I recently decided to re-read Gerard Jones's book Killing Monsters: Why Children Need Fantasy, Super Heroes, and Make-Believe Violence, to incorporate his research into a paper I'm writing. It's a quick and interesting read that rebuts the hypothesis that media entertainment causes violent behavior, and he does an excellent job doing so.

Its numerous testimonials from children got me thinking about my own play during my childhood, as well as the current controversy surrounding court cases that have erupted over violent content in the media.

Let's take one example that you probably heard about. In June of 2003, Josh and William Buckner hiked up a hill in Tennessee that gave them a view of the highway and started firing at random cars with rifles. At the end of the day one motorist was dead and another seriously wounded.

The story was made sensational because of two elements surrounding the crime: first, the fact that Josh was 14 and William 16, and second, that these morons claimed their inspiration was Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. Combined, these facts prompted the victims' families to sue Sony and Rockstar (as well as Wal-Mart) for $46 million in compensatory damages and $200 million in punitive damages.

This is one of several high-profile cases made against video game companies claiming that the violent content of their games has directly resulted in real-world crime. These sorts of cases highlight an increasing anxiety in America about fantasy violence that I think is becoming a little ridiculous in its excessive finger-pointing.

But enough about that. Let's talk about ME. Me, me, me.

Me.

I vividly remember the big bin of plastic guns I used to have when I was a kid. I was a huge gun freak, and had every imaginable type -- shotguns, submachine guns, rifles, squirt guns, pistols of every caliber, blasters, lasers, and lightsabers. I also had my share of staves and swords, but I was more the gun type. Unlike my brother, who preferred more medieval weaponry, I liked a feeling of modern power -- the ability to kill instantly at a distance.

I was a one-man army. I was powerful. I had an arsenal.

My neighbor Nathaniel and I used to enact violent fantasies in our backyards and all through our houses. We would tear around sounding explosions and voicing the death cries of our enemies. We were so cinematic about it that one time it inspired my brother Jason, two and a half years my senior, to strap a desk lamp onto his back, grab the video camera, and record us.

I was usually the one in control of the fantasy -- Nathan was a year younger than me and was usually happy to go along with my ideas. We would spend hours together almost every day after school blasting aliens, monsters, enemy soldiers, and even cops, if we were playing bad guys. When we were not in character, every sentence would begin with "Let's pretend that...." It was like I was the director, and the fantasy was my own narrative. But I was also an actor. It was a very exciting doubling of creative roles.

I couldn't have imagined someone taking those guns away from me, or not allowing me to play video games. They were just so much fun. As I grew up and rowdy toy gunplay became less acceptable, tabletop role-playing games and video games began to fill the niche for imaginative and aggressive play. Eventually we stopped playing role-playing games, maybe by the time I was 14. There simply wasn't enough time. Since then, video games have been my free time activity. My favorite genre used to be adventure games, and the only reason that it's not anymore is because no one's really making them anymore, at least not like they used to (not to be too much of a luddite). Now I really love first-person shooters, and am highly entertained with their visceral storytelling that often combines well with relentless action. (Don't get me wrong. Sometimes they're lame.)

Now, playing let's-pretend in the backyard and playing Aliens vs. Predator 2 are very different activities, but for me they have the same goal in mind: to blow off a little energy, diffuse aggression, relieve stress, and relax me.

It's true that today's games are more explicitly violent than games of years past. I'm not an impressionable kid anymore, either -- my morality is pretty much set. I'm not going to be affected that much by violence in games. Still, many parents argue that the increased realism and immersiveness of contemporary violent games is what is most scary to them, and what induces children to mimic the behavior within.

To me, this argument is absolutely ridiculous. Even for a child. They're playing a game. Fundamentally "game" means not reality. Even kids know that, whether it's playing in the sandbox or playing on an Xbox. Give them a little credit.

Plus, it's often not children who blur the line between fantasy and reality, but adults. Says Jones, "We don't help children learn the difference between fantasy and reality when we allow their fantasy to provoke reactions from us that are more appropriate to reality." When we tell a kid to stop playing with guns and play nice, we're teaching that child to be terrified of the power of his or her fantasies, and that their toy gun play is just as bad as playing with a real gun. If we restrict their access to games or prevent them from playing with toy guns, that just makes them want it all the more. And believe me, they'll find ways, from constructing their own toy weapons to pirating the violent games.

Today, most of my toy guns are gone, but some still remain in their blue plastic bin in my closet at my mom's house. I get nostalgic when I pick up my heavy blaster pistol (Han Solo's weapon of choice). I long for the same fun I used to experience just holding it -- the imaginative possibilities the simple piece of plastic contained, the creativity it could inspire. In some ways I feel like my adult mind pales in comparison to my pre-pubescent imagination.

For me, it was never about blood or killing. It was always about imagination, and it was always about fun. It was that feeling of power that is denied so often to children. "You're too young," children are told at least thirty times a day. At its core, stress is characterized by a lack of control. Disallowing children from having that feeling of control can be quite unhealthy. Jones himself makes the point that violent play is an essential coping strategy for children, and should not be suppressed by parents, but rather discussed in a positive environment.

My violent fantasies were not only fun, but in retrospect were probably a healthy way to soothe my kid anxieties -- my parents' divorce, the challenges of a rigorous school, a new babysitter, and so on. Jones uses post-9/11 psychiatric sessions with children to support the idea that in order to make an event less scary or anxiety-inducing, children need to play with it, to have control over it in a safe context.

What could be a safer context in which to explore violence and aggression than in a video game?

Luckily, the cases that I've researched concerning video game companies being sued were all thrown out. In the case of Michael Carneal, in which victims sought $33 million from id Software (Quake, Doom, and Castle Wolfenstein were the culprits), a movie studio, and a pornographic website, a federal court upheld the case's dismissal. (Carneal, a lover of violent video games, shot up his classmates, killing three and wounding five.) Said Judge Danny Boggs, "We find that it is simply too far a leap from shooting characters on a video screen (an activity undertaken by millions) to shooting people in a classroom (an activity undertaken by a handful, at most)." A similar ruling occurred for a case against the makers of Doom, Redneck Rampage, and Duke Nukem, brought by families of Columbine victims. It's reassuring that the First Amendment was upheld.

There is no doubting the tremendous pain and grief that the victims' families feel. But pointing fingers at the video games that the criminals played is just plain stupid.

We're human beings, evolved from lower mammals. We're hard-wired for aggression, and we like playing, like any other animal. Aggression is something we should neither fear nor foster, but we can't let anxiety surrounding violent fantasy prevent our children from releasing their aggression in a safe environment that does not involve actual violence. Parent-child communication is key. My play sessions were -- and are -- violent, but I'm not a murderous killer. I'm actually on the timid side.

I wouldn't say that playing violent video games is as therapeutic as, say, going to a psychiatrist. But it sure is a hell of a lot cheaper. Of course, playing too much is probably bad, but you can say that about anything. Just ask the guy who made "Supersize Me."