To Answer Your Question In Advance, Ladies: Yes, I Will Sleep With You
I've never been a sports guy. I don’t know what RBI stands for, and I've always assumed Fantasy Football was a cycle of Tolkein novels. Even so, I've done my best to avoid missing out on a very important aspect of male bonding: the statistic. My methods are simple. I just took something sweaty and unsavory—sports—and replaced it with something with which I’m far more comfortable—video games. So when I'm at a Sunday barbecue and people start arguing about A-Rod's error matrix or "Shoeless”" Joe Jackson’s free throw percentage, I just fire back with the latest Snood worldwide leaderboard scores and Mario Bros. 3 speed run times. This has the added bonus that I'm no longer invited to lame Sunday barbecues, and can devote most of my time to following the sales reports of all the next-gen systems. I was doing just that when I came across this shocking survey that has revealed a full forty percent of gamers to be women. Not just Wii gamers either; the manly systems too. Forty percent?! I don’t know about you, but frankly I would have been less surprised to hear that forty percent of gamers were currently on fire. It’s long been popular gaming dogma that the closest two X chromosomes ever got to a PS3 was when you and your buddy leaned in real close during the final lap of a heated
Mario Kart race.
But when you think about it, there were signs. Ecco the Dolphin for one. Then there’s E3, the world’s biggest gaming conference, which recently shut its doors to the public. In retrospect, we can only assume it was because the influx of female gamers caused so much flop sweat that their cleaning bills became untenable. That and the fact that they had to install a women’s restroom.
And of course there’s The Sims. Come on. A game where you raise a family, hold down a decent job, and sex only lasts fifteen seconds? A woman’s world if ever there was one. The only concession they made to the male perspective was the fact that your wife speaks in unintelligible gibberish.
But for better or worse, the times they are a-changing. The lady gamers of the world have kicked in the bedroom door and demand to be heard. No more Samus Aran masturbatory aides at the end of Metroid games unless there’s an equally arousing shot of Sonic at the ends of his games (which I’m sure Tails would be totally fine with).
And from now on, expect every booth babe you encounter to be accompanied by at least one oiled-up Chippendale’s dancer dressed as Wakka from FFX. I blame Barbie and the Magic Pegasus.
But, hey, more power to you, ladies. I don’t understand you or your mysterious nurturing instinct, but welcome aboard. Grab a Halo-branded can of Mountain Dew, a Yoshi Fruit Roll-Up, and a Dreamcast controller. It’s on.
And in the meantime, I’ve decided that it might be worthwhile for the Cracked Blog to stop neglecting the penis-disabled portion of its audience as well. After all, for all we know, forty percent of
When not masterfully analyzing the opposite sex, Michael is rocking out for girl power as head writer and co-founder for Those Aren't Muskets!