I am 37 years old. I do not live with my parents. I have health insurance, a master’s degree and only occasionally eat cereal for dinner. And I am a gamer.

That last statement shouldn’t feel like such a bold thing to say these days, but for some reason it seems like admitting I own Star Wars bed sheets (which I don’t) or wear Spider-Man pajamas (not that I’d know but they aren’t sold in adult sizes anyway so why are you even wondering?). When I was a kid, video games were mostly played by my peers. You didn’t see many guys with fully cultivated facial hair in line for Dragon’s Lair at the local arcade, or grown-ups gathered around an Atari 2600 at a house party. It was incomprehensible to imagine video games rivaling Hollywood in terms of cultural impact or profits. featured an above-the-fold screenshot of Max Payne 3, along with a lengthy review. Perhaps the greatest proof of gaming’s newfound respectability is “The Art of Video Games,” an exhibit at the Smithsonian that runs through September and drew approximately 230,000 visitors in its first month and a half. The Legend of Zelda isn’t just a part of my childhood—it’s an artistic and creative milestone.