Dance puppets

By Chris Tait

rom the same people who brought us Sony and animated porn, a new abomination has arisen, a daemon so foul its name alone brings shudders to many.


Dance Dance Revolution proves once and for all that there really is an East-West cultural front.


For the fortunate uninitiated few, DDR is one of those Japanese “life fantasies” (games for people lacking lives). It’s as though some ingenious bastard woke up one morning and said, “I’m going to make it so I can really live through my computer games.”


Imagine what would happen if you brought a clubbing crowd into an arcade–this is the bastard product of that fateful union.


The Japanese seem to have a knack for making games for people who have to have a screen between them and the practices of the outside world. Virtual dating, train conducting, even being on a diet are just some of the twisted, ungodly video games to come from this disturbed culture.


Whoever thought jumping around on a coloured pad could be fun? Come on, the good old US of A did it right by making the pad game involving body-contact and horizontal game-play, contributing to all sorts of hopeless guys getting laid since 1969.


And to think North American arcade-goers have adopted this abnormal practice into our culture. I feel like Charlton Heston at the head of the Stature of Liberty. I feel betrayed.


We have spent decades building up wholesome, gaming fun, blowing shit up with big nasty guns, only to have it all crash down at the appearance of flashy, rainbow lights and the constant beat of techno pounding against the heads of bewildered quarter-pumpers. This intrusion is about as welcome as a three-foot-high light switch mini-rave in my basement with kids so fried you could cook off of their skulls. Oh boy.


However, for the few to whom this humiliation sounds good (pity on your souls), go get your heads examined. If the doc claims you’re sane, then be my guest, fuel the insanity.


The question then begs to be asked: what will they come up with next? Virtual showering? Sorry kids, I’d rather play naked twister with your momma.

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