But what is it like to grow old as a gamer? Let Digitiser 2000 lead you through the coming years, as we present this guide to The Five Ages of Gaming....
WOOT! Look at all that epic blood! LULZ! You shoot them dead! Ha ha! You just called their mum a foetus-gay! PWNED.
So anyway your parents bought you GTAV and they didn't even realise it was 18+ because they're such stupid idiots and your mum can't see because her eyelids are so fat they hang down over her fat eyes like hamsicles.
Seriously it's like her face was carved out of Spam by a spork-wielding toddler and left in the sun for the dogs to lick.
Too bad you can't shoot her but if she wasn't around you wouldn't get your tea and you would starve in your room JK JK JK - you don't want her to die because who's going to pay for your games IRL if that insipid growler isn't around? God. It's well selfish of her not to arrange for someone to do that in the event of her dying because her neck got so fat it ate her own face AND she doesn't even respect your global ranking in COD like she even knows how to hold a joypad anyway NOOB!
And so what if she gets wise to age ratings? You'll just download your games like you do all that vile hentai on Reddit and 4Chan that looks real good on the Alienware laptop that pathetic embarrassing woman gave you for Christmas and she's such a loser making food for you every night and believing you mean it when you thank her. Chicken Kievs? WTF?!?
And what gives her a right to try to limit your screen time and threaten to change the wifi password if you don't clean your room?! And your dad's even worse because he's STILL calling your PS4 an Xbox and why can't he just hurry up and die of natural causes for pity's sake or in a car accident or get the top of his head cut off?! It's obvious they're like completely different machines.
Anyway. Who cares? Pretty soon you're going to be 18 and you'll finally be able to tell the rancid old slag and that man good riddance and you're going to get a degree in Interactive Media or whatever and set up your own games company making your dream game that's a violent sandbox recreation of the road you live in incorporating a kitten belch synthesiser and you're gonna be a trillionaire cause you've come up with a way to do realistic flowing blood.
And you're going to join Anonymous.
This is the best time ever to be a gamer. In fact, it’s the best time to be anything at all! And better still – being in your 20s will last indefinitely!!!! You’ll literally never grow old!!! Nothing is ever going to change again!!!!!
When you’re not down the gaming theme pub drinking craft lager or ironic real ale (ie; St. Sonic's Albino Glans or Mario's Ruptured Mole Rat Abdomen) with your cool, beautiful, friends, with all their taut skin that has yet to be ravaged by age or childbirth, you're playing games. For hours and hours and hours. Thank god for your enormous disposable income!
At the end of any given night you can’t wait to get back to your flatshare to play Mario Kart 8, while drinking vodka out of a My Little Pony rucksack, and taking turns doing the quizzes on Buzzfeed. Which Rick Astley Lyric Are You?! Irony is the best, guy!
And when you’re not doing that, you’re working on your Samus or Bayonetta costume for Expo, or checking your Twitter notifications.
So what if you're shouldering a massive student debt from that pointless degree you spent years on. You've got hundreds of decades to pay that back. Life is for living. Life is for youth. Life is for games. Life is for free hugs, and checking Twitter notifications and OMG you just got favourited by Will Weaton!!!! SQUEEE!!!!
Uh-oh. What the...?! What just happened...?!
You weren’t expecting this. You’ve suddenly found yourself in a steady relationship. With a mortgage. Maybe there’s even a kid on the way.
You were meant to stay young forever. You've got grey hairs. And a belly.
And you’re finding it harder and harder to play your games. You can just about fit in an hour of Titanfall (the one game you could afford to buy this year) before bed – IF you can find someone to play with online.
All your old gaming buddies have lives of their own now. In fact, playing online is the only time you get to speak to them, and when you do you just stay in the game lobby complaining about all the bills you all need to pay, the fact you’ve not been out of the house in weeks, except to go to work, and how you get indigestion most nights, and – oh god – it’s your turn to change the nappy.
But it's ok. You've still got one foot in your youth. You still have your games, just. You're not past it yet. But wait... that sound... can you hear that ticking? Tick tock, tick tock... That's a biological timebomb waiting to explode, and destroy your last vestiges of youth. It's coming. It's getting louder.
We hope you're ready... pretty soon you're going to be too old for games. Pretty soon you'll walk into your local branch of Game and the age alarm will go off, and you'll be escorted out by security... Because that's the law.
Oh god. This is the end. Your consoles are sat in a corner gathering dust. Your joints are barely strong enough to lift a joypad. You’re a husk. A disgusting, revolting, dried-up old husk. All your best days are behind you.
Your relationships have all failed. You're crippled with debt. Overweight. Balding. Hunched over and riddled with arthritis, and there's a weird smell emanating from your pants, like an old salmon bagel that somebody's stuffed a rotten Snickers into. And your children hate you, even though you're paying their way through uni, in a vain bid to give them the life you never achieved.
And you haven't played a game in months; they're not an escape anymore. All those bright colours and loud noises are too overwhelming, and even picking up a joypad makes your fingers hurt. Weekends are spent beneath the covers in a depressed ball, and weekdays you have to go through the motions in some soul-destroying middle-management role, fretting about your pension and wondering whether you'll ever again be able to afford a holiday. Even if you had somebody to go on holiday with you.
Games aren’t for you anyway. They’re for young people. Young, vibrant souls, who have yet to ruin their lives. People who deserve them. People who don't break wind involuntarily every time they blink. Why didn’t you have the decency to die young, instead of going on and on like this? You’re a drain on resources. And – oh god – you’ve started playing Temple Run on your phone, on the toilet, while shaking and crying.
What’s wrong with you?! God, I can’t even look at you. I’m just going to cover you with this sheet and pretend you’re dead already.
Well, somehow you made it through the wasteland of your 40s and came out the other side into a brighter, happier time! Congratulations!
You're a bubbly, bouncy, fun grandparent. Everybody loves you! And you love games more than ever before - specifically iPad Words With Friends, and Papa Pear Saga.
Oh! And you adore your grandson's Wii - the bowling is a hoot! You still can't use a joypad without swaying from side to side, and ducking in response to what your characters are doing on screen. But still... at least you're entertaining to watch! And best of all... you've probably still got another ten or fifteen years left before you die for real!
Now... who's ready to trade lives in Papa Pear?!