I can’t play Grand Theft Auto anymore.
The feather-sensitive gun controls and the difficulty of driving and worse, flying the airplane, have caused me endless frustration. I crashed the airplane literally twenty-nine times in a row, and I cannot complete the mission. The more I fail, the more determined I become to succeed. Combined with the insanely bad language, intense and gory violence, and pervasive cruelty infused into the dialogue, it finally got to me.
I stalked about for four hours today in a terrible mood. I said mean things to my wife I didn’t really mean. I’m impatient with my pets.
A video game should be fun. And it should be something you can walk away from. Good for Rockstar Games that they’ve made something that intense. And maybe if you’re really good at video games you won’t encounter the problems and frustrations I did. But the real-world social and psychological expense, at least this weekend, was too high. I’m taking the disc out and not putting it back in until I know I can handle it.