My 10-year old stepdaughter is a goddess.
She recently got all straight As (second time running) and an appropriate celebration manifested in the form of a new Pokemon game for the DS. She’s been hankering after a new game for ages, and I jumped at the chance to associate reward with a job well done.
Yeah, yeah, the good grades are reward enough blah blah POOP.
I got good grades my whole life, and if my parents decided to take me out for pizza because of it, I didn’t suddenly let the whole concept slide down the drain. Lighten up. Who am I talking to.
Anyhoo, so I got C jr a Gently-Pre-Owned game that cost $40 (!) and she very patiently waited until we’d gone to the mall, then a friend’s house, then the grocery store before getting home where she could run and try it out. She never once asked when we would FINALLY be home.
Like I said – goddess.
But the fly likes the ointment, and only after getting to level eight did she realize that she couldn’t save her game, due to a previously saved game. A previously saved game which had apparently been saved in GRANITE.
We read the manual, pushed the recommended buttons, did extensive online searches, pushed ALL the buttons, got frustrated, ate some Honey Nut Cheerios, and read the manual again.
Directions are a funny thing. They only work if you follow them.
My eyes unfocused on the words long enough to refocus on a small image with the words “Title Screen” underneath. Apparently, this was the screen you needed to be on to effectively delete a previous game.
Technology can be amazingly picky.
There’s no moral. I didn’t learn anything I haven’t already learned, and re-learned, ad nauseam.
The new piece of information came in the form of my lovely girl who said calmly, in the thick of our videogame helplessness, “I’m quite upset.”
I was rending my clothing and clawing at my eyes. On the inside. Her calm was the only thing that kept me from howling. I had already composed six versions of the scathing, righteous diatribe I planned on hurling at the sad sacks at the Game Stop.
Those poor bastards have no idea they were saved by a tall, spectacled kid with more patience than me.