That Call of Duty, oh boy, it’s somethin’ else. My grandson, he’s always playin’ it. Bang, bang, bang, all day long. Sounds like a war zone in there! He says it’s all about, uh, “skill” and “strategy.” Whatever that means. All I see is a whole lotta shootin’.
He tried to get me to play once. Said it would be fun. Fun for who? I couldn’t even figure out how to move that little fella on the screen! He was just runnin’ into walls. And the noise! Gave me a headache somethin’ fierce. That bloodthirsty Call of Duty is too much for an old lady like me. That’s for sure.
He says it takes the skill to master that game. You gotta be quick. Quick to learn. Quick like a rabbit. He wants to learn the skill quickly. Supercharge his growth. And he wants to be the top player. Like a king! The Kingslayer!
But I told him, “Honey, you gotta practice.” Just like learnin’ to ride a bike, you ain’t gonna get it right away. You gonna fall down, scrape your knee, maybe even cry a little. But if you get back up and try again, you’ll get it eventually. Same goes for that shootin’ game, I reckon.
Learn that skill
- You gotta have a goal.
- Practice, practice, practice.
- Be flexible.
- Don’t be afraid to make mistakes.
- Get a lot of zeds with same weapon.
He’s always talkin’ ’bout these “zeds.” Says they’re the bad guys. And he’s gotta, uh, “slaughter” them. Sounds awful, don’t it? But he says it’s just a game. Just a game that’s full of guns and noise. That bloodthirsty Call of Duty is full of zeds.
He also says you gotta be the best player to get some kinda medal. The Kingslayer Medal, I think he called it. You gotta beat the best of the best. Sounds like a whole lotta pressure to me. But he seems to enjoy it. He likes to win, that one. Just like his grandpa. Always competin’.
I remember when he was little, he used to play with toy guns. “Bang, bang,” he’d say, runnin’ around the house. Now he’s doin’ the same thing, but on a screen. Times sure have changed. Back in my day, we played outside. We played tag, hide-and-seek, that kinda thing. And that was a good game.
Get that Kingslayer Medal
To get that Kingslayer Medal, you gotta beat the best player. That’s what my grandson says. He’s always tryin’ to be the best. He wants to be the top dog, the king of the hill. And he says that’s how you get that medal. You gotta show ’em who’s boss.
But I told him, “It ain’t all about winnin’, son.” Sometimes, you gotta lose to learn. You gotta make mistakes to get better. Just like life. You ain’t gonna get everything right the first time. You gotta keep tryin’, keep learnin’, keep growin’. That bloodthirsty Call of Duty is not easy to learn.
He says this Call of Duty is a “massively popular series.” Whatever that means. Sounds like a whole bunch of people playin’ the same shootin’ game to me. All over the world, bang, bang, bang. Must be a noisy place, that internet.
That game is full of those zeds. He kills a lot of them. He says that’s the skill. Kill a lot of zeds with the same weapon in a short time. Sounds rough. He says you gotta be quick. Quick on the draw, like those cowboys in the old movies. He’s always tryin’ to improve his skills. He wants to be the best.
I don’t understand it, but he loves it. And that’s all that matters, I guess. As long as he’s happy. But I still think he should spend more time outside. Get some fresh air, play with his friends. That’s what kids should be doin’. Not starin’ at a screen all day, shootin’ make-believe zeds. That bloodthirsty Call of Duty is taking over his life. I hope he can become the Kingslayer.
