​By Aaron Matteson

Video games have a lot to teach us. Take Metal Gear Solid, for example. After playing this Playstation gem, we were always more inclined to answer innocent, straightforward questions about or age or name with replies like, "I'm old enough to know what death looks like," or "Names don't matter on a battlefield."

In MGS, it becomes apparent fairly quickly that Colonel Campbell, despite his gruff exterior, is a pretty high maintenance guy. He calls Snake with the frequency of a needy ex. When Snake sees fit to pick up, the ensuing conversation is often like a chat with your great-grandfather: lots of repetition, useless information, and awkward pauses (though with actual phone calls one cannot tap the X button to fast-forward).

However, despite the more grating aspects of communication with your allies, your Codec is invaluable. Only through it can you accomplish vital tasks like saving the game or getting tips on how to advance through the game's less obvious stages. And with the added bonuses of side-plot development and lots of flirting from several comely team members, MGS rewards players who aren't afraid to take a small break from snapping necks to talk with their friends.

As intricate and immersive as the world of MGS is, there is also a bizarre, Brechtian flavor to several important sections of the game that seem meant to remind the player that they aren't actually a chiseled, molten-lava-voiced special operative with a phallic codename. Without the proper detachment, it's difficult to even consider that the way to subvert Psycho Mantis's powerful telepathy is to PLUG THE CONTROLLER INTO THE OTHER PORT. Though he does give you a hint by weirdly reading your memory card.

Similarly, imagine you meet someone cute and want their number, but don't have a chance to get it before you part ways. If only you could LOOK ON THE BACK OF THE JEWEL CASE

While these things border on stupidity, you have to admit that they challenged you to acknowledge the different levels of consciousness that playing a video game engages, demanding your involvement in the game world and the real world simultaneously. That's a philosophical demand you won't find in Battletoads.

Try as you might, no matter how many Stinger missles you launch at them, there's something about family that's hard to leave behind. Just ask Solid Snake, whose brother Liquid dies a number of times that makes Die Hard's indestructible beefy blond terrorist look like he was half-assing the whole "back from the dead" thing.  Sibling rivalry is a force to be reckoned with.

While derided by some, many of us still remember Metal Gear Solid for its cutscenes. As much fun as it was to knock on walls and watch the highly-touted AI of the game react ("What was that noise?!") or to amble around in a conspicuous cardboard box, the real draw of the game was its sweeping, epic storyline. It was incredibly implausible, but at the same time doggedly adult in its content, making mention of such issues as the Gulf War and its implications, nuclear proliferation and its effect on the post-Cold War global power dynamic, and the addictive nature of battle. Again, Battletoads touches on few of these subjects (though I would definitely pre-order a title where Rash, Zitz and Pimple are forced to defend Kuwait from Iraqi belligerence).

Some have said that the extensive cutscenes and long-winded radio dialogue are disconcerting, tedious and unnecessary. But for those with the patience to sit back and absorb the detailed plotlines and multi-layered characters, MGS presented a nuanced and complicated reward in return, full of all the elements of good drama. It taught us to savor the quiet moments along with the loud ones, the soft goodbyes along with the helicopter battles.

Though the surgeon general seems less inclined to tell you that smoking will also help you detect lasers.