Hold me, for I’ve just played Spec Ops: The Line

The enemy is holed up in front of you. It’s a suicide mission if you try and pass. It’s just you and your two squad mates against countless troops. Your partner notices something off to the side somewhat fortuitously;  It’s white phosphorous. It’ll burn up everyone in its path. It’s an ugly solution but you’re in too deep now. You have to keep going.

You make the choice, or rather the game makes it for you. You have to press on. Turning off the game is always an option too, should you want to. You fire up the monitor and white dots on the screen represent your enemy. You point at them and fire. The white dots vanish in a monochromatic blaze. More dots. You point and fire. Point and fire. Point and fire.

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The day I knew I was part of the family.

It was on a night like any other. I was casually sitting back in my chair watching TV, perhaps it was Jersey Shore or it could’ve just been something a little more highbrow, like CSI (Vegas). I was engaged in conversation via text with a friend of mine. I don’t really recall what the conversation was about now, but I know that I managed to spell something incorrectly. The reply that came back was the same word, with a couple of question marks at the end. Clearly what I had said made no sense and in my effort to explain myself I dropped this line:

“Oh that’s my iPhone, damn autocorrect”

Little did I know what I had started.

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