Hitched.

Allow me to beat a dead horse: I do not play as many video games as I used to. Or, at least, I’m playing them on different devices now. My time with the screen-hogging, explosive, DAY ONE ZOMG, blockbuster is nearly at an end. I just don’t have the time or self-confidence to whittle away my hours being called “faggot” on XBox Live. I do not derive any particular joy from beating a game and then stepping up the difficulty level so that I can take longer to beat it again, but this get angrier in the process. I am not now nor ever have been an achievements whore. My primary gaming devices are a Nintendo DS and an iPod Touch. I am the person currently dismantling the big-budget gaming paradigm.

So when I sat down to squeeze in a few hours of Resident Evil 5, I had forgotten entirely about the fact that you can’t move and shoot. Or stab. And you know what? Okay, fine. It’s history/habit/realistic, pick one or 3, whatever. But it’s worst sin is that it reminds me that I am holding a controller. That I’m piloting a man.

If the hobby is, in its deep heart of hearts, about escapism, then the stop-’n-shoot of Resident Evil 5, with its big, huge action set pieces, is essentially unforgivable. More than being annoying, it just makes me feel like I’m playing with a toy.

Carry on.