Alex Navarro Assistant Editor

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Deported From the Rhythm Nation

I've noticed a thematic trend developing in my recent GameSpotting articles. Specifically, it seems like recently, GameSpotting has become my platform for sad, pseudoself confessions about various problems related to my gaming or game-related activities. While this might not seem like a good thing, I've never been one to put a halt to developing habits, and in fact, I prefer to simply run these types of things into the ground. With that out of the way, I'm on to my latest round of complaining.

You, Parappa. You're the one who started all of this nonsense to begin with.

If you've paid any attention to any previous episodes of GameSpotting Live, you might have discovered that, as a hobby, I play the drums. I've been doing so for almost 12 years now, and though I'm not exactly the next Neal Peart or anything (yes, I'm dating myself, so let's just move on), I consider myself pretty decent. Concordantly, being a gamer, it would seem only logical that I might translate this rather rhythmic hobby into an affinity for rhythm games. In a sense, this is half right. I love rhythm games and try to play as many of them as I can on as regular a basis as possible. However, I also hate them because I am completely and utterly terrible at them in every way.

"But how?" you ask. Shouldn't someone who proclaims to have at least a marginal sense of rhythm naturally be able to master any rhythm game that comes his way? Yeah, right. That's what I thought the first time I caught on to Parappa the Rapper, too. A few days after picking it up for the first time, it wasn't hard for me to admit that I was flat-out wrong. Sure, I mastered the game eventually, but since Parappa's release, the rhythm genre has stepped things up pretty heavily with games like DDR, Gitaroo Man, and Amplitude. I'm terrible at all of them and have continued to be terrible at all of them long after their releases. It's downright embarrassing, considering that a lot of my friends enjoy rhythm games; and due to my status among them as "the drummer," I'm somehow expected to master these games instantly when playing in front of them.

Part of me would like to take responsibility for my own complete lack of ability in playing rhythm games, but another far more petty part of me would rather blame the entire rhythm game genre, as a whole, for my misadventures at trying to play them. You see, when I play a rhythm game, much of the action comes from hand-eye reflexes. I see what's on the screen, and I hit the corresponding button/arrow/dance-mat pad. While patterns do emerge out of the game, more often than not you're running on pure reflexes when playing these games, as the patterns that do emerge aren't actually part of the rhythm base of the music. Usually, they're just overlapping patterns that semifit into the scheme of the music but aren't actually a part of the underlying rhythm. Basically, it's one big drum fill that you have to match up to. You see? Not my fault. It's all these damn games' fault. I can't help it if I have weak reflexes...you don't need reflexes to...drum...and...

I'm pretty sure that watching me play this game is equivalent in hilarity to some of those horrible American Idol blooper reels.

OK, you know what? To hell with it. Fine. I suck. I am terrible at rhythm games, and it's not anyone's fault but my own. To hell with all of it. There. Are you happy? Does it please you to see me upset? I have no sense of rhythm. I have no business even having a regular heartbeat, let alone playing anything with any manner of rhythm to it, so I should just go lie down and die somewhere. At least that way I won't have to worry about people mocking me every time I try to get my DDR on. Sheesh.

Look, the moral of this whole story is that we rhythmically challenged folk have feelings too. Many of us, despite our condition, still enjoy rhythm games, and that enjoyment is precluded entirely by your mockery and laughter. So kids, the next time you see some guy (or girl) down at the local mall stumbling all over the place--like he has one left foot where his right foot should be and he's got a bowling ball where the left foot should normally be--don't point and laugh like you normally would. And don't pretend to cheer him on either (he can see right through that). Just walk away, and pretend you never saw anything. It's a lot easier for everyone involved.