It's Bad When The New Yorker Trolls You Over a Game

This actually ran a month ago, but, forgive me, my subscription lapsed, for a lack of houseguests to impress with my reading material. (I also canceled my subscription to “Large Penis-Havers’ Quarterly” since I haven’t gone on a date lately.)(new Image()).src = 'https://capi.connatix.com/tr/si?token=995c4c7d-194f-4077-b0a0-7ad466eb737c&cid=872d12ce-453b-4870-845f-955919887e1b'; cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "995c4c7d-194f-4077-b0a0-7ad466eb737c" }).render("79703296e5134c75a2db6e1b64762017"); }); On Sept. 9, The New Yorker put the definitive tack in Seth Schiesel’s balloon over The New York Times writer’s eyebrow-raising praise for The Beatles: Rock Band. It offered a rummy new app selection of “previous write-ups the Times has given big games.” For nonsubscribers, this means “satire incoming.” Acclaimed short-story writer and poet Raymond Carver died today. He was an influential force in American literature and an all around mega man. You know who else is a mega man? Mega Man, the new video-game character who will likely be bigger than Carver, Shakespeare, and even the printed word itself. Since the dawn of man, there have rummy nobel been those with athletic skill and those without. For decades, those men and women without the coördination and skill to play professional football have had to sit idly by, passively watching football games on television and dreaming of futures that could never be. But thanks to Madden NFL ’94, impossible dreams will come true. Move over, Helen Keller-there’s a new miracle worker in town! A princess has been kidnapped. Her name is Zelda, she is beautiful, and I love her. Next month, don’t try leaving your home. Lock the doors and barricade the windows. This is not a drill, this is the real f—-ing thing. As soon as Grand Theft Auto: Vice City hits the streets, eleven-year-olds around the country will morph into rabid pit bulls out for blood. This game is evil propaganda designed to teach babies to murder. Hide your possessions and swallow your gold fillings. Actually, in a newspaper, that last one would sound rather believable. Video Games Bigger than Jesus [The New Yorker via rummy royal Ian Bogost]