Adventures in Middle-Aged Gaming: My Six Year Old’s Zangief Owns My Fei Long!

After the nightmare of changing diapers and watching Sesame Street passes, and a child becomes a somewhat interesting human being that actually can do stuff, a light appears at the end of the tunnel for we middle-aged gamers. There is a point when your spawn gets to be around 8 months old that he or she becomes aware of whether you are chain-sawing someone’s face off in a game, and so your gaming revolves around Music, Sports, and Racing games.  The occasional downloadable retro game can break the monotony but, for the most part, it’s G-rated gaming until the little so and so gets to around 6 or 7.

Now, The Street Fighter franchise has been a part of my gaming history for a very long time.  Many hours were wasted in arcades as well as perched in front of a TV with Super Street Fighter II Turbo, usually losing to my younger brother.  Between matches we would file down the calluses on our thumbs, and try to avoid moisturizing cream.  Something that was more challenging to avoid when I was much younger.  *Ahem*

So anyway, after a couple of chats with the boy about acting out the moves in the playground  and the cartoonish aspect of the graphics in SFIV I introduced him to the game.  He was initially awkward of course.  But the sense that he was getting to play a ‘œTeen’ game was so enticing to him that he clearly was attracted by the acknowledgement of his maturation.  So, as he didn’t go to school and try to axe-murder anyone, I continued to let him play.  Also I was happy as fuck that I could finally play something other than Wii Sports or Mariokart during daytime hours.

So, it begins…

Now, I am quite frankly pretty awful at SFIV.  I don’t get the combos, I can’t be bothered to research the strategies, and simply put, online games are an exercise in futility.  Older gamers just don’t have the reflexes, and we know this.  I just like throwing fire balls, nailing the odd dragon punch as one of the shoto-characters, and leering lasciviously at Cammy.  It was a very proud moment to have my son turn to me at one point and say; ‘œDaddy, that song they’re playing, what’s it called?’  ‘œIt’s called ‘˜Indestructible’ can’t ya tell? Why do you ask?’  ‘œWell, it kinda sucks Daddy; I don’t like it.  Why would they put that song in Street Fighter?’  ‘œI don’t know buddy.  No one does.’

During matches I often won, but I also took care to throw a few matches as well as I didn’t want the little guy to get too frustrated.  Being the thoughtful parent I am I also made a point of frequently saying things like; ‘œgood try’; ‘œyou’ll get better’; ‘œyou almost beat me that time.’

Most often I did say though, ‘œyou’re getting better buddy, next time try to block a little.’

And as the winter faded, Matty slowly got better, he used Zangief and Blanka as his mains for obvious reasons; Zangief is big, and, to a young boy he seems like the best option, and Blanka’s Electric Thunder Special move is easy to nail as all you have to do is spam one attack button.  It was after I mapped Zangief’s spin-evasion to the R2 button and he stopped using the D-Pad and went to the analog on the PS3 controller that Matty’s game got considerably better.  The ability to evade my fireball using the analog stick brought things together for him.  With little hands, the PS3 analog stick is pretty much an arcade stick.

But, after a while, Blanka’s weaknesses became too obvious, even to a six year old.  And Matty continued to main Zangief but also started working on Ken after seeing the fire balls and dragon punches.  So I showed him how to nail a few of Ken’s moves.  And he started to get it.  The fire ball came along occasionally, and while I still won every match I wanted to, it started to get close.  Until, well he started to win.  And yes, I was supportive and pleased…outwardly.  I praised him for being so smart and quick to learn and-and-and…  Internally?

I was in a rage!  Goddammit!  It’s bad enough that I have to have my ass handed to me in every fucking game I ever play online by one of you snotty little cocksuckers.  Now my own son, the best thing that has ever happened to my life, owns my ass too.  From Call of Duty  4, to Killzone 2, to even fucking Fat Princess which shouldn’t have anything to do with reflexes; I still lose!  Auuuugh!  Fuck-fuck-fuck-fucking-fuckity-fuckfuckfuck!  *Phew*  That was really cathartic…

But the crowning glory was just the other day when his Zangief jumped out of the way of my Fei Long Super, grabbed me and performed the Spinning Piledriver for the win.  He turned to me, somewhat sheepishly-almost sensing that he had truly won that one, and said with genuine concern; ‘œDaddy, next time maybe you should block more.’

Image: IGN