The Seven Nerdly Sins

Time to confess.

I own a ton of video game stuff, I’ve had a pinball machine in my living room in lieu of a couch, and I occasionally smell my Stinkor action figure when nobody is looking. I spotted a Vectrex in American Pie Beta House (don’t ask why I was watching that tragedy), and I own a mini disc player. With mini discs. I caption my Nintendo figurines on Instagram. Born a dork, I have since sinned. Lord, save me. But believe me when I tell you that there are those much worse than I. We’re talking fire, we’re talking brimstone. The Nerdliest of the Nerdlies. People that betray the entire nature of human curiosity and ingenuity.

And here’s some stuff about those fuckers.

Don’t worry, it’s a letter opener. Oh, you mean the human skull.

VII. Economic Malfeasance

What do you get when you combine disposable income with someone desperate to fit into a given subculture? Assholes that help drive up the price of vintage games by paying whatever (and then often don’t even play them).  Less than a decade ago you could get a boxed copy of M.U.S.H.A. for like twenty bucks. Now you’d be lucky to find the same for under $400. This kind of thing happens of course, especially when there’s an outbreak of popularity (see: the last 5-6 years), but a lot of these twats rush the process due to crown jewel syndrome. “My collection sucks without A, B, and C.” It’s an escalating process, and elevates certain titles into some truly weird cultural territory.

These same kinds of turds are also responsible for increases in the systematic destruction of retro game artifacts. Destroy this game to create bootleg copies of another one you can’t afford? Let’s do it. Rip a controller apart and turn it into a desk lamp or shitty USB stick (I’m not even kidding)? Good times.

There’s a lot of grey area in here, and certainly differing opinions on what these artifacts are worth, and to who. However, that argument is for total nerds.

I sleep over an electric eel tank that’s over a shark tank that’s over a vault containing my CIB Little Samson. I fed the key to a lion with no butthole.

VI. Curation

This one is related, but trickier.. I have no problem admitting that the boxed, shrink-wrapped Game Boy link cable I saw at Hobo Stan’s place a while back was… alluring. Like I said, fuck me with a jagged Amiibo, I’m a sucker for history. I appreciate the condition of the item as it relates to its historical significance. Would I tear it open and use it? Yeah. But certainly not without sucking the sweet, likely 1980s air out of the first small tear in the wrapping. I’m not running a museum… I run a living room full of obese cats and games where I eat pizza, curse a lot and navigate around my wife’s disturbing throw pillow collection. If there were a museum and they didn’t have one, would I donate it? Of course. I’m not a fucking savage. I’ve combed my hair like, twice. But anyway…

…these bastards: The Curators… they’re not the same. They’re weird, and different, and strange. Nobody likes them. This is the personality type that would take the last boxed Game Boy on earth and put it in a transparent, climate-controlled, bullet proof safe. Forever. Rather than rip that sucker open and let every man, woman and child on earth know what it’s like to constantly adjust yourself on the couch for maximum illumination and minimum glare.

This is my Armadillo space phone. It gives me +10 to Pikachu’s mid-high lightning bolt, but doesn’t work in the rain, and and and and and and and…

V. Speech, Unending

I love to chat up nerdy shit as much as the next person. Am I not doing it right goddamn now? If you’re into stuff like Magic: The Gathering, for example, life within that realm becomes about items, stats, hairy space pigs, etc. It’s fun to engineer these mechanisms in your favor, and if you don’t talk to other nerds about it, you’ll constipate yourself mentally and die on the toilet holding a bag of Cheetos.


Ggames, action figures, etc. are fun by way of their separation from everything that is… not… them. As those lines blur, and the context disappears… oh lawdy. When people pull that kind of shit, even normative nerds will get annoyed within a handful of cringey seconds. In my short experience of standing behind the counter at a used video game store, these people often look like homeless aliens because they’ve lost their tether to the culture around them. They do, say and wear shit so far outside the norm that it’s hard not to notice. And there’s nothing wrong with that, of course… it’s just that they’re also really fucking annoying. These sorts of figdicks are totally out in space and nothing can bring them back.

Seriously folks, do I look like I collect goddamn Skylanders, let alone want to hear a comparative analysis of their back stories while I’m trying to sift through the worst filing system of all time for a copy of some shitty Xbox game so the 12 year old who likely just pooped his pants can go home happy? The answer is no, god damnit, no. No. Now go away so I can keep failing to defeat Heat Man for ten bucks an hour.

A lot of the weirdos that commit this sin do so not of their own fault, of course. People are what they are. But… it’s a nerdly sin nonetheless, so fuck ’em all and let diabetes sort them out later.

For a swell example of a bunch of them going at it like they’re scientists while missing obvious variables, check out an article called “The future of exteme e-sports: The gamepad that draws blood every time your character gets hit” over at Just don’t sue me for suggesting it.

‘Tis but a scratch, you fucking piece of SHIT!

IV. Maximum Overdrive

Nobody likes an asshole. Well, some people do, but that’s a different sort of thing than what I’m talking about. In this case, asshole means the kind of lispy fuck-knuckled pushwagon that gets pissed when they lose and gloat like a fucking annoying gloaty thing when they win. HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR DID YOU SEE WHAT I DID HAR HAR I DESTROYED YOUR THING HAR HAR HAR. Obviously winning is fun. But again, context motherfucker. When someone takes it too seriously they suck the life out of the experience. They also set themselves up for their friends to wait until they go take a shit, kick the bathroom door down and beat the fuck out of them while their pants are down. Which, of course, could force a turd to pinch off halfway and get sucked back up inside. You can actually die from that. When poop gets exposed to the air and re-enters your hole.

