Murder Mystery

I think the reason why my blog posts have slowed to a trickle over the past few years is that as I get older, I become less and less sure of my opinions.  Time and experience has revealed the multifaceted nature of most things I earlier had assumed to be one-dimensional.  Age has made me kinder and less able to judge.

Also, the children have stolen my computer.  

Actually, it's mostly the children's fault.

Over the years there's been a number of computer-y obsessions.  Minecraft, internetertainers (Good Mythical Morning!) This week's favorite is Roblox's Murder Mysteries.

How does one blog when one must shift a hundred pound child away from a tense round of Murder Mysteries?  That child is already wound up to the edge, murdering and being murdered, he's not likely to move away without a fight.

Roblox Murder Mysteries, for those who do not know, is an online mini-game that players can join where one player is the murder and the rest have to either figure it out and catch (kill) the murderer as a Sheriff with a gun or just try to avoid being murderer fodder as an Innocent.

As a parent, there are several things to freak out about with this game, but the one that usually gets me is IT'S THE GUY IN YELLOW! HE'S GOT THE KNIFE! HE'S RIGHT BEHIND YOU!  RUN! RUN!! RUN!!!

I have not the constitution for first person perspective murder games. And, frankly, I think that is a positive aspect of my character.

The children have quickly figured out that playing Murder Mystery is fun, but watching mom freak out because HE'S RIGHT BEHIND YOU is even better.  I try not to watch but our home is small and the laundry must be folded on the couch beside the computer and, damn it, my kids seem to have the survival instinct of lemmings.  I try not to get into it, but then I'm looking over their shoulders, and they stumble across a body and I can hear the shink shink sound of a busy knife and RUN RUN RUN!  They are always being murdered.

I'm starting to suspect that they are getting themselves killed on purpose, just to break their poor mother's heart. 

Of course, when they the are assigned the role of murderer, there is a whole new level of intensity.  My babies are the best murderers. Ever.  Or they would be, if they could listen to my advice.  Like, 'don't walk around with your knife out, honey, they'll know it's you and the Sheriff will shoot you,' or 'follow that guy into that empty room, he doesn't suspect us,' or 'look in the stalls, they always think they can hide from you there,' or 'LOOK OUT LOOK OUT, IT'S THE SHERIFF, HE'S GOING TO SHOOT Y- oh, nevermind.'

Anyway, the point is, it's really hard to find some time to sit down and write a post when the computer is constantly occupied by murdering fiends intent on giving their mother a heart attack.

Suggestions of playing Murder Mysteries outside, in, like, real life away from the computer, have been rejected. I even offered to craft up a miniature knife and gun (from soap?) that could be concealed easily in a hand, and each person could be given a sealed envelope with their role.  Then they could play out the mystery in the backyard with their friends.  Gosh, each person could even be given a character with a personality and background, and they could dress up and play out their character!  Sounds like fun, hey kids and not at all like something drama geeks from the '80s would do?

"Wow, mom, that's kind of sick.  You want us to murder our friends?"

Sigh, no.  But I do want to use the computer ever once in awhile, so maybe a bit of murdering is okay?  I mean, they already play Hunger Games, which if you think about it, is pretty deranged and it wasn't even my idea.  It's infuriating that they think it's okay for them to kill each other over limited resources in some contrived scenario and dispel blame with, 'the man made me do it,' but it's not okay to kill each other just for good old fashioned the sheer titillation of figuring out who the real psycho is.  Pssht.  Kids today.

Thus, the sporadic blogging.  For which I apologize, though it is entirely the children's fault. 

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