A new brain age of gaming.

I'm sure we've all seen the advert. You know, the one where a "typical" family of hired actors sit around the living room on Brain Training pretending to be enjoying themselves, even the teenage daughter who obviously has nothing better to do with her thriving social life. A few weeks ago, I would have remained firmly rooted to the belief that such activity by means of solving calculations was nothing short of insane. But then I saw it.
Sitting on the table in our dining room was a neatly packaged copy of Brain Training. "It's for your sister," my dad informed me. I dismissed it at the time, but fifteen minutes of gameplay proved me wrong. Contrary to my arrogant beliefs, it turned out to be a really good game. I fell in love with the Sudoku and indulged in the idea that the billions of thoughts and processes flying through your mind every second could be judged by the most eccentric and blocky faced Doctor I've ever seen. And you haven't been to my local hospital!
Fairly soon, a new idea formed between me and my brother- that we could compete aggressively to have a higher brain age. I shut that infernal Nintendo advert out my mind and focused it on the dual screen that rested before me. After bringing a questionable brain age of 80 to 37, I realised that by playing daily I could best my brother with my superiority, a notion hopefully shared by anyone with a sibling. This contradicted Nintendo's plan. We were playing daily, yes, but we were on a whole different level than those people on the train into London.
With all this going on, I overlooked the fact that my dad and seven-year-old sister were on the brain wagon. Hopefully no-one else would jump on it. With almost the whole families brain ages on that fateful touch screen, I thought of that Nintendo advert. I thought of the crap actors, how they may have been playing their role well. (As suming they were actors) I thought of that teenage girl, how maybe she didn't have anything better to do, but not because she was a loser. But most of all, I thought of the way they sat around laughing and happily chugging away on the thought train. This contrasted with our family, who's intense competition was the equivelent of either a chainsaw-revving shooter, or several rounds in the bull pit wearing a red cape and armed with a bloody pole.