Assisted Suicide

During my stay in the first world, I was introduced to something called Wii Dance Party (or Dance Fling or Bust a Hip or something like that.) With enough caffeine and sugar in my system, with the right people, during certain phases of the moon, I'm willing to release my inner lemur so I agreed to play.
That thing is not a game. I don't know what it is. I started having flashes of the weird chamber from Logan's Run where they kill off the old people. It's supposed to be a dance game but about 15 seconds in I'm pretty sure my little avatar guy on the screen pulled his own leg off. It was crazy. Weeks later I still have flashbacks and wake up screaming.
After they finished laughing, my ever-so-loving family explained that (a) I was doing it wrong (Really? The heart attack wasn't part of the game? What about the part where I turned purple? Or when my shoes came off because I was jumping? I'm not supposed to trip? You only have to move your WRIST? Don't you think that was mission critical intel that I might have needed going in?)
And (b) my naughty niece had picked a song for me on the maximum difficulty setting. I'm so proud of her. She's the greatest little chaotic neutral an uncle could have. Excuse me while I cry and sing "Sunrise, Sunset."