“I have given up on hav­ing shame. To have shame is to let them win.”

Mir­ror is a sex game that I should not have told my fam­ily about


I’ve had a weird cou­ple of weeks. I live in Canada, but my fam­ily lives in Eng­land; when my grand­fa­ther was taken ill, I flew across the At­lantic to be there with him and my fam­ily. The tone was solemn. That is, un­til my un­cle—whose pur­pose in life is to make fun of me—asked what I’d been work­ing on re­cently. I mean, what am I sup­posed to say? Games jour­nal­ism is so ridicu­lous a ca­reer to most peo­ple over the age of 30 that it’s hard to de­scribe your lat­est work with­out it sound­ing like your of­fice is a crèche. My ap­proach is to tell them ex­actly what I’ve been work­ing on, be­cause even if I say some­thing like “the un­der­whelm­ing po­lit­i­cal mes­sage of Far Cry 5”, I’m fairly sure all they hear is “the bang bangs in the shooty game”.

“I’ve been writ­ing about sex games.” It was al­most too easy a tar­get. “Sex games?” he re­peated, the glee in his voice hard to dis­guise. Thank good­ness we were sit­ting on my grand­fa­ther’s deaf side.

And so, I re­galed my end of the long din­ing ta­ble, filled with cousins and aunts and un­cles. I have given up on hav­ing shame. To have shame is to let them win.

Mir­ror is the game I told them about: a game that has over 6,000 pos­i­tive re­views on Steam de­spite only be­ing of­fi­cially re­leased in Novem­ber, 2017. If Mir­ror were a res­tau­rant, it would be sag­ging un­der an em­bar­rass­ment of Miche­lin Stars, but it is a sex game, and thus no one will ever talk about it, lest other peo­ple think they’re some kind of… sex-lik­ing per­vert.

It is a match-three game. A sexy match-three game. A sexy matchthree game in which you have to fight cursed women in or­der to make them have sex with you, even though the sex-hav­ing is mostly some­thing you end up coax­ing them into any­way.

Crotch bunny

But the best part of Mir­ror is not its sex scenes, nor its lack­lus­tre match-three games, de­spite those be­ing per­haps the in­tended rea­son to buy it. No, the best part is the rosy-butt-cheeked rab­bit that lives in the crotches of ev­ery woman in the land. Cen­sor­ship rules on Steam and in Ja­pan (where Mir­ror was made) dic­tate that the gen­i­talia in a sex game must be masked in some way, but at no point do they specif­i­cally re­quest said cen­sor­ship to be in the form of a creepy, goofy-faced rab­bit. What’s wrong with chunky, blurry pix­els? Or even just a black censor bar? Is there not any­thing they could have come up with that is less likely to drain the phal­lic blood than a car­toon bunny?

My ex­tended fam­ily, af­ter hear­ing a sim­i­lar tirade to the one in this piece, have com­bined hy­per­bolic imag­i­na­tion with more than a touch of mid­dle-aged mis­un­der­stand­ing, and come to the con­clu­sion that I am a porn di­rec­tor. Some­how.

“Sex games?” he re­peated, the glee in his voice hard to dis­guise

This’ll end with death: The great­est of post-coital treats.

Noth­ing makes you re­gret an or­gasm like chil­dren.

Newspapers in English

Newspapers from USA

© PressReader. All rights reserved.