Playing the greatest adventure of all.

It’s late Sunday morning. The better half is at work on a training day, the dog has been fed and is now lazily mooching round the garden looking for sticks and bugs to eat. I’ve successfully handled the kids breakfast without incident and the youngest (Lily, who’s just over a year old) has been changed and dressed.

The eldest of the two children who are here today (there can be up to 4 some weekends!) is unbelievably sitting quietly and playing with her sibling. The madness that is the morning is over and the television is unusually free.

As I sit down in the armchair I quickly do a final scan of the room; it’s still calm, the jobs really are done and the TV really is available. Opportunities like this don’t come along often so I pick up the SIXAXIS pad and turn on our Playstation 3.


Half an hour later and I’m standing up, SIXAXIS in hand and Super Stardust HD on pause. I ‘save’ Lily from the precipice that is the edge of the sofa from which she is about to dive off head first. Had Epyx still been around, she’d be in their next game! The lights of her all singing all flashing walker catch her attention and off she toddles.

I un-pause the game and narrowly avoid the incoming enemy I had forgotten about in the meantime. Games like Stardust don’t allow you much time to readjust but somehow I’m still alive; and after a frantic few seconds re-acquainting myself with my environment I’m in my rhythm again.

Hundreds of rocks are exploding from my barrage of fire and the enemies, although increasing in number are not faring any better.

Somehow I manage to keep it going, half of my brain managing to direct my fire with delicate accuracy whilst all the time the other half uses part of my vision and aural capabilities to monitor Lily’s playtime.

Having failed to base jump from the sofa and then destroy the walker, Lily converts to Solid Snake mode and makes here way over to the chest of drawers. She thinks I don’t notice; failing to realise she lacks a cardboard box and that I have deliberately positioned myself where I can see both the television and the entirety of the room.

As she approaches the drawers I hit boost in an effort to find some clear space among the ever increasing field of debris and get ready to hit pause for the 6th time.

But she gets there quicker than I anticipated. Perhaps realising a guard lay in wait, her speed increases and before I know it she’s there and the drawer begins to open. There’s nothing dangerous in there of course but like most parents I worry about the possibility of trapped fingers and the household documents that are about to be shredded or hidden by this master infiltrator.

I leap to my right and my rescue attempt is successful but unfortunately my reactions are not so quick this time with the pause button. A split second is all some enemies need; and this one has used the split second respite from my onslaught to smash my ship into a million virtual particles of light whilst I save the Princess in my other ‘game’.

One spare ship remains. But as my third sight pauses to evaluate what turns out to be another non-danger event, that comfort zone erodes and The Last Starfighter enters battle.

The unexpected timing of his predecessors fates combined with my own style of play means that this last warrior has a rather ample stock of smart bombs. I’ve racked up a fair score by my own standards and whilst I’ll never challenge for the top spot on the global leaderboards; the top spot from my friends list is within reach.

The last fighter is good,very good. With the kind of determination and luck only a last fighter seems to possess, he’s laying waste to all in his path with a devastating efficiency. The bombs are not only still intact, they’ve been added to whilst the score is rapidly rising.

A swarm of homing type enemies surrounds the ship, confident in the number of their ranks. The circle they have formed quickly tightens; slowly strangling the limited space my fighter has to manoeuvre. But I’m ready for this, in fact I’d been waiting for it, and my finger hovers over the right trigger ready to unleash the most devastating item in my arsenal – the smart bomb.

I’m calm and in sync with the game despite my permanent observations elsewhere. I don’t panic, but instead let the enemy draw closer so I can ensure the imminent detonation takes down as many of the enemy as possible. Just a little closer and…

” Are you one, are you two, are you three, are you four?”

“Are you five, six, seven, or maybe more?”

“CBeebies wishes you a happy birthday with lots of birthday cards through your door.”

“Happy Birthday!”

It takes a moment for the reality to sink in and when it does I laugh out loud as I see Lily sitting next to me with the remote, a big grin etched on her face! I give her a kiss and laugh even more when I realise she’s switched the TV’s source input with the cable remote, something no one in the household even knows how to do (we all use the actual TV remote).

I flick the source back over but of course I know the outcome already; the Princess has destroyed him, his fearsome arsenal no match for the power of Cbeebies.

Ands that’s what it’s like when you get older. Some say your hand eye co-ordination goes but I retaliate with the fruit that is experience, experience born in real arcades and eventually nurtured at home. Ultimately it’s really all about time.

When you’re older you have less time to play, less time to practice and too many games to fill into too few slots. You ultimately become a digital whore; pimping yourself out to many whilst committing to none.

But I don’t envy those who look down on me from the height of the global scoreboards. My points may be less but in many ways they were harder to achieve and required a skill they have yet to need or learn.

Everyday I play and I fight and I strive to be the best Dad I can be. I’ve rescued the Princess more than them and I’ve unlocked far better achievements. Because every time my kids smile or laugh and every time I pick them back up I know I’m in the best adventure of them all.