It happens to most of us sooner or later. Could be a night of 'boiler maintenance' or a full-on summer o' love. Some of us pasty bastards are going to get lucky - the sort of spawny sperm-squirtation that puts a bun in the oven at Gas Mark Eleven. Cue years of night-feeds, weird smells, post-foetal faeces and watching your missus's arse expand.

Here Lies Gamer - R.I.P.

Or so it seems…

Thing is, those self-same combo-compromising shit-machines eventually do something wonderful. They grow up. They can be trained.

They can be gamers.

Why?
Gamer kids are wonderful. They're captive competition - you know they'll turn up at some point 'cos you, well... know their bedtimes. Some people invite mates over for a bit of competition. Me, I just ground my daughters.

How?
Geneticists have failed to isolate an XBox gene, so you'll just have to train the bastards yourself. Some try to cut corners by slipping a Playstation pad into a bottle or decorating the nursery in ‘Essence Of Resident Evil'. It never works.


Changing Rooms gets it wrong, again.

I’ve made my mistakes so you don't have to. The five-step Junior Gamer Growing Kit is not only fun, it's easy to use and was produced in a nut-free environment.

Rule 1: Start Simple.
Pac Man is perfect - one joystick, no fire button and piss easy to understand. Broaden their horizons slowly with Mario Party - tons of simple and easy concepts in one tidy package.

Rule 2: Non-Aggression Pact.
Kids are dangerous enough by default and kitchens have knives. Don't let them make the connection.

They just don't know
what's good for them .

Rule 3: Let Them Win.
You can't spank your sprogs too successfully - otherwise they'll piss tears and never play with you again. That, or they'll practice and hand your arse to you. Little victories keep them happy, mask your skill level and give you a glowy parent feeling. Just make sure you win overall.

NB. Parents with very hairy children are advised to ‘let the Wookee win'.

Rule 4: Big It Up.
Action Men. Barbie dolls. A true gamer craves not these things.

Teach your kids about the true coinage of life - breaking Princess Peach out of Bowser's brothels, chaining in Puyo Puyo, hot-swapping SCART leads.

Don't try and meet them halfway with licensed kiddy games. Even if they do like Rugrats In Nonce-Wing, you'll still lose your tech and telly for weeks. They play what you play.

”Dora The Explorer, my arse. This is Survival-Horror, baby”.

Rule 5: Be Patient.
Growing gamers are frustrating as hell. I’ve witnessed my kids playing Super Mario Sunshine and I've imagined Anne Widdecombe covered in Vaseline. I can't tell you which image is more painful.

Encouragement and the ability to say the same thing over and overagain are your friends, here.

Oh, and invest in extra memory cards if they play unattended. They will wipe your Zelda games and you will have to start again. Fuckers!

Breathtaking! I shall call him... Mini-Me!
It's all worth it. Gaming was part of my childhood - now it's part of theirs. But it goes a little deeper than that. I'm not into Barbie and my kids aren't into comics. We all love Mario Party. Videogaming is a generation-spanner with 'quality time' hardwired in. Just keep your nerve, train 'em up and you'll have a ball.

Ten years on, I expect to see articles like ‘Why My Rodent Dad Can't Skate For Shit’ or ‘Stop Tilting The Fucking Pad, Mum!’ all over the web.

Now that's a worthy aim. The children are our future, after all.

PAP, May 2004.

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