Carrier Aces


I hate flying games. Flying games are way too complicated and there’s usually no pay off. It’s like trying to sleep with girls that listen to NPR and check Pitchfork every 5 minutes. I just don’t have time to devote to something that won’t end in burgers or orgasms, or if I’m lucky, both, in any order I see fit.

This game is exactly like every other flying game in that everything looks exactly the same and it is incredibly fucking boring.

Here are the highlights of the game:

The End.

You buy planes, go up and down, try to shoot at Asians like some racist hillbilly pilot. That’s it.

In high school I wrote a story about a guy who wanted to be a pilot. Here is a summary of that story.

There was a guy, a guy who liked flying. He didn’t bother to make friends with anyone because he knew it would distract him from focusing on his goal: becoming a pilot. He studied morning, noon, and night. He didn’t play sports or watch TV. He didn’t get good grades in school because he couldn’t devote any of his time to anything other than trying to get his pilot’s license. He sacrificed everything in his life for the realization of his dreams. When he was finally old enough he went for his written exam. He passed with flying colours. His mom, proud of his achievements, offered to take him for ice cream to celebrate, instead he insisted they go home so he could study some more. Months later, after logging hundreds of flight hours, he was ready to go for his “full” license. He was so nervous that he couldn’t eat or sleep. His mom drove him to the airfield on the big day but they got in a car wreck and he was tossed from the car, through the windshield, the glass severing arteries in his arms and legs. The ambulance came and rushed him to the hospital. They had to amputate his appendages. Now he’ll never fly a plane and all the kids call him stumpy.

Needless to say my genius was not rewarded with praise and accolades but instead with a suspension from English class for the next week and a half.