Video games have got ninjas, knights, elves, apes, demons, demon killers, space marines, cops, rookie cops, bad cops, dog cops, special agents, robots, psychotic AI, skeletons, scientists, mutants, big dudes in diving suits, dudes that can shift time, dudes with big swords, dudes with crowbars, dudes that can shoryuken the shit out of cars, dudes that are like Indiana Jones, dudes that hide in boxes, dudes with wings, dudes in space suits, chicks in space suits, chicks in bikinis, chicks with magic hair, chicks that are repeatedly kidnapped by a turtle, chicks who help dudes with crowbars, chicks that can run up buildings, chicks that are like Indiana Jones...
Christmas has got a fat old dude in a red suit.
Moral choices. In games it's a simple case of deciding whether you want to be good or bad. And even if you decide to do something properly shitty, like blow up an orphanage or set fire to a donkey sanctuary, you're not really going to lose any sleep over it. Because it's just pretend. It's a game. It doesn't matter
But Christmas constantly presents moral choices that can make you feel really terrible about yourself. Example. You have promised your dear old grandma that you'll visit her on Christmas Day. She lives in a tiny flat with nothing to keep her company but a poorly maintained electric fire. Christmas Day comes and goes and you choose not to keep your promise because you've got too many new games to play and dry roasted peanuts to stuff in your face and beer to get drunk on or whatever. You don't even bother phoning to wish her a Merry Christmas because she can't hear too good and you never really have much to say to her anyway. She dies on Boxing Day and you feel guilty for the rest of your life.
Video games won't ever make you feel that bad.
All the sparkly fairy lights in the world can't disguise the fact that Christmas shopping is an aimless shamble of human desperation and only slightly less miserable than getting trapped down a mine.
Above: This is pretty much exactly like Christmas shopping. The shovel represents hope
In comparison, the last time I went shopping in a video game, I bought a net for catching bugs from a man in a hot air balloon. It made me smile.
Multiplayer at Christmas can be defined as something like carol singing on a crisp winter's evening or partaking in a round of Trivial Pursuits with a few glasses of sherry. It could even involve playing an actual video game with members of the family who - for the other 364 days of the year - never normally have any interest in video games whatsoever. Either way, whatever form Christmas multiplayer takes, thank the Lord of Christmastide that it only comes but once a year because participating in these activities for anything more than a day would be a bleak prospect indeed.
Above: Carol singing. Balls to that
In comparison, video game multiplayer is funsville 12 months of the year. This is mostly because it doesn't require us to be in close physical proximity of other human beings. Which is a massive advantage. Generally, though, the pursuits of video game multiplayer are more engaging, more visceral, more thrilling, more intelligent, more tactical, more intense and much more shooty than anything that happens when someone at Christmas utters those terrifying words that nobody apart from your mum ever wants to hear: "Let's play a game!"
Video game cosplay:
I have nothing else to add.
And that's me. If you can think of any more reasons why video games totally kicks Christmas' ass, please go wild in the comments. But as of now I'm officially on holiday. I'm done. All that's left to say is Merry Chrimbles to you all.
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