Last night the guys over at Play or Die, a fun-lovin’, Chicago-based gaming radio show/podcast, were kind enough to have me on air with them for some thoughtful banter about women gamers and even a few hearty laughs. I admit I’m not 100% positive how the downloading process works, but if you’re cleverer than me with such things (which, really, isn’t hard) do check it out.

Yet again though, I leave you with this disclaimer: I am a fool when I’m not writing things down. Beware. Sentences come out of my mouth; who knows how they got there. One second I’m talking about the games industry as a boys club and the next thing I know I’ve said that my fiance is less dorky then me (He’s totally offended.), that the GameCube looks like a FisherPrice item (I fucking love Nintendo.), and that I would like to be plugged. It’s better if I stick to typing. Also, there’s something of a delay because we were speaking transatlantic. Yes, that’s it, blame the delay…

Thanks again to Vince and the Viceroy for being so darn friendly, and for covering my awkwardness with the trappings of good old-fashioned fun!

On an unrelated note, some of you have been sweet enough to enquire how I’m settling in here in the land of all things green. Long story short, yes, I’ve recently been poisoned by some bad potato products, but the city is great, the travel is amazing, and the Bulmer’s is endlessly tasty. What more could a girl need?

Why is it, when we get the chance to take care of something, all we want to do is destroy it?

A few months back, when I first bought Nintendogs, I spent some time skipping around like a giddy school girl, showing it off to my (male, semi-gamer) friends. They were all impressed; they even made cuteness noises (Aww!) — that is, for the first thirty seconds. Then they were stabbing my puppy with the stylus, demanding that he die. Die, puppy, they were saying. Die.

Okay, first of all, my puppy’s name is Pupcake, not puppy. Let’s not be rude. Second of all, why does everything turn into killing? Is there something about cuteness that makes us feel rage? Can we not stand the irresistable appeal of those adorable puppy eyes?

Even when we take cuteness out of the picture though, the tendency toward carnage still sticks around. The Sims is a perfect example. What’s more fun: constructing a happy, well-balanced, successful life for you simulated friends, or building a house with no windows or doors and lighting a fire? We all know where that one’s going…

Video games are defined by interactivity, and interactivity is defined by control. Control, in turn, can be used either — if you like — for good or for evil. So why does evil keep winning out?

It’s not like we always break the rules in hopes of causing destruction. For the most part, we do what we should: we want to do well, to win. But for some reason sims inspire the opposite reaction. Here, we have the highest level of interactivity, the highest level of control. And what do we do with it? Inflict VG pain. Because we are VG sadists.

Maybe it’s because, in simulators, we identify less with the avatars on screen. Or maybe these games just reveal the innate sadism in interactivity — the ability to dominate a situation of thing - itself. Playfully petting a puppy: that might involve interactivity in a sense, but it’s not until you break the rules and try and hit it in the head with a frisbee (Sorry, Pupcake!) that you’ve really asserted your independent will as both gamer and master.