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Tuesday, February 3 12:00 PM EST

Nolan Curtis: Twelve Fingered Kids

By Nolan Curtis

I am convinced the children of the future will have 12 fingers.

I was looking at the controller setup for the new Blizzard Starcraft game for consoles, called Ghost, and I'll be damned if the game doesn't use every single button on the controller.

I don't know how many of you have a modern console, but if you're comfortable playing on one; you're probably blissfully unaware that you're fueling some mutant gene deep in your DNA. This is the gene that allows you to master all eighteen buttons on the controller and still spout off a list of unearthly curses when some noob teammate accidentally calls in an air strike on you. Every day you spend playing games, every hour spend in the dark, fetally wrapped around that ergonomic vibrating extension of your own body (not that one) makes that gene grow ever more dominant.

The evolution is obvious. Let’s take Pac-man. He had a mouth and eyes (well, according to the cabinet art he had eyes) but no opposable digits. He didn't need fingers cause he didn't have to jump or shoot. All he did was eat. Skip ahead a generation to the Outlaw on Atari. One giant single-pixel fist. That's all he needed to shoot his two-pixel gun. Sonic has three fingers, and we finally evolve into four-finger games with the arrival of fighters by SNK and Capcom. Remember the first time you saw Street Fighter II in the arcades? Nobody could need that many buttons. Seriously.

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One day, though, should the day ever come that young women will have intercourse with us without undue coercion or exchange of funds; we'll spawn our own little gamers. Miniature geeks with one glaringly obvious difference.

The dominant D-pad gene will have matured enough to form the additionally fleshy stubs of the eleventh and twelfth fingers. Our kids will be polydactyl (caw caw! <- obscure Little Ceasars reference). Gloves will become more expensive, button-fly jeans will be easier to fasten, and games will have to evolve once again.

The only real constant in life is noob teammates that call in air strikes on you.

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