Virtual Buzz Kill

Well, that's it. I have officially lived through an era. Way back when I brought home my first plastic guitar in a box with Slash on the front, and my son said, "Is that for us?" I couldn't imagine that it would all come to an end so very abruptly. That is, if you count four years as "abrupt." Activision has pulled the plug out of the virtual Marshall stack and cancelled any further iterations of its Guitar Hero franchise. A moment of virtual silence, please.
I have expressly fond memories of the first time I plonked through Alice Cooper's "School's Out," and the first time I survived the galloping triplets of "Knights of Cydonia." It filled a void that I could only manage to sputter about to my wife. The idea that I could make noises as I played along on my prop guitar with Black Sabbath and the Rolling Stones was too much for me to make intelligent sentences. After a day or two of listening to my exasperated noises, my wife shrugged her shoulders and told me if that was the toy I really wanted, I should go and get it.
Since then, I have purchased most of the iterations of the Guitar Hero franchise. I even scored a copy of the Van Halen version by being one of the first to buy the fifth volume of streaming red, blue, green, yellow and orange dots. On those weekend afternoons when the rest of the family was busy or out of the house, dad would strap on his faux Stratocaster and shred the night away.
I was a loyalist for a long time, steering clear of the MTV sponsored Rock Band, preferring the essential nature of almost-air guitar to the complex nature of microphones and drums. Until Rock Band nabbed the Beatles' catalog, and I surrendered. When they lassoed Green Day, it was all over in my house.
In some ways, I can only blame myself for the decline of Guitar Hero. I didn't buy "Warriors of Rock." I spent my fun money on Rock Band Three. Now I won't have Johnny Napalm to kick out the jams with anymore. I know I just lived through a trend. Like arcades and Intellivision before it, Guitar Hero will live on in the hearts of those who seek it out. With proper care, I should be able to keep my plastic axe in tune, and on those nights when the family allows me to turn the volume up to eleven, you'll still hear me rocking the night away.