Friday, January 7, 2005
Page 11
AT THE SIDEBAR (Column)
Are You ‘Toon’ Enough?
By J’AMY PACHECO
When it comes to video games, my household is still in the technological equivalent of the Dark Ages.
Don’t get me wrong — there is no shortage of electronic wizardry in my home. Each member of my little family has his or her own computer, and we’re all networked so I can send documents from my downstairs computer to my husband’s upstairs printer. Our little girl can operate her computer from the couch, using her wireless keyboard and mouse. My laptop is travel-sized, and can go almost anywhere.
At first glance, we appear to be pretty “with it.” But when it comes to video games, we’re way behind the times. From the latest-and-greatest to the tiniest Game Boy, you won’t find a video game unit in our house.
It wasn’t always like this. Before we had a child, my husband bought a Nintendo to take my mind off the unpleasant side effects of an illness. And boy, did we play it.
I became quite proficient at “Super Mario Brothers,” and twice managed to rack up more than half a million points. Eventually, it ended up in a donation box.
When we became parents, my husband issued an order that no video game would be welcome in our home. Video games, he decreed, contained no educational value of any kind and would rot our daughter’s brain.
So while her little friends have carried around pocket-sized games and parked themselves in front of television sets racing cars and entering fierce battles, our daughter has had to settle for playing games on her computer.
Her first game was “Jump Start Toddler,” and taught her – at the age of two — to wield a computer mouse with great proficiency. Eventually, she graduated to “Reader Rabbit,” and ultimately we added a variety of Barbie, Disney Princess and other games to her software library.
At some point, I managed to sneak in some games that contained, I admit, no educational value whatsoever. Games in which my little princess could decorate her electronic castle, adorn her prancing ponies with glittering jewels, or help the world’s most famous fashion doll rescue digital pets. So far, her brain appears to be quite un-rotted.
Then we discovered the world of online games. It was Disney that finally got us, sucking us into a game called “ToonTown.”
Last summer, our daughter begged to be allowed to subscribe to the online game, which is loosely based on the film, “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” as well as the ToonTown area of Disneyland. My husband agreed to the subscription on the condition that our daughter would sign a contract promising to keep her playroom clean and do her school work without complaining.
She signed with a flourish.
A funny thing happened after that. Our daughter has created several “toons,” each occupying a lovely home furnished with items purchased with hard-earned jellybeans. Each has a pet Doodle, and her toons have not only an impressive arsenal of gags to use in cog battles, but extensive, well-balanced wardrobes.
Her father also has a toon, a pudgy little guy called “Big Daddy.” While Big Daddy’s house remains sparsely furnished and his clothing remains the same from game to game, Big Daddy has become a fierce cog battler, and has raked up some amazing credits.
Even Mom got into the game. Although I’ve never really been attracted to computer games, I confess I’ve become somewhat addicted to ToonTown. I mean, how many games combine bloodless battle strategy, tasks and rewards with fun shopping?
The game has become a vital part of our family entertainment. On my birthday, my little girl and I played Trolley Games all day to earn enough jellybeans to purchase a Mickey Mouse painting for my toon’s house. In the process, we became “Top Toons” for a day — and printed out the announcement to hang on the wall for all to see.
During Christmas vacation, we had some young friends over to celebrate ToonTown’s tree-lighting ceremony. On New Year’s Eve, while New York’s famous ball dropped on our television screen, we gathered around our daughter’s computer to see the electronic fireworks go off in ToonTown.
No doubt about it, we’re toon-a-holics. We now listen to “toons” on our stereo, and eat “toon-a” sandwiches for lunch.
There you have it — we’re a video game free house, but still know how to have electronic fun. And if our brains begin to show signs of rot — well, the solution is simple.
We’ll just get ourselves in for a toon-up.
Copyright 2005, Metropolitan News Company