Rocky Mountain News and cursed Grady Little and his mother. Brian Crecente asked the supervising editor to reprimand me.


All my friend wanted was a simple, get-rid-of-it-on-Craigslist estimate for an original Xbox, two controllers, and about a dozen games. He knew that what he had was too common in its time, too obsolete in the present, to qualify as some latter-day Antiques Roadshow jackpot. Still, I couldn't bring myself to appraise it at $US25. At that price, I could see him leaving it by the curb, sitting sadly on an old chair with a "FREE" sign, to be claimed by scavengers or the garbage man.


I was adjusting my costume atop a skyscraper in Gotham City when a tour bus soared up into view and hovered there. There was a red diamond on my mini-map, meaning an enemy human player. If Had I created Wile E. Coyote here in D.C. Universe Online, I would have cowered under a tiny umbrella, or a sign that said "Yipe!"


Parting with one's treasured game collection can be an unthinkable proposition for many. But having a baby absolutely transforms your life, as one long-tenured Kotaku US commenter writes. And that makes such decisions not only possible, but downright necessary.