Mom has heard me talk plenty about games as a narrative art (since that's my area of study and general passion in life), and she understands the artistic viability of the medium. I even played Heavy Rain for her so she could watch it like a movie, and she made most of the choices and such. She really liked it, understandably so. But she does not seem to see much value in the time I spend playing them or, to a lesser extent, even the time spent making my own game for which I am project director. But Mom doesn't play much; I think the most "hardcore" game she's played is Professor Layton.
Dad just makes no sense. He has no obvious problem with video games, and apparently wants a console now, but his actual thoughts on them seem to be scattered. For instance, he has watched me play Gears of War with absolutely no problems, but when I was jumping on a Hammer Bros.' head in Super Paper Mario, as Princess Peach no less, he got upset 'cause I was "hurting that guy." But then, my father is a sociopath and manipulative master of douchebaggery, so I've given up on trying to understand him. For that matter, the desire for a game console really may just be a "you should like me better than your mother" ploy. Who freaking knows.
Dad just makes no sense. He has no obvious problem with video games, and apparently wants a console now, but his actual thoughts on them seem to be scattered. For instance, he has watched me play Gears of War with absolutely no problems, but when I was jumping on a Hammer Bros.' head in Super Paper Mario, as Princess Peach no less, he got upset 'cause I was "hurting that guy." But then, my father is a sociopath and manipulative master of douchebaggery, so I've given up on trying to understand him. For that matter, the desire for a game console really may just be a "you should like me better than your mother" ploy. Who freaking knows.
