As stated in my now world famous article Nekketsu Hockey-bu, when a video game is made that tries to emulate something that we enjoy doing in real life or have some other sort of passion for, we as gamers will purchase, import, or pirate that game anyway we can until we have it. The only stronger marketing force in the universe to get us to play a shitty game is that of some asshole webmaster's witty article. Many of you may argue that breasts should have a worthy mention in my list, but if we gamers really wanted to see breasts that badly we would have sold all of our consoles a long time ago. But we didn't, we have our priorities straight.

My personal hobby is that of swordsmanship. For three years I have studied the art of kendo among Japanese kids forced into it by their stern fathers, other geeks with funny hair like myself who wanted to learn to fight with a katana, anime fangirls, and retards who walked past a practice and thought it would be fun to smack someone else in the head with a stick but sadly cannot skate. It's not the physical activity for everyone, but it serves a purpose in the lives of each of the previously described kendoka. It gives the Japanese a sense of their culture, allows geeks to feel tough, gives fangirls a reason to wear Japanese clothing, and converts 150 possible retard perpetrated homicides into 150 retard related martial arts injuries each year.

I now have my black belt in the art. The certificate in its plastic frame glistening on my desk reminds me daily of what I have learned thanks to kendo; that I am thoroughly undisciplined and fairly uncoordinated in comparison to your average Japanese person. But my love for kendo and the realization that it's probably the only occasional exercise I get in my life, drives my pasty skinned ass into a dojo at least once a week. Once there or at some athletic complex in a Toronto university, I find myself sword tip to sword tip with another nut like myself and thoroughly enjoying every little perspiration inducing and nerve racking minute of it.

What would really be great is if I could somehow experience the thrill of the duel among minds, bodies, and yes even souls, without having to go through all the hassle and heart ache. If there were just some way that I could taste all the glory without inhaling the funk of unwashed gi and enduring the sting of bamboo on skin, then surely my adventure into the art of the sword would be all the more enjoyable. Until I unlock the inner sanctums of the human mind, I fear that playing video games is the only possible way I can hope to actualize this lofty vision of swordsmanship nirvana. So my search begins.