These twats also like to backseat game a lot and tend to walk around with fat lips from taking elbows to the face.

Look at me! I’ve completed my Invisible N64 collection!

III. False Accomplishment

What do you get from nerdliness, especially when it comes to games? Let’s just say stuff, so I can save myself some wordcount. I am of the opinion that if you really like Ninja Kid, and you want to become badass at it, you play it a ton and then, eventually, become badass. It’s a skill, and not unlike the dutch rudder, has questionable practical application, but oh well. It’s fun. Fun is good. Popsicles are fucking good.

So what’s not good?

Wasting your entire pathetic life trying to accumulate the ridiculously expensive Giant Armored Cock group mount in World of Warcraft so three asshats you’ve never seen can hang out while you walk around. Spending ¾ of an entire pirate’s booty on a sealed box set of Fuckity Fuckity Fucklestein that you’re never going to play, let alone open, and then create 107 YouTube videos about it so nerds as shitty as you are might tear their dicks off in excitement, and if you’re lucky, leave comments like “Woah that’s so cool. You’re the boss. Not Tony Danza.” Feeling that you’re better than your friends, in real life, because you have twice the amount of experience as they do in your Vampire LARP… “HEE HEE HEE REMEMBER WHEN I USED TENTACLES OF THE ABYSS AND GRABBED THAT HORSE AND…” … “Dude, shut the fuck up, we’re in the drive through.” Shall I go on?


Good, because I wasn’t really going to. Anybody has the right to determine what has value to them, and I fully support that. I know of a married couple that literally does not-a-fucking-thing besides play MMOs, and they’re happier than shit to do what they love together. They even use matching track balls, which should seriously be illegal, but… Florida.

“Get away! Get out of my car! Get away! I am not a whore! Don’t spit on me! You ruin everything I have and now you’re being mean to me for no reason because I don’t have anything! You’ve ruined my home!”

Someone is yelling that outside of my apartment and I thought I’d share before the cops show up and I can’t hear them anymore. Apparently the guy she is yelling at is 38 years old and can’t even buy “a fucking battery” for his car, and is a loser. Oh shit, there’s a new person in the mix. Sounds like a moderator… wait, no…. no, not a moderator. Trying to be one, but too stupid. I can understand that, though, it’s a tough job. I was supposed to be talking about something else. Moral of the story: people are only mean to people because they have stuff.

Anyway, allowing nerdy accomplishment to dictate your life by attaching itself permanently to your ego is a jackass thing to do. You’ll die a shitty, lonely death if you spend two decades concentrating only on collecting items that don’t really exist, or pretending that possession of those that do is somehow a measurement of self worth.

Try triple jumping over THIS.

II. The Nerd Reich

“Haha ha fucking meat heads. Herpderp, I want to dress in spandex and run around with a ball!”

“Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat Ricky, she’s hot! Just look at those stickers on her car. Tolkien quote, Soft Kitty, some generic reference to 8 bit gaming!”

“Action figure collectors are the lowliest of nerds, dude. Oh shit, I just got a Dracula’s Curse manual for $13.50!”

The lesson here is this: Just look at yourself, you fool. If you think the fact that you’ve played a hard copy of 96% of the NES library is any more an elevated circumstance than memorizing player stats, engine schematics or conducting a Polly Pocket puppet theater, you are sadly mistaken. Poorly, sadly, toughly mistaken. Similar to sin III, this is about the tendency for the most shitliest of nerds to get fascist about what’s worthwhile / valuable, all while hording objects and information related to something that, in the grand scheme of things, means… oh you guessed it… jack fucking buttshit.

Unicorn Meat, brought to you by the makers of other stuff people will buy because it has Unicorns or Bears on it. Also, I want this.

I. Pop Predictability

The last time I checked, most nerd stuff was about experimentation and exploration. From the doofiest Lego kit to the depths Barbarella’s cleavage, it’s about stretching the noodle out (pun intended) and experiencing new ways of looking at the world. The two dominating genres for content are science fiction and fantasy for fuck’s sake. So why are most Top Ten Games / Movies / Jackoff Technique lists in this culture the same? Why does every poop-assin’ butt-turd have the same triforce or <3<3<3<3 tattoo? Are people even allowed to dislike The Big Bang Theory or skip the endless Game of Thrones yammering on social media? Well?

1. People are sheep.

2. People are boring.

3. Yes.

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a nerd issue, I know. This is a human race issue. Recent years have been marred by the influence of anthropomorphic dildos that have latched onto nerd culture, barfing milky, rancid pop sentiment all over it. They’re not the only ones that do this sort of shit, but they’re certainly the loudest. Just read this snippet from buttloaf extraordinaire Zach Ames of Smosh:

“Owning classic video games may seem like a good idea. Unlike most of the things on this list, it’s something that you can actually use. You probably think that if you buy a bunch of old games then you’ll play them all the time. It’s just not going to happen. Most old games just aren’t very fun by today’s standards and any of them that are fun can probably be found in one of the many on-line stores that are offered by current generation consoles. The only reason to start collecting old games is if you are just really in to blowing on stuff and then yelling at your TV because Silver Surfer on NES is impossibly hard.“

If this isn’t one of the best examples of “I’m totally all about this (I know nothing about it)” out there, I’ll eat my favorite hat, choke on it, and die gasping for air because I was choking (on the hat). Point being… even if you didn’t start like this guy, don’t be this guy. He’s a complete dipshit.

In fact, don’t be any of these people. The world needs independent thinkers, and the whole of nerd-dom is based on the efforts of said folks. Does this feel a little too serious in tone for The Knob?

Just go back and read the poop parts.

By Gamesman Anus

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