PixelVixen707

Last night was Shmup Night.

Why was it Shmup Night? Because that’s how I felt. Work’s been bad, the weather’s a killer. I sent a message around to some friends: “Tonight is Shmup Night. My place. Bring beer.”

For those not in the know, the shmup - or shoot-em-up - is among the most elemental of game styles. 1960’s Spacewar, the very first video game, is a paleolithic shmup. Still largely lo-res and 2D, they have evolved into fast, frenetic, psychedelic, silly, subversive, and fantastical variations that mostly hinge on steering a little ship through swarms of nemeses. The shmup is a deep niche, and I don’t pretend to be an expert. I know shmups about as well as I know scotch: basically, I know what I like. But when I get an itch for a shmup, nothing else will scratch my trigger figure.

Three of my pals showed up at the apartment - while my live-in boypal Zach stayed far, far away. We had Zach’s brother Lucas, a parkour practitioner who lives his life essentially from reflex to reflex. There was Wall, short for Wallace but appropriate for a man of his formidable heft and stature, who brought a flash drive crammed with freeware shmups. And we also had Jared, a younger friend of mine from the newspaper who’s become my casual coffee buddy for the past few weeks. We head down to Starbucks every morning and speculate about when we’ll lose our jobs. He needs a shmup night as much as anybody.

After the introductions and pleasantries, we broke out the games. We had two laptops, a smattering of handhelds, and ran the consoles through the TV. We zipped from shmup to shmup, feverishly beating each other’s high scores and then on a dime bouncing to another game.

Last month the Indie Games blog ran down their top 20 freeware shooters of ‘08. We played about half of the list. I was lukewarm on their grand prizer, Alien Assault, which was a little loose and blinky for my tastes. My vote goes to G:plus - a tricky but elegant circular shooter with automatic shooting that made me physically twist my head around to line up my shots.

Wall played a trick on me with the eye-squeezing Squid Yes! Not So Octopus!. I had no trouble at all for the first two minutes, darting around and swooping on the enemies, until suddenly I bounced off a rabbit - and didn’t die. “Heehhhh yeah! You’re on practice mode,” Wall giggled. He switched me to real play and I died in 10 seconds. My best game, I lasted 1:45; Wall edged ahead of me at 1:52. But my advice? Switch it to maximum “glowy shiny effects” and stay in practice mode for four minutes. Enjoy the glitchy fireworks and starry colors that bring back to the time you were two and learned to press your fingers against your eyelids. And then sit on the toilet with a cool washcloth on your forehead. You’ll feel better.

Game for game, Wall kept just on top of my scores - but I blame that on the fact that he sort of speaks Japanese. Lucas was all over the map, hitting his stride on one game, crashing on the next, and jumping up every five minutes to look out the window or swing off the door frame. And Jared - well, we cleaned Jared’s clock, but he was a sport about it. I was worried he’d be out of his element; as a gamer, he’s a casual Call of Duty 4 player, and that’s about it. But he sat on the couch and gamely died again and again and again.

“Don’t you feel better?” I asked him, as I huddled over my DS and a promo of Big Bang Mini (which is strictly for the Elmo set). He just looked back and smiled.

No clue how many games we played that night, but by around midnight we started to fry. Well, except for Wall, who was still wrapped up in bullet hell freeware and happy sitting by himself in the corner. He’s not really a people person. Lucas, Jared and I sank into the couch and huddled around my PSP, where I’d downloaded Everyday Shooter. Playing Jonathan Mak’s brilliant shooter with just one analog stick ain’t ideal, and its generative soundtrack can’t shine through the tinny speakers. But it’s still superlatively soothing.

And then, for a moment, things got awkward.

I sat in the middle of the couch. Lucas was on my right, and Jared on my left. And both of them were sitting very close. Now, Lucas can sit in my lap for all I care. We have a deeply nonsexual relationship. If I were taking a shower and Lucas jumped in with me, I would probably just say “Hi” and hand him the soap.

But Jared had placed his leg right up against me, and just kind of left it there. I know, seems weird - I’m in the apartment I share with my boyfriend, sitting next to my boyfriend’s brother, and here the kid’s starting to get fresh. But he wasn’t exactly making a pass. He just wanted to touch. “Oh wow,” I thought, as I scored a 30-point chain combo, “he’s crushing on me.”

I wish I’d turned to him and told him flat-out: “Jared, you are cute. I love our little coffee dates, which I guess is what they are to you. But there is nothing here. The way this works is, some people you meet, and you share a story together. You’re in it for the long haul. And other people? You give each other a few minutes of laughs. You meet and ricochet off each other and move on.”

I could’ve called him out. But I didn’t. We just stayed there together until I finished my game.