Lindsey Muth

In a town the size of Tucson, you'd think there'd be plenty to do to keep us UA kids entertained and out of trouble. Well, I've found a few things to take up my time. There's Fourth Avenue, there are nightclubs, there are a few malls, and there's Casa Video. There's cable TV, and additional stations like Cinemax (for cheap porn) and HBO (for some of the only decent series on TV). Ummm, there's eating, and · bowling, and · Deer Hunter.

As you may well know, Deer Hunter is a video game where you are a hunter, and instead of fighting crime, you kill deer with a rifle, or a shotgun, or a Buffy-like crossbow. There are rules; you can't kill every deer you see, just the bucks. I learned this the hard way. The first time I played I killed everything in sight, and I lost points. You want to save the does so they can breed and raise the little deer bucks, so they can grow up and you can kill them, and earn more points for your hunting journal, which appears to be made of hand-bound leather (fancy). I never fail to ask myself, "What stupid, mad genius came up with this game?" Then I add, "God, bless him."

I may sound a bit insincere, but don't get me wrong. I love Deer Hunter! Not only do I love it, I also don't feel even a teensy bit guilty about playing such a blatantly violent game. I just plain love it! There's excitement: I see the deer, I need to kill the deer, the deer is moving so quickly, will I ever be able to hit it, blast! There's mystery: where is the deer, where is it, oh, a rustle from behind that tree, blast! There are exotic, deer-filled landscapes: woods, forests, glades, jungles, lakesides. There are seasons like summer and winter. There is weather like rain, snow, or sunshine. In fact, although it is the deer you are trying to destroy, the deer are not your enemies in Deer Hunter. Your one true enemy is God, manipulating the landscape's conditions in order to thwart you and save his innocent deer from injury and death. You cannot let God win, you must shoot with swiftness and precision, bring home the deer-bacon, bag the bucks.

The variety of landscape and conditions can be distracting at times, shooting in the wind and rain is maybe more difficult than anything I've ever done in my life. I've yet to "bag a buck" (as we hunters say) in these extreme conditions. But I haven't stopped trying, and I will continue to try until I succeed, because that's what makes me a good hunter. It's not just speed and accuracy; it's heart ÷ heart and willpower.

What is it about this enchanting game that has me wrapped around its camouflaged, gloved, little finger? I would never kill a real deer in real life. I'd be more likely to shoot a hunter than a deer, like a hundred times more likely. Still, there's something about this game, something that draws me in, excites me, turns me into a predatory asshole, and all I want to do is kill! I love the feel of the cold, plastic shotgun in my hand. I love the speed at which I am required to identify my target, take aim, and fire. And, I love how morally horrible all of it is. It's just so amazingly horrible.

I know that my Deer Hunter playing contemporaries are mostly greasy, over(or under)weight, forty-year-old white guys who probably play the game as much for practice as for pure guttural enjoyment. This explains why I only seem to be able to find Deer Hunter at pool halls and Wal-Mart. When I leave the game, I always feel a need to wash not just my hands, but my face too ÷ I rest the butt of the gun on my right cheek when I aim. But, I never feel the need to cleanse my soul. I think my soul is fine.

Sometimes it's just nice to be able to indulge in something completely awful, totally offensive, and yet entirely harmless. For 50 cents a play, I can morph into somebody wholly unlike myself, become a merciless and yet skilled destroyer, and walk away guilt-free.

I have to recommend Deer Hunter to anyone who thinks they'd hate it. Give it a chance; there may just be a buckmaster deep down inside of you too.