Not 15 minutes ago, I was in my living room, playing my housemate in the greatest game ever invented. By humans. It goes by a little name of Super Smash Brothers. And yes, the 64 edition. I don't need those hyped up GameCube graphics. 64-bit puts food on the table. Anyway. I am Samus. Not 'I play as Samus' or 'I'm really good as Samus.' No no, I am Samus. And my housemate plays Fox. We're playing at the Donkey Kong place (you know, the one with the barrel on the bottom) and he is winning. Computer Jigglypuff was gone ages ago, and Computer Donkey Kong is hanging on by a thread. I pick up the Home Run Bat, and Housemate Fox falls into the barrel. At the bottom right of the platform, CDK is standing at the bottom of the ramp, and I, glorious Samus, am up the slope from him.

Time slows down.
I connect! Donkey Kong's arms never reach the ground. Fox never gets a chance to land. All that is left on our 8-foot diagonal projection screen is Samus, magnificently performing the perfect follow through, two diminishing trails of smoke leading off the screen and into the heavens. I, Samus, rock.
1 comment:
How proud is Samus' mother?
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