Guitar Zero

So, I feel like I am letting my generation down by not being able to play Guitar Hero. Whereas all of my friends – from actual musicians to those who wouldn’t know a beat if it bit them on the ass are able to pick up that Mattelish play axe and wail or fail, I just can’t even bring myself to participate.

When it first came out in 2005, I didn’t hold any contempt for it. In fact, I thought it was kind of an interesting idea. I mean, who doesn’t want to feel like a rock star? Besides, I was really feeling distanced from the video game genre of entertainment – I’m not a Lord of the Rings dork so I don’t like World of Warcraft and I am not suppressing a violent streak so I’m not into Call of Duty, either – so, the fact that anything from that direction interested me was kind of appealing in its own way.

I was at the mall and I saw it for sale in a shop window and decided to see what it was all about. So, I went to one of those game stores that, according to my sister, always have a particular aroma of teenage boy body odor to see what this thing was all about. I don’t know why, but previous to seeing it, I had thought it would be more like a self-corrective guitar-guitar. Like, you’d have a really crummy guitar that was hooked to the game some way, and you’d play with the song. If you’d mess up, it would tell you where and you’d fix it. Instead, this looked more like a musical version of those hand-held electronic memory games called Simon that were popular in the 1980s.

Essentially, that’s what it is. I decided then that it wasn’t for me. Not so much because I was terrible at Simon (which I really, really was – I get nervous!), but more so because I couldn’t see myself ever being happy holding that little plastic guitar. It seemed to cross the line from being a fake guitar player to just being a fake. To me, this sort of make-believe says something in my head said, “Oh, this is for little kids – not adult kids like me.” So, I went ahead and forgot about it for a little bit.

Fast-forward some years, and I can’t forget about it. It’s at every, single social function I go to – especially if there are men there. It was even at my conservative, older boss’ Christmas party last year. There’s no escaping it.

It never starts out that way. There’s always this period at the beginning of the social function where people are talking and eating and drinking and interacting with one and other. Then, by about beer number four one guy will say something like, “Yeah, man, you know what I am really addicted to? Guitar Hero! I know, weird right?”

It’s not weird. It’s common. I know this because then the other men in the group will all start talking about it, too. Then when they are buzzing about it, someone will mention that they have never played Guitar Hero, and it’s on. Party’s over; Guitar Hero’s on.

Eventually, everyone has to be huddled around the game, or you’re that one weirdo that’s hanging out in the living room while everyone else is crammed into the den. When this happens to me, I try and stay as spectator-like as possible. However, there’s something about the adrenaline rush that “playing” metal can give to guys in their late twenties and early thirties (I’m on the cusp myself), and they want everyone to try it. Maybe it’s because guys in this age group are old enough to remember when video games were really lame, so there’s still some fascination factor just with the technology. I’m not really sure.

It is annoying, though – - and a little hard to escape.

Guitar Hero Head: C’mon. It’s a lot of fun and it’s not hard.

Me: No, thanks.

GHH: No one will laugh at you if you are bad! We’ll set it on easy.

M: No, let someone else have a turn.

GHH: C’mon, you have got to play this game! Just try it!

You know, it reminds me of those after-school specials where the kid is walking home from school and her friend invites her over and everything’s copacetic at first but then – WHAM! Drugs show up and the kid has to use every excuse in the book not to participate because her friends lay the peer pressure on her like a ton of bricks. I’ve never felt that same pressure when people actually offered me drugs, but I definitely feel it every time that little plastic guitar comes out. However, I think in that after school special, the kid actually runs out of the house and all the way home eventually. She tells her mom and guidance counselor and the drug-pushing children end up going to a special school for troubled youth. That’s not really an option for me, so I just awkwardly refuse until the Guitar Hero pusher remembers how much he likes playing Guitar Hero and decides to take another turn instead of bothering me.

It leads to all sorts of misconceptions, too. Since I have refused to play, I’ve heard everything about myself from, “Oh, Kemp’s really shy,” to, “Oh, Kemp doesn’t really like music.” Whoa – what? Who are they talking about? It’s like my refusal to play Guitar Hero has put me and my peers on such a different footing that they can’t see any of the real things about me. It’s a little jarring and a lot lame, and it makes me feel like an outcast to some extent. Like, I am worse than a traitor because at least traitors tend to understand what they are railing against.

There are some people who will actively argue with me the positives of Guitar Hero. One argument that I hear – often – is that it helps kids to be exposed to some music that maybe otherwise they wouldn’t have heard. Well, I think that’s a little bit false. Kids today would have heard Van Halen . . . on the oldies station. This way, though, they are hearing it, and it seems new. So, people my age can feel like their music is still young person music. So, there’s an indoctrination of youth with hair bands. (Which, by the way, I like some hair bands – I’m not a total defector.) I used to hope this Guitar Hero phase would pass quickly, but because of this I’m not holding my breath. You don’t even want to get me started on Rock Band.

Test change.