After a few days I called him up to check in, make sure he hadn't gone down the rabbit hole of virtual unreality. I asked him what he thought of the game.

"I think," he said slowly, "that they need to decide if they want to make a game or make a movie."

Had he given up, I asked. No, he hadn't done that, instead he had buckled down and muscled forward, enjoying a lot of what he had experienced.

I told him I had suggested the game because I thought he would like the themes of military and espionage, and that unlike the shooters he was so used to playing, he didn't have to worry so much about his slowing reflexes?

You can take your time, and let the action and the story unwind slowly, like a good book, I said.

Oh, he replied, I play it like a shooter. I don't sneak around really. I just die a lot.

But despite what has to be the frustrations inherent in tackling a stealth game with guns blazing, my dad was showing signs of getting into it, digging it. He had one night after dinner, for instance, "accidentally" played the game well into the morning hours, going to bed not much before the sun rose.

But his brief love affair with hardcore gaming came to a crashing halt Thursday night when Snake met Vamp and the mounting deaths finally sapped his will to game.

"I don't understand why they have to force me to beat Vamp," he said. "I mean it's completely stopped me from playing the game. I can't go do anything else. I just want to have fun, but I can't."