When I got fired by an idiot for being literally too good at my job, I quickly moved into recreational drugs - which I was the best at - before starting a new career as a Britain's top self-help guru and motivational speaker.
Let me tell you: a lot of the skills I learned from being the top games journalist have come in handy in my massively successful new job.
Blunt talking/telling it like it is. Giving your emotional dysfunction a score out of 100%. Also, thanks to the number of times I had to punch editors, I can get pretty tasty with my fists if any of my clients don't like what I've got to say. And most of them don't, because they're cowardly baby idiots who are scared of tough love.
Grow up! I only mock-punched your throat, idiot! Pow-pa-pow!
So yeah, today I'm gonna bring all my skills together and fix something that is well overdue for fixing: Gamergate. Boom! Yes, I went there when nobody else would.
I don't even know what Gamergate is, but I understand it's well good for getting clicks.
Get this though: you know when we was kids how all gamers were either Spectrum or Commodore 64, or Atari or Amiga, or Sega or Nintendo, yeah?
Well now to be a gamer you have to pick a side, and those sides are populated by two types of dick: paranoid oversensitive dicks and oversensitive paranoid dicks.
Of course, there's always a third side in any relationship: the BBC Model B owners, or the Jaguar and 3DO owners. But nobody cares about them. They're just like a sort of fart that's wafting over the battlefield, and that's certainly the case with Gamergate.
All these farts floating around going "Oooh, everyone stop fighting and be nice to one another", like a baby made out of flatulence and a tramp's cabbage. Whatever. Everyone is sick of all it, even the people involved, but they don't even know how to stop, because they're idiots.
Well, I'm going to make that happen. Only someone with my unique skill-set and blind arrogance could manage a task this big. Get in.
There's this thing I invented for my motivational classes.
It's called the Cyber-X Drama Rhombus. It's a rhombus - basically a drunk square - which means it's got four sides.
That's one more side than any pathetic triangle, and three more than a circle, automatically making it better than either of those things, probably.
Here's how it works. There's four points in the rhombus, yeah. That's basically one point for four of the major types of twats in the world: video game magazine editors, my ex, her mother, and Gary.
The way it works is that if you want to know if you're a twat or not, you just look at the rhombus, see if you're named on it, then stop being a twat. It's well easy, Gary. But get this: there's another part of the rhombus that I've not mentioned - two testicles hanging from the arse-end of it.
For some reason, those balls are flapping back and forth in the wind so fast that nobody can even see the writing on them. Fpp-fpp-fpp-fpp.
Basically, though, it don't matter whether the dicks represented by those balls can read the writing or not, because they're too busy being either paranoid dicks or oversensitive dicks anyway... ballsing up the games scene with their oversensitive and/or paranoid dickery.
Because of them, everyone is so confused now that they don't know what to say, or what not to say... what's acceptable and what's not acceptable - or even whether these dicks are self-aware enough to - for example - laugh at themselves in the face of an article that's so obviously a work of parody, and which makes as much fun of the author as it does them. Dicks.
But don't you worry, la. I'm cutting them off. I'm castrating Gamergate. Snip-snippety-snip-snippety-snip-snip-cheroo.
To end Gamergate you need to think like Gamergate. It's about finding common ground, yeah.
What do both sides have in common? Video games and hating one another. But we all know that old saying: the enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?
What both sides in Gamergate need is a mutual enemy - someone or something heinous who embodies traits that they both can hate just as much as the other. You know: like that bit at the end of Watchmen.
What's Watchmen? It's a wicked graphic novel from the 80s - the second best decade - but you wouldn't know about that because the dicks of your generation are too preoccupied with reading anime or making vlogs about how the other side are Nazis.
Imagine that: if the actual Nazis thought everyone else were Nazis too, and that's why they went to war with them. I mean, Christ, don't look in the mirror, Hitler. Actually... do look in the mirror... because that moustache and haircut are a disgrace.
Where was I? Oh yeah.
So here's my idea: we get a load of nerd scientists together and get them to basically invent a big monster who hates Gamergaters and anti-Gamergaters equally... a literal boogeyman, who the paranoid dicks and the oversensitive dicks can hate just as much in return - and must join forces to defeat. This monster posts stuff on social media that's just vague enough that both the paranoid dicks and the oversensitive dicks both think it's harassing them.
Now get this: the monster lives on an island and operates its social media accounts over a closed intranet, and the only way to beat it is to go to that island. All the dicks must go there with to get it, then when they're all on the island together - BOOM! - we nuke the island. Game over.
Alright, I've not really thought it through, but that's not my job. I'm an ideas man. I deal with the broad strokes and leave the detail to people with more of an attention span than I've got.
I did draw a picture of it though: