I killed a man by running over him in my car.
I didn’t mean it. I was forced by love and stupidity to do it. There I was, nervously perched on the couch, a meth head planning a bank heist who just ran over an innocent man. And all because I was pushed into my boyfriend’s stupid hobby.
I can’t watch them, I don’t want to listen to them and I certainly, CERTAINLY do not want to play them. The content, the violence, the creepy characters, the extra-screen time in a world that doesn’t really need any more. I’m just not that into it.
It’s something I’ve made pretty clear to my boyfriend, who is a human moth to an X Box flame. But does that stop him from asking me to play?
Nope. Every day, it’s ‘look what I did. If you just play this little bit you might like it’. “Why don’t you try THIS game? There aren’t any strip clubs in this one.”