Yesterday morning, as I stepped out of the shower, the word "Q*Bert" came in to my head mysteriously.

So I started thinking about Q*Bert, the classic arcade game. Because, Freud aside, what else are you going to think about when the word "Q*Bert" comes in to your head?

I think Q*Bert was my first video game. Which isn't nearly as significant a fact for me as it would be for someone like Hunter, who is really into video games.

I can remember being about six years old, and my dad would pull a stool up to the Q*Bert machine in some Greek joint, pop in a quarter, and let/help me play.

When the game started, I think I was pretty good at it, for a six-year-old. I'd send the strange orange creature hopping around, changing the colors of the majestic cube staircase.

But as soon as that freaking purple snake dropped in, I completely choked. I'd send Q*Bert plummeting to his death off the edge of the staircase, even though the snake wasn't anywhere close.

I think I can trace my dislike for confrontation back to this, as a cause if not as an effect. In fact, my video game preferences for a good part of my young life developed in a similar fashion. I'd go to the arcade and head for the Tetris machine rather than playing Ikari Warriors. I had a paralyzing fear of games where someone could shoot me and then I was dead. Not because of the death thing, but because of the instant failure. You make one mistake, and you lose.

I think there's room for a little psychological cottage industry here - psychoanalysis based on video game preference.