Gamer rage is a phenomenon we've all faced during our love affairs with video games, and I'm not unlike you. I've pulled some crazy stunts when games have riled me up to the point of venting all over the nearest console. I've used Pro Evolution Soccer discs as frisbees, chipped teeth on Game Boy cartridges and taught various controllers how to fly. But what about you?
What's your most hilariously embarrassing rage quit moment?
I've gathered a few of the minds behind Now Loading and asked them to share their most intimate memories of flipping out over pixels. Will you care to share? Or simply worry about our mental health.
That Effing Shadow Barrier
The Ocarina of Time was the first video game I ever finished. It was a monumental task for my 12-year old self; I'd never put as many hours into a game as I did with Link's seminal adventure through time—or any game prior—and Lord did it justify the hours! But that accomplishment was almost never to be if Ganon's bastard Shadow Barrier had anything to do with it
Just before the final battle with that sly bastard, the Head Honcho of the Gerudo, Ganondorf, OoT sent you through a bunch of trials corresponding with the six elements in the game. The Shadow Barrier's one was particularly taxing due to this stupid invisible bridge, and my distinct lack of skill couldn't carry me over without falling off at some bloody random point.
So an hour passes and I've come to the end of my tether. I've dropped off the side of the bridge for like the... 20th time or some shit. With tears forming in my eyes, I tear Ocarina of Time from my N64, lob it onto the ground and start straight up curb-stomping the motherfucker whilst wailing "WHY WON'T YOU LET ME WIN, YOU BASTAARRRD?!" into the still, weekend morning air. Luckily for me I ended up finishing OoT that same day, so all was not lost. Apart from my dignity and mind, perhaps...
The Best of Friends
by Tim Horton
Long story short, back in the day, I was at a sleepover at a friend's place. He, of far inferior skill, once beat me at Tekken by repeatedly pressing the same button. Kick, kick, kick, kick, kick, kick, KO! He then went on to brag that he was by far the better player and that I was a ‘total loser’. He was so cocky that he wouldn’t even let me argue the point that he only won by pressing the same button repeatedly, instead just laughing while shouting ‘looooser’.
You know what it’s like; I saw red, I threw the controller at the bed in a fit of inexplicable rage, aiming for the pillow. But I missed. It ricocheted off the bed post and continued at some velocity up and into his eye. Attracted by the ruckus going on upstairs it was at this very moment that his mum walked in to see her son cradling an already swollen eye and pointing in my direction. I was sent home.
Fuck you, Carl!
MS-DOS: The Slayer Of Innocence
They used to say Mortal Kombat would turn kids violent, which it didn't. It did get me in trouble with my parents; not for the blood 'n'guts, but for my reaction to its unfair boss difficulty.
I lost so many times in a row to Motaro on MK3 for DOS that I shocked my parents with a 5 minute expletive-laden rant against that OP horse-arse, which they heard from downstairs. This was the first time they'd heard me use a lot of those words, and I was banned from video games for a while (I was 12) for shattering their impression of my innocence.
Motaro reflects projectiles, can't be knocked down, teleports around the arena and hits like a fuckin' truck, the jammy bastard.
You Smelty Bastard
T'were the days shortly after the release of Dark Souls 2. Dark days they were; I was consistently boiling with fury. But there was one particular boss—I later discovered he was optional—by the name of The Smelter Demon that eviscerated me every time I waltzed into his lair.
See, once he lost half his health, this giant’s (giant) sword would become engulfed in flames and the slightest touch would have my knight wailing with pain, staggered by the sheer heat and shame. I fucking hated him so hard; I screamed ungodly things at the beast every time I died. So I decided to recruit all the help I could to finally put an end to my suffering.
I waited around until I could summon 3 other players into my game, one by one. The recruits that eventually manifested were godly. One lad's weapon was bigger than me and the other two boasted a combination of speed and magic that had me beguiled. This demon would rue the day he made me so livid.
All three of them died shortly after the giant cock and balls’ sword ignited.
I tried to hang on, cursing every one of the players by name—especially the big swordy fucker—till the inevitable "You Died" appeared on the screen. So I stood up, picked up my television remote and snapped it in half. It would be a few weeks until I'd find one of the buttons behind the couch.
The Time Luigi Broke My Sister's Lip
I don't really have any rage stories, but I have a funny story about my sister hurting herself in frightened excitement:
I used to play Super Mario Galaxy with my younger sister—she'd control Mario, and I'd be the little controller off to the side that could shoot and collect Star Bits and click on Mario relentlessly to make him jump (and annoy her). At any rate, my sister was in the process of getting ALL the stars so that she could unlock Luigi (because she's in love with Luigi), so we were going back through levels with stars she'd missed the first time around. One of these included the Loopdeeloop Galaxy and its "Surfing 101" level.
Now, whenever my sister can't beat something or is too scared to beat something (like the Bonefin Galaxy), she'd give the main controller to me and I'd give it a try. She was having difficulty completing the surfing mini-game in Loopdeeloop Galaxy and had spent quite a bit of time on it already, so she asked if I could try. I gave her my controller, she gave me hers, and I took to the level with a flourish.
Here's the thing about me—I like to blast through these kinds of games as fast as I can (and accompany this with a remark "The point of this level is to do it as fast as you can") whenever I'm playing with my sister, so I, of course, make the little manta ray go super super fast and start flying around the corners. I'm actually doing surprisingly well! And it's obvious I'm going to beat the time, so my sister's getting really excited. Suddenly, however, I can't pull a corner quick enough, and I go flying over the edge at ludicrous speed. My sister gets so startled, that she screams and somehow loses her grip on her controller (that she's not even using, mind you) and it flies up and hits her in the lip and actually draws blood.
The best part is that I didn't even end up dying—I still somehow managed to land back in the water and beat the game in time, but my sister had to go to the bathroom to clean up. I still make fun of her for this to this day.
A Hellish Trial
by Rob Harris
The year is 2009 and my fingers are a blistering mess. The culprit? A deceptively simple indie game called Trials HD, in which the player must navigate a 2D course using an unwieldy motorbike. I spent the majority of my high school IT lessons covertly playing an early flash version of the same game, so I naturally fancied myself a minor expert. That was until I reached Trials HD’s climactic stage, appropriately named Inferno.
One hit deaths and a quick restart function result in a relentless trial and error gameplay loop. Most stages can be completed in under a minute, but I spent over 5 hours butting my head (and hands) against Inferno. On my final run the restart counter was in the hundreds and my psyche was a frazzled wreck. But I’d finally done it, and proceeded to whoop and holla, dancing around my living room, unable to recall a greater moment of deferred gratification.
And then Inferno II popped up. My words in response should never be repeated.
Well that's our ten cents of virtual honesty flicked into this infinite well we like to call the Internet. Now it's your turn!