Childhood exposure to violence

[Singular Quartet]

My own parents are semi-restrictive, believeing in the "violent video-games will desensitive me to violence" mindset. Given that I presently have a not-so-firm grounding in reality, they might have been right.

Well done, my lord. Growing up, my parents provided a similar environment for me. Nothing was taboo, but things such as violence and heavy sexuality were always provided context when I was younger. My parents guided me rather than restricting me.

For example, I got Doom when I was in 4th grade (10 yrs old). I played it all the time, but if I had started to go crazy and spew bullshit about wanting to chainsaw people to death, my parents would have talked to me and explained to me why that was inappropriate, rather than simply removing the game or never letting me play it in the first place.

I feel that this kind of environment will produce children who are socially, emotionally, and intellectually healthier than those children who are raised in an environment of extreme censorship and deprivation.

That's my upbringing words for word, except I got Doom when I was 8. I think I turned out Ok.

Doom 2 at around 8. Duke Nukem 3d at 10. I have few violent console games, although I have been getting a steady supply of ID games FPSs from a friend of mine. I believe the most violent console game I have is Metal Gear Solid.

[seanrobertson]

Hmm... what would "Apocalypse Now" have done??

Have Matthew reading a dossier, thinking to himself, "I can't believe they want this man dead..." while Mike shaves his head and talks about snails slithering across razors

I dunno...Apoc Now is pretty heavy. It's filled with some frightening stuff, plus it's VERY long; it's chock full of themes, so it's easy even for the intelligent youngster to get confused in what he should take away from the thing.

Oh, and Pablo: fucking A! I couldn't agree more. Odd that I've seen a number of war movies in my almost 25 years, some of which date back to the 1930's, yet none of them seemed to portray violence in any meaningful, realistic manner until "The Wild Bunch" came out in the late sixties. Before that, the typical war glorification fest seemed to be something like this. The star doesn't matter; John Wayne would work, but so could anyone else that squints a lot and talks loudly.

--present the audience with a shitty crawl of text that says something about the war itself (timeframe therein, how things are going for the good guys), usually with no narration but lots of tinny violin-type music OR lots of horns and wind instruments doing a real cornball parade number in the background

--introduce main character, probably sticking up for a stuttering pal in the barracks. Fight breaks out with a bully over stuttering pal-type; main character kicks the bully's ass with noisy punches just before the sarge or gunny comes in and wants to know "what the hell is going on"

--hero and his stuttering pal storm the beach at Normandy

--lose stuttering comrade to enemy fire, who wants you to tell his parents or his "girl" (ha, yeah right) that he died like a man. Probably does not stutter on his final breath and might even point that out. "Hey, I didn't stutter just now Johnny...what do you make...ugh...of...that?" *dies, eyes close like someone slamming drapes down at mach 10*

--hero shouts dead flunky's name in anger kind of like Klingon Death Howl. "BOBBY! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

--angrily gun down 50 heavily-armed Germans, each one of which just falls over when shooting in their general direction (no blood, rarely even an, AGH! as the German goes down). Might throw in a few comments about "krauts" as he's racking up the kills. Breathes a big sigh of relief after his effort saved other soldiers. Toughguy hero says, "Yeahhh...but it sure as heck didn't save Bobby."

--after the battle is over, show up at a little French village, in which there is a big loud party

--dance with some chick at party, bragging about his bad self. Forgets all about stupid Bobby.

--suddenly be on the move again. Things are uneventful for awhile but the troops run into Nazis

--gun down more Germans with no blood

--repeat this cycle as necessary, replacing French girls and parties with fireside talks about war experiences with other macho soldiers or just lots of footage of guys marching and singing at the top of their lungs through enemy territory ("I dunno what I been told / But Eskimo pussy is might-y cold")

--in the final battle, get wounded toward the very end, but push through to kill some evil, snarling SS Colonel (or whatever the mission entails)

--be okay in the next scene, perhaps wearing a sling and definitely, a shit-eating grin, maybe even singing a song

--The End

[Peregrin Toker]

Before that, the typical war glorification fest seemed to be something like this. The star doesn't matter; John Wayne would work, but so could anyone else that squints a lot and talks loudly.

--present the audience with a shitty crawl of text that says something about the war itself (timeframe therein, how things are going for the good guys), usually with no narration but lots of tinny violin-type music OR lots of horns and wind instruments doing a real cornball parade number in the background

--introduce main character, probably sticking up for a stuttering pal in the barracks. Fight breaks out with a bully over stuttering pal-type; main character kicks the bully's ass with noisy punches just before the sarge or gunny comes in and wants to know "what the hell is going on"

--hero and his stuttering pal storm the beach at Normandy

--lose stuttering comrade to enemy fire, who wants you to tell his parents or his "girl" (ha, yeah right) that he died like a man. Probably does not stutter on his final breath and might even point that out. "Hey, I didn't stutter just now Johnny...what do you make...ugh...of...that?" *dies, eyes close like someone slamming drapes down at mach 10*

--hero shouts dead flunky's name in anger kind of like Klingon Death Howl. "BOBBY! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

--angrily gun down 50 heavily-armed Germans, each one of which just falls over when shooting in their general direction (no blood, rarely even an, AGH! as the German goes down). Might throw in a few comments about "krauts" as he's racking up the kills. Breathes a big sigh of relief after his effort saved other soldiers. Toughguy hero says, "Yeahhh...but it sure as heck didn't save Bobby."

--after the battle is over, show up at a little French village, in which there is a big loud party

--dance with some chick at party, bragging about his bad self. Forgets all about stupid Bobby.

--suddenly be on the move again. Things are uneventful for awhile but the troops run into Nazis

--gun down more Germans with no blood

--repeat this cycle as necessary, replacing French girls and parties with fireside talks about war experiences with other macho soldiers or just lots of footage of guys marching and singing at the top of their lungs through enemy territory ("I dunno what I been told / But Eskimo pussy is might-y cold")

--in the final battle, get wounded toward the very end, but push through to kill some evil, snarling SS Colonel (or whatever the mission entails)

--be okay in the next scene, perhaps wearing a sling and definitely, a shit-eating grin, maybe even singing a song

--The End

It's almost if you've studied movie clichés under the tutelage of a great movie reviewer.

[SAMAS]

But he forgot one scene:

Where an american soldier and a Nazi soldier get into close combat, and tunble into the bushes, the only indicator of action being the german's wildly flailing foot, which makes one last jerk before falling still, indicating his death.

[Mark S]

My parents took the same approach with me regarding violence and sex. They always watched the movies and made sure we understood. Hell, I wanted to play paintball with my friends and my dad made me write an essay on gun violence. I figure I'm pretty well adjusted.

Now, this friend of mine from university... His parents wouldn't even let him watch the Smurfs because it had an evil antagonist. That guy was a little... off, to say the least.