Too many noob cannons - By N.L. Belardes

Too many noob cannons. What does this phrase mean? I know what it means. Do you know what it means?

Too many noob cannons.

I kept saying this phrase over and over in my head as I took a shower this morning.

Too many noob cannons.

Don't drop the soap. Why can’t I just let it go, ignore the words? They’re meaningless anyway? Right?

Too many noob cannons.

It’s a stupid phrase. It’s dumb. The soap is too small. I'm too lazy to open a new package. It squirts out of my hands.

Too many noob cannons.

I don’t like it.

Too many noob cannons.

I hate it.

I’m going to go to the fair and eat and get fatter than I already am. I’m going to go see pigs, cows, gangbangers with Raiders jerseys, and big-headed kids eating cotton candy. And all I’m going to think is too many noob cannons.

Kenny Mount came over a few weeks ago. He was kind enough to not make fun of the giant stacks of laundry everywhere, the eclectic collection of used furniture, and stacks of books and papers that surround my desk. He walked in while I blasted virtual heads like a child does ants with a magnifying glass… back in the 1970s. So I have practice. Sue me. Now I play World War Two shooter games like Call of Duty on my PC. I try to escape the real world and forget for a moment that I’m one of three boys vying for position in a messy house where writing blogs and playing video games takes precedence over doing the dishes and cleaning windowsills.

Sure, I hate the mess. I hate my used furniture too. I hate my hurricane desk, my hurricane bedroom, and sometimes even my hurricane life.

A few days later Kenny calls me. “You know, I was thinking. I walk in your house and there you are playing video games. Your kids are playing punk rock… All I could think was… I wish my dad was like you!”

Great.

What he’s actually saying is: there are giant stacks of laundry everywhere, an eclectic collection of used furniture, and stacks of books and papers that surround my desk.

And today, just as usual. I don’t care about all of that. I mean, I’m writing this aren’t I?

Earlier, right hand on my computer mouse, I clicked while my left hand worked the keyboard. I stared at the computer screen as virtual war erupted and sounds of battle thundered from my $150.00 computer speakers. I typically play the German side. I use a machine gun that I don’t know the name of, and the Happy-Penguin server always rotates the same African map of a adobe city with three machine guns placed at locations throughout. I'm addicted... in a way.

I run through the map happily capping virtual heads like gory fireworks, while I try to keep my kill batting average above .500. I die often. Or do I? Such a confusing phrase. OK, I'm a big kid. I die often. So sue me again.

Sometimes I get on the big machine guns and plaster my opponents. Today I did the same when I suddenly read, "Too many noob cannons".

What the hell?

I’m no noob. I used to play pong. I played the real Space Invaders. I spent my lunch money on Defender and Asteroids down at the Sno White burger joint.

Yet my kid looks at me weird sometimes too. He has that "you're a noob" look in his eyes. I hate that. If we had two computers capable of running Call of Duty I would splatter his virtual brains without blinking. He thinks the same of me, only with more confidence.

Damn him.

And cannons? These are machine guns. Yet even though there were 30 people in the game I knew these unseen 15-year-old gamers were talking to me. And they understood each other! The gamer didn’t make any sense. Yet someone knew exactly what he was talking about. More words flashed across the screen: “Some people don’t realize that it takes skill to use a shotgun.”

What? These punks don’t like people sitting on the machine guns? There’s suddenly rules to this virtual war! Sure, I carry a machine gun... er my virtual character manifestation of me... um... does.

Maybe it didn’t occur to these snotheads that it doesn’t take much skill to avoid the NOOB CANNONS! Get out of the line of fire!

Yet still…

Too many noob cannons.

Give me a break.

I’m not new at the game. How dare they consider me a noob.

Too many noob cannons.

I turned the game off.

But wait it gets better (To use a Blackdog Tower of Terror phrase). Earlier I was playing in a different server. Same thing. I was politely exploding opponent skulls with my popcorn killa big mounted machine gun when some spectator started making comments (A spectator is someone who can watch the game, literally fly through it and peer wherever they want as if their screen is a camera).

Suddenly the voice of Big Brother: “Son, you’re never going to get better at this game squatting on a machine gun like that.”

What? Rules? Self worth? Acceptance? I know this happens in England. But not to me!

Where’s my relaxation?

Why are there rules to virtual war? Did the Call of Duty gamemakers screw up by building maps with mounted machine guns?

Do soldiers in real war scenarios give up defensive positions on mounted machine guns because they’re accused of too many noob cannons?

That’s twice in one day.

Too many noob cannons.

Screw it. I’m going to the fair. And I’m going to get fat.

For real.

This entry was posted by N.L. Belardes, on Sunday, September 24, 2006. You can leave your response.