On gaming masochism

    I have no idea why I picked 4am in the pitch darkness on my own to start playing FEAR 2 again- on surround sound no less. I can tell you this, the game is not named ironically. I think I had so many heart attacks that they canceled each-other out and formed a consistent average heartbeat. Impressively, in one one respect anyway, the terror does not just come from jumpy modern horror movie style moments. I mean that's a no brainer, I am sure Viva Pinata could make you jump if you turned out the lights and maybe took some LSD, but that's besides the point. FEAR 2 does a brilliant job at building up the tension, as with its predecessor. Eerie string music and ambient sound serve to build up some serious involuntary urination often to no end. I cant think of how often I have been expecting my face to be ripped off by scary demon children, spending 10 minutes building up the testicular fortitude to walk around a corner only to stroll into an empty room or encounter some average non-threatening peons. Well as far as FEAR is concerned, I consider a team of soldiers packing machine guns and body armor to be non-threatening. The visuals also help paint an ominous mental image. Corridors strewn with organs and bloody child-sized footprints usually work as a progress deterrent. I mean, just take a look at this screenshot. Can you blame me for not wanting to stick my head in there? 

Wii has come out

Ultimately I have come to the conclusion that playing FEAR in this way is an extreme act of masochism and I must be trying to kill myself through the medium of game. Well it sure beats interpretive dance, at least. Psychological terror aside, FEAR 2 works really well as a shooter. Who would have expected that? I would even go as far as to say it has  helped to hone my reactions when it comes to FPS titles. After a section of the game spent creeping through the bowels of the earth jumping at the slightest movement and shotgunning your own reflection, you are thrown into a built up urban area post nuclear blast and given a sniper rifle to play with. Now I would like to think of myself as a decent sniper at the best of times, but with the highly attuned schizoid reflexes I had developed after simply a few hours of FEAR, I found this part incredibly easy. I was doming bad guys left right and center at the rate of Superman on a speed & coffee bender. I was Fredrick Zoller, Mark Wahlberg and Lee Harvey Oswald all rolled into one. I think all first person shooters should now be played after a healthy dose of terror, so before I next jump on Battlefield 3 I am going to play chicken with a train. Wish me luck.