Being an adult is 90% awful. Statistically. What you’re never told about being an adult when you’re younger is taxes and work and commuting and bills and Holiday Parties and obligations you didn’t sign up for (like Holiday Parties) and being excited by a new vacuum cleaner. The other 10% of adulthood is great. A week ago, I had a sudden urge for ice cream, so I got in my car, drove to the store, and bought ice cream. Then, I had ice cream for dinner, like an adult, and I put chocolate syrup on it. And it was fantastic. That sliver of great is small – wafer thin – but when it’s on it is on.
Closing in on my mid-30s and owning a 3DS hovers somewhere in the middle. It’s a phantom percentage. A Venn Diagram of degrees, overlapping ever so faintly between awful and great, wherein I own and love my 3DS, but I don’t whip my 3DS out in public (amongst other things), given a strange social stigma hovering around the machine and the maturity of the individual holding said machine. Now I’m not really one for maturity as a barometer for a person’s accessibility or overall judging worth, but the argument can be made you shouldn’t be forty and wearing a DEEZ NUTS t-shirt with a squirrel on it. Hypothetically. When my wife and I were in NYC this past August, you can be certain I made a trek to Nintendo World – my first – and it was a lot like what I assume making the Hajj to Mecca is like. And in there I was among my people, even if I wanted to keep those people at arm’s length. While there, though, the overlap hit, and I found myself lusting over plush Links and Donkey Kong wallets, sock-caps made from the hollowed-out skulls of countless Squirtles, and I knew, knew, I had a card with my name on it tied to a bank account with my name on it in order to buy all the Links and Kongs and Squirtles I could handle, and with that same understanding I knew, knew, there was no self-respecting way I could, closing in on my mid-30s, be seen in public with any of them, and not feel my butthole pucker every time I left the house. Some of that’s on me. Absolutely. Some of that is fully self-induced and a product of me maybe not being comfortable enough in my own skin. I get that. But too, I believe in the way a sense of right and wrong is woven deep down into our DNA, there is a little bit of truth to my puckering too. An overlap, if you will, of right and wrong, adult awful and adult great.
Here’s the thing though. I love my 3DS. It’s the only “console” I own for gaming. I’ve owned all of them from the last generation back and done so happily, but I decided, finally, to get a PC, to use it, and to forgo the cycle of hoops and everything else gaming on a console seems to have become over the years. And the 3DS is just fun. It’s great. I have my RPGs, my side-scrollers, my odd nitch-titles, and of course I know consoles have them too, but this just seems… happy? I don’t know. I’ve been playing a lot of Fantasy Life lately – of which I plan on reviewing soon – and it’s wonderful. I spend evenings after work creating furniture and picking Healweed. Seriously, how great is that? That’s where the 10% comes back.
I don’t know how to close this out. Just something I’ve been thinking about, and though it’s not strictly a review of the 3DS, it counts enough. It’s also a review on the perils of aging. But some of the good stuff too.