Ten Minutes With ArmA 2

I'm also horrible at shooters. Like, really bad. I'm the reason for those "WALK HERE" and "SHOOT THIS" reminders in Perfect Dark Zero. Bullet Time wasn't quite slow enough for me to get a bead on the bad guys in Max Payne. One time I ate shark meat and in the middle of the night I ran into my best friend's bathroom and projectile vomited but it was pitch black and so I couldn't see that the toilet seat was down and my vomit was rebounding in a million directions.

That didn't have anything to do with FPS games, but I felt like sharing.

Given my knowledge of the series and my level of expertise in shooters, it's only natural that I give the ArmA 2 demo a try.

I approach Miles. The green text floating near his shoulder informs me that he is the Leader of Fire Team, which sounds impressive all around. In the absence of a Bossman of Nuclear Team, I decide to follow his orders.

My first task in the service of the proud and glorious nation of my birth, Miles tells me, is to find a box.

Unfamiliar with my surroundings, I approach a nearby group of soldiers in the hopes that they've seen a box somewhere around here. One man stands to the side and smiles as two of his brothers-in-arms exert themselves. The soldier on the left does traditional push-ups, the other holds his arms out to his sides with some degree of uncertainty and wiggles his hips, bracing himself for a fall that never comes.

I'm not really sure how to communicate with these men. After a few moments I find a button that lets me salute. By timing the snap of my hand to my forehead to a rough approximation of morse code, I try my best to inquire about the box. Unfortunately, my flailing gets elicits no response, not even a missed push up.

Thankfully, there's another soldier nearby who goes by the name Squad Leader. Before I can launch into my morse code routine once again, his highly reflective sunglasses bring me to a halt. Something about them isn't quite right, but what?

The horrible truth settles in - I can't see myself in the reflection.

My mind races. Has Obama repealed Don't Ask Don't Tell yet? Does it even apply to vampires? Shit shit shit! Play it cool, man. Just turn around, real slow-like, and find somewhere to think this through.

Perfect, an empty barracks. I'll just duck in here, hide between a few cots-

No! I sprint as hard as I can, but the cots' endposts hold my body in place, just as they were undoubtedly designed to do. As my legs and arms continue to move as though my movement were unhindered, I begin to accept my fate, embracing the vampirism that has made me stronger than ever.