Paging Father Time
Author :        Date : 31-Jan-12

This past weekend my brother and I had our quarterly Gaming Night.  His perk for being the host was selecting the main game for the evening.  To my dismay, an online battle with Modern Warfare 3 was his choice.

I had been down this road before with him in another Call of Duty installment.  Let me tell you – it was not pretty.  The beating I previously endured is the type normally reserved for runaway sister wives.  I would like to report that I redeemed myself this past gaming session, but unfortunately that is not the case.

Virtual bullets ripped apart my gaming warrior for the better part of 25 straight minutes.  My online ‘posse’, initially understanding and helpful, soon grew tired of my abysmal performance.  Just like my agent of war, my psyche was continually peppered as I took verbal fire from comments like "Dude, what are you doing???" and "Get a clue, bro!!".  It got to be so ugly that some frustrated guy on our team named DeathSqud32 decided to take a more direct approach with me.  During one of our matches, he stuck his Desert Eagle directly into my grill and uttered the simple words "You suck" just before emptying its contents straight into my melon.

Initially I was pretty torqued off at having that slug planted squarely into my coconut.  Granted, I pretty much stunk up the joint and probably deserved it.  But what irritated me the most was having to deal with the silent assassin that uniquely inhabited this greybeard’s virtual battlefield – Father Time.

In contrast to the straightforward method employed by DeathSquad32, I have found that Father Time prefers the Death by 1000 Cuts approach.  Just like a dreaded termite, he stealthily devours my log cabin of gaming skills bit by bit.  For the most part, I am unaware of the damage that has been inflicted until I attempt to compete in the virtual arena – where I continually get my butt kicked.

It seemed not so long ago that I could wield my gaming prowess like King Arthur once brandished Excalibur – nowadays, not so much.  In spite of all of my efforts, this old gamer is struggling mightily and needs some assistance.  Who better to ask than the one who stalks me on a daily basis?  With this in mind, the following email train ensued: 

From     : Marriott_Guy []
To       : Father Time []
Subject  : HELP!

Dear Father Time.

Let me start by stating I am pretty much past dealing with my mid-life crisis.  From the daily juggling of medications to the inability to jump, overall I think I am handling the aging process rather well.  There is one exception – video gaming.

I know I can’t master games like in my hey-day, but getting beaten to a pulp every time is really starting to get old (pun intended).  I know your plate is probably full, but is there anyway you can help out with this situation?

Best regards,


From     : Father Time []
To       : Marriott_Guy []
Subject  : RE: HELP!


I usually do not respond to underlings.  Be grateful that I am in a good mood this afternoon.

I won’t sugarcoat it – your game is leaking some serious oil.  According to my records, you better thank your brother for inviting you to their online gaming party because it would take a miracle for ANYONE else even to consider it.  Don’t believe me?  Take a look.

No bones about it, your game is just plain brutal.  And, before you even ask, the answer is NO.  You cannot reallocate those life experience points – that is my domain.  You blew any chance of negotiating this by wasting away your Armor Enhancement slot on a Gaming Blankie.

Now get lost and quit bothering me.

Father Time.

PS.  A Gaming Blankie???  Really???  For Pete’s sake, grow a set!!

From     : Marriott_Guy []
To       : Father Time []
Subject  : RE: HELP!

So I guess I should just chuck any plans on being able to compete in the upcoming Final Fantasy XV?

From     : Father Time []
To       : Marriott_Guy []
Subject  : RE: HELP!

Do not test my patience.
I can’t exactly say this was the response I was looking for, but overall I am not overly disappointed.  Father Time was as subtle as a sledgehammer in pointing out my glaring weaknesses, but this I already knew.  What he did not correctly identify was the competitive fire that is still ablaze within this blue-haired gamer.

The online thrashings will inevitably continue, but that does not mean that I will relegate myself to Extreme Chess tournaments as Father Time somewhat insinuated.  Though my gaming skills continue to erode like a sand castle at high tide, you will still find this elder battling out there in the digital world – Gaming Blankie and all.

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