With the Wii being one of the most flexible character creating tools, second only to the MMOG Second Life and the WWE Smackdown franchise, players young and old have been able to create a virtual counterpart to nearly anyone or anything! From Darth Vader to Michael Jackson, to Stalin and a man with a penis for a face, children all over the world have been exposing themselves to the dark recesses of their own minds.

“Every step of the way we’ve make concessions on this game,” the game’s designer said. “I remember way back at the start, when we said we wanted to make something that addressed our concerns with modernity and the impact technology has on our lives. Now we don’t even have sound effects for the level four ninjas when they get shot.”

How many times did this conversation about the t-shirt take place over the course of the two and a half hour party in Sheila’s backyard? A dozen times, at least. Friends, family, the hired help – no one was spared the explanation. Those who made the mistake of lingering near the drink table rarely returned, and those who did did so hastily, as if a horde of wild animals was about to stampede through and there was only two minutes to pour a vodka cranberry.

You can hardly contain your excitement while collating copies and forwarding memos. What will it be like to join forces with Sazh? Great warmth fills your heart as you call your mother to cancel another dinner. Mom can wait; let’s spend some quality time with a baby chocobo that lives in an afro.

Only minutes after the concept art for the twenty-second Madden was revealed did relative unknown fourth-string guard Tim Duckworth begin complaining about an inner ear infection. Free Safety Darren Sharper injured his left knee accidentally kneeling down too quickly looking for the remote under his couch, and Outside Linebacker, Jo-Lonn Dunbar swatted a fly forcefully against his cheek dislocating his jaw. By the end of the weekend, twenty-three members of the Saints team had incurred minor fractures or dislocations.

After twenty minutes of this, Tim stands up and raises his right hand, his fingers pinching a pick — the sign that he wants it quiet because has something to say. “This is a five star riff. All we’ve gotta do is take this five star riff, add some five star vocals, five star drums, and we’ve got ourselves a Rock Band hit.”

For six minutes, one can practically see the blocks descending from behind the upper velvet curtain and settling atop the heads of the brass section. A box appears to the right of the stage, beyond the percussion on the raised platform, that visualizes the next shape in the series: a block, a zag, a zag, a line. A tally appears in the gilded ceiling of the concert hall, rocketing upward as a Tetris clears the horn section out of existence.

Grace thought about the long nights Ralph spent in that chair – nights she’d never witnessed, but had heard about firsthand from her daughter. She imagined him shirtless, maybe pantless, with beer cans and cigarette butts crushed around him, his mouth agape and smeared in fried chicken, the clanks and clacks of medieval warfare assaulting his ears, his back vibrating and his intestines releasing gas at random intervals, as he shouted racial epithets at a blinking television screen.