Twelve hours into my 17th playthrough of Skyrim I began to notice a swelling in my nether region. Now, this wasn't the typical morning swelling than one so often encounters after hours of dreaming about anime cat girls. No, this was a nether-nether swelling: a swelling from the glands below where the usual swelling dwells. But this was not a shameful swelling either, as I am sure all twelve of my readers are far too familiar with. No, this had more pride attached to it. I might describe this sensation as aggressive; however, the aggression was not in the nether region itself -- not like with the cat-girl dream scenario mentioned above. This aggression presented itself in a more emotional capacity. "Why is this happening?" I pondered to myself. I'm typically a pretty mild mannered guy. I don't like to punch things. I don't like to yell at things (besides fighting games). I don't describe myself as aggressive in the least bit. Still, there was an innate tension building inside of me. This tension, I noticed, also increased my confidence to a point that treads on the line of arrogant. What was happening to me?
Initially, this phenomenon went ignored for quite some time. A new mage build of the high elf category occupied most of my focus, and I soon forgot about my swelling nethers. It is not uncommon for things to get ignored while this deep into such an immersive RPG. In fact, I had been here before. I knew how the rest of my week would go: Skyrim for 18 hours, hot pocket breaks every 6-8 hours, sleep for 6 hours, and then back on the train again to collect as many snowberries and wolf pelts as possible. Sessions like these could last weeks, but rarely over 3 months at a time -- I do have some standards. These binges always wreaked havoc on my digestive system, but this still didn't explain the swelling in my nethers. I would have to enlist some outside council to properly asses this new phenomenon.
I have friend who is studying biology at the graduate level. He's a real wiz when it comes to assessing living creatures. I'm a living creature; therefore, he should be able to asses me. I explained to Heath my situation. I explain to him my heightened levels of energy and aggression, and I inform him about my recent Skyrim binge. "Uh-huh", is all I got out of him. Sure, it was strange to put something like this on a friend, but I needed answers. He asked me if I was having any sex lately. "Of course, tons of it." He said he'll take that as a no. Fair enough, Heath. He explained to me that the hours I have spent in-game meant that I was neglecting other areas of my life. He said this was apparent from just my aroma alone. He said it didn't take a graduate level biologist to piece this together and then asked that I not bother him like this ever again.
In laymen's terms, my balls were full. Who knew? Well, Heath knew. At any rate, my experience taught me something new about video games. Due to the hyper focus and near-inhuman-like obsession over my smithing level (a respectable 88 as we speak), I had forgotten to "release the demon" so to speak. I asked Heath if he would be willing to lend his credentials to this scientific research. He said no. I asked Heath if it was safe to assume that video games could increase one's sperm count in light of our recent discovery. He just walked away in silence.
So, there you have humble Lazy Gamer readers. There is a scientifically irrefutable correlation between sperm count and video games.