by Ben Kowalski
Karen points from the couch. “Grenade Launcher!” I weave through bullets to grab the weapon. “Now plug him!” And plug him I do—a hellstorm of grenades that reduces the giant tank to scrap.
I polish off a glass of wine during the “Mission Complete” screen. Karen refills our glasses; I raise mine.
“To unemployment.”
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Playing Video Games Like It's Our Job
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