On Nov. 8, World War 3 begins.

No, not the literal destruction of our physical planet. This day marks the release of the third installment of the Call of Duty: Modern Warfare series, the eighth game with the COD namesake and the umpteenth time I’ll shell out well over $100 to this juggernaut company.

In a sense, it could be the end of the world when no one in that target demographic shows up to work that day. Or for the next month.

I remember way back in May, my roommate harked from his perpendicular bedroom, “Brian! New Call of Duty!”

“No,” I replied. I knew what was going to happen.

For about a week, I ignored him each time he suggested I microwave some popcorn so we could watch the two-minute trailer.

Finally, I caved in.

It was beautiful. Glorious. Tears formed in the corner of my eyes at the exploding buildings and hailstorms of bullets.

Lets get one thing straight: I am not an avid gamer.

I rarely have the time to dedicate to sitting around and clicking buttons. I’m still working on defeating Tetris. Those bricks fall faster than a Russian airplane.

With that being said, this franchise is sucking the life out of me, along with the squadrons of basement hoarding nerds across the globe, using numb3rs 1n pl4c3 0f l3tt3rs for our super-nifty call signs and titles.

I love this game, which is why I hate this game.

Each year, Activision and other gaming companies just have to pump out another game a tad more spectacular than the last, something so great that any fan of the series is compelled to get the game no matter how much they kick and scream.

It’s not just the physical copy of the game that costs so much either. First you have the disc, a $60 value initially. But wait, don’t you want to buy the hardened or elite edition, complete with strategy guide, limited edition journal, night-vision goggles, 24-pack of Mountain Dew and family size bag of Doritos?

Yes. Yes, absolutely, I do. Another $100.

Don’t forget about the additional map packs online, coming in at about $15  a package.

Once you’ve learned the first set of levels, a second pack in released to further antagonize you and double your investment.

Might as well go out and buy a $50 controller for when I smash one against the wall because that 12-year-old from Germany keeps sniping your face off and shrieking in your earpiece, “Mein führen du isst, kleine Schlampe!”

Rest assured, I will do all these things, not move from my couch for at least a week and then have to pay hospital fees for the bed sores forming on my ever-growing rump.

So, take my investment of roughly $200 and multiply that by, oh, 5.6 million in the first day, the amount last years’ Black Ops raked in.

If everyone else is as stupid as I am, shelling out that kind of cash, the gaming industry leaned back and made over $1.1 billion, all before we get home and toss grenades at one another and blow our sex lives into smithereens.

No matter how much I resist the gravitational pull of this entrapment, I am sure I will not be fulfilling any of my journalistic duties in the upcoming weeks, much to the delight of many verbal readers.

I was really looking forward to covering the GOP debate.

I’ll be digitally destroying the country’s landmarks instead.

And to think, some people refer to us as America’s future.