Xbox Diaries: Back in Highschool.

“Who is that that just joined” asked Headbanger 4121.

“Namssoh” replied shortcircuit

“Aw man!”

“He’s that old guy”

“He sucks!”

“Kick that dude out.”

“Who’s the host? Kick him out” the chant began to swell.

I am Namssoh. That is my online identity. It’s Hossman spelled backwards.

A dialog box comes up on my screen: “The host has disconnected you from the session.”

My screen goes black and I am sent back through the portal. Oblivion, silence, complete disconnect.

What. The. Hell?

And this, my readers, is why I hate youth.

I get kicked out of a game at least 3 times a week. Seriously. Some people would rather play with teams that are uneven and unfair than have me play with them. They do not care if my ego is crushed or if my feelings are hurt. They do not care that because of them I have started drinking and a massive heroin habit. Well, I haven’t but I’m sure my online self is currently holed up in some crack shack doing an 8 ball while silently crying to himself.

He is also probably a cutter and has scars on his arms from his chainsaw of justice that won’t be used on the alien horde, only on his depression and self confidence. Usually, there is a light bulb above his head that keeps flickering on and off. Maybe a roach crawls around him as he is so pathetic that even natures most disgusting creature thinks that he is to sad a sack to play with.

That is my online life, constantly striving for acceptance and inclusion in a world built for the young. I say “But I’m young at heart!” Only old people say that.

Is this some click that I am not a part of? Is this some sort of secret society that because I am above the age of 30 I am not allowed to know the secret handshake? Is this middle school all over again?

Well, yes, it is.

As you can probably imagine, there are a lot of players in their teens in these games. And when they are given the ultimate power of deciding who gets to join a game and who doesn’t, well, the power goes to their heads. They are youth, they do not understand the true control that they hold in their hands. They abuse this power, they take it for granted, they assume that their decisions are always wise and well thought out.

They are nothing but tyrants, sick twisted individuals that can’t get a date on the outside world and so venture into online reality to control the things that they can’t control on the outside. They have learned nothing but fear and pain on the outside, so once on the inside, they distribute the wealth. And thus, an old guy is kicked out of their game.

It’s like the playground all over again. Not only am I the last guy picked in a game but sometimes I’m not picked at all. They take their ball and go to another court, I’m not invited. They don’t even lie to me and say that my invitation got “lost”. They just say leave.

And because of this, in the online world, I have become their enemy. I am the outcast. I am the soiled one. I am the Phantom of the Opera in the digital underground. But instead of playing an organ, I play Journey.

It’s my age that separates me from these players. But there are a lot of people like me out there. We are the silent ones. We are the ones that usually don’t talk a lot when the youth is around. We are not the ones talking about band practice. We are not the ones that are talking about that tough test next week.

We are not the ones that are wondering if we will get to finger bang Mary Jane rotten crotch through her pretty pink panties. Because we already have, shitsticks.

We are silently building our alliances. We are slowly practicing our skills. We are quietly paying our mortgages and our taxes so that we will have more time to practice. And we are there, just under the radar, waiting. Waiting for the day that we can rise up and distribute justice to youth.

There will come a day when you will want our advice online about how the world works. You will ask us, Hey old guy, how do I get into my favorite college. I will advise you to send in a collage of your favorite teletubie. You will ask us, hey Namssoh, how should I make the move on my girlfriend so I can finally get laid. I will advise you to go straight to her father and tell him your intentions, he’ll help you out. You will ask, Hey Baldy, I’m going on my first job interview tomorrow, what should I do. I will advise you to slap the interviewer on the ass and say “YE HAW!”.

You’ll say thanks and then head off to your disappointment. Because I am a jaded bastard.

We’ll be patient, us older online players. We’ll be patient until one day you look into the mirror and say, man, am I losing my hair? Maybe you’ll notice that you are gaining that freshman 15? Perhaps even one day you’ll get online and realize that you are the old guy now, and only at 32, how sad.

My digital player, Namssoh, I will not send him to rehab for his heroin habit or self mutilation. I want him edgy. I want him to remember the shame and humiliation. I want him to have the shakes. I want him to jones for it, jones for your annilation.

And out of nowhere, you will feel our wrath. You will be looking out at the digital battlefield, wondering where all the time went.

And that twinge in your back, don’t worry about that, it’s just my chainsaw of vengeance.

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