So, last April I posted this thing in which I posited that playing Ms. Pac-Man as a very small boy had gotten me used to playing as female characters in video games and hah wasn’t that enlightened for a young lad in Nebraska. I didn’t honestly put that much thought into it.
Note that I do not claim that this represents an early awakening into being some sort of progressive paragon. I still regularly make game purchase decisions based largely, if not solely, on the quantity and quality of waifus on offer.
But it does serve as an amusing lead-in to last night’s company-sponsored outing to a local barcade. We all got two drink tickets and a pocket full of quarters, so I got my rum & coke and went to find the Ms. Pac-Man machine, thoughtfully nestled in between a Galaga and a Pac-Man.
A few minutes later, my boss – who is a little younger than me, so in his late 30s, and who comes from a much more liberal background than panhandle Nebraska – comes over and watches me for a bit.
Then he asks “why are you playing Ms. Pac-Man when there’s a regular Pac-Man right there?”
So I guess I get to feel a little enlightened. I will let that keep the feelings of guilt and shame away as I play through my next dozen smutty visual novels.