Last night I ventured onto the Internet. This is usually not a very newsworthy event; however, something of note did occur. While checking my e-mail, I came across an Internet-based game. This game is unlike any other, and it's all I can think about. In fact, I am having great difficulty writing this column, because all I can think about are strategies I can use to beat this monster. What game is pushing me toward a downward spiral? Typer Shark.
Typer Shark is really more a tool at heart than a game. If Mavis Beacon, Finding Nemo and Doom got really drunk one night and Mavis woke up pregnant, this game would be her offspring. (Don't ask me who the father is. That Mavis Beacon sure gets around). You are playing a deep-sea diver, exploring an area of the ocean looking for jewels and other assorted treasures. All of this booty is at the bottom of the sea and to get there, you need to defeat sharks and the occasional piranha.
How does one defeat these beasts? By typing the words as quickly and as accurately as you can. Every time you type the word on the side of the animal, it flips over dead and floats to the surface of the water. The game has intrigue, suspense and gore. Yes, gore. Should you not type fast enough, the shark bites you in your mid region and drags you off to your death.
As you can see, there is a lot at stake in the game. Typing never seemed like such a life-or-death matter, until I came face to face with evil personified: the Typer Shark.
Needless to say I couldn't sleep a wink last night. For hours I dreamt I was in the bottom of the sea, typing furiously on my waterproof keyboard, as hammerheads and great whites swam at my face. Forget harpoons and nets??-I had shift, caps lock and a slew of weapons in between.
I took down every sea creature that came my way-I was unstoppable. Sailors and dolphins were cheering me on and high-fiving each other at the surface of the water, thanking me for slaying their enemies.
The dream came to a screeching halt when I saw a word that I just could not type. It had numbers and symbols and some writing that looked like Chinese characters. Suddenly my hands weren't nearly as nimble as I had thought. I froze, my hands on the home row, as the shark chomped down on me and carried me off to my watery grave. My glory days as a deep-sea diver had ended tragically. When I woke up in a cold sweat, I swore vengeance on that monster for killing me in my prime.
Typer Shark is not a game for the faint of heart. As you can see, it takes a never say-die-attitude and some agile fingers to play. I myself will dive in again, to rid the sea of sharks, to protect porpoises and to restore crown jewels to their majestic luster. I will dive again and I will not stop until I have succeeded in ridding the ocean of sharks, piranhas, barracudas and anything else swimming around down there that bites. Don't tell the ASPCA, but I am a force to be reckoned with.
Erin is a sophomore majoring in education. She can be reached at erincanty8285@hotmail.com.